Spectre of the Sinner - Chapter 7 part 1: A day in a rabid dog’s life of exquisite violence and debauchery

POV: Bertrand Pompeo-Navarre, 1017 UTC + 09:00, somewhere in Tokyo

“Aww, look at those mask-wearing cute human-shaped weeds wobbling their useless arse,” I let out a flippant snicker at the sight of the stream of marching protesters, “instead of being grateful for the protection from those fucking rotten commies, and yet they have the galls to demand what, more benefits and better payment? They should fucking continue…”

“Stop it already [Bert],” a stern rebuke came from behind, causing my eyebrows to twitch in annoyance, “our job here is to snatch and grab those provocateurs, not criticize the activists and their claims.”

Snorting at my squad mate’s censure, I leaned onto the streetlight pole, continuing the tedious job of observing the demonstration. The flow of mask-wearing plebeians dirtied the wide avenue with their colorful collection of placards, posters, and banners that demanded the forever sickening messages of fairer wages and benefits. Insanity flowed through the swarm as they polluted the landscape with noisy songs, chants, and speeches that were filled with poisonous talking points about social justice and similar bullshits.

Yet, as they pushed for such follies, the rabble marched in an unimaginably orderly way, far from the supposed disorder and chaos that such events were usually portrayed. In fact, the mob was so well-behaved that the row of dark blue-clad constabularies was left with nothing worthwhile to do other than continuing the boring job of passive observation. Occasionally, a bold soul of a demonstrator would strike up an amicable convo with members of the police as if they were soul mates from the previous incarnation, casually trading a few banters before breaking off to do their own things again.

“Seriously, the other side’s too good at brainwashing the masses like that,” unable to stomach those noises further, I aired out my poisonous grievances at the unsightly sight as I adjusted my pair of sunglasses, “if only they were a bunch of unruly rioters…”

“Once again, [Bert],” reproaching in a thick Cockney accent, the fool of a combat buddy glanced at me disapprovingly, “unlike you who’s born with a silver spoon in your mouth, most of…”

“Yeah, I know that old story already, [Wallace],” I dismissively shot down his words as I quenched my thirst, “With all due respect, how about you just shut up and keep your eyes peeled for signs from those troublemakers. I bet that those bastards gonna stir up as soon as the incompetent cops start to become useful.”

Ignoring my partner’s grumbling complaints, I suddenly unconsciously reached for my concealed holster as I continued monitoring the flow of ungrateful mob issuing their excessive demands. While the festival of the uncouth peacefully continued unabated, a sense of hidden agitation sprouted in my heart.

My eyes started to search around warily as my eyebrows furrowed.

Every face in the crowd.

Every facial muscle movement.

Every wink of the eyes, every word uttered from the flapping mouths.
Then, I caught sight of one of the participants of the march from the corner of my eye.

A subtly non-Japanese face removed his face mask as he was stopped by what looked like a cadre of bouncers. At first glance, his visage bore the hallmarks of an office worker who had an academic background. His somewhat dull-looking visage was adorned with an equally lackluster-looking pair of black glasses, making the impression of being a perennial loser who would get his significant other stolen away from him by a playboy due to him being overworked by his day job.

And yet, despite all of those features, that lad surely had some energy to spare as after passing through the identity check, he continuously ran around doing various miscellaneous tasks. From chatting with the useless cops, and distributing bottles for the bees, to calming down the more excited protestors, keeping them from turning into rioters in the process.

“Hmmm, somehow his face looks so damn familiar,” I silently muttered to myself as I quickly looked up the database.

Then a somewhat familiar melody started to blare from the various loudspeakers that the activists had set up, taking my attention away from my current task.

“If only that band didn’t waste their talent on writing such rebellious lyrics,” I directed a grumble toward the source of the music as the song transitioned into its signature electrifying drum beatings, “if only I could find a way to crash the damn party…”

“[Falken Pesa] to all units, this is a priority message. [Rooi Mossie’s] identity has been identified. Details will be handed over soon. More to follow. Do not disturb the demonstration, I read back, do not disturb the demonstration. Out.”

A notification then popped up on my army-issued wristwatch as the radio transmission just ended.

“You gotta be fucking kidding with me,” a beast-like grin started to form on my lips as I looked at [Rooi Mossie’s] mugshot, “to think that that son of a bitch is high on those damned spooks’ most wanted list. Maybe it’s in nature for those who’re cucked to do such things instead of just silently accepting their sad fate.”

“[Jagdfalke One Two] to all units, I have a positive ID on [Rooi Mossie]. I repeat, I have a positive ID on [Rooi Mossie]. Proceed to execute plan [Ceasar]. Rendezvous at point [Ajifurai] in 5 minutes. Out.”

Half-ignoring my somewhat flustered partner, I proceeded to force my way through the crowd. Ugh, those damn peons were the worst. Instead of politely letting me through, they instead had the damn gall to look at me in annoyance as I forced my way through them. What’s more vexing was the occasionally irritated mumblings from their stinky arse mouth holes as I forcefully shoved my way past them, which further lowered my assessment of their worth.

“It’s unnatural selection…”

“If only those damn plebs can fucking be more docile,” letting out a frustrated mutter under my breath, I zeroed in on the four-eyed rascal as I silently groped at a pair of handcuffs stowed in my belt.

Just as the piece of damn seditious music finished its running time, the glass-wearing suddenly turned and faced me.

His pair of dark brown eyes met mine.

His mouth hole, which was about to flap around to produce words to his coconspirators, froze in place.

A moment of silence enveloped us.

Taking a deep breath, I wore a friendly smile on my face as I wormed my way toward him.

“[Khang Van Duong], mind if you come with me for a moment?”

“Err… Who you might be, good sir? And why do I have to come with you?”

Armoring himself with wariness, the four-eyed slowly reached his dominant hand toward his belt as he cautiously prodded at me.

“Just some conversation, dude,” having hidden the pair of cuffs into my long-sleeved shirt, I put my arms up to show my innocence, “how about we get to somewhere more… Private?”

The guy exchanged a glance with some of his many associates, many of whom had their profiles on the database before nervously gulping his saliva inward.

“Unfortunately, no, why do I have to come with you? Wouldn’t it be private enough to just go over there to chat?”

“I strongly insist,” I persistently bugged the target with my request as I swallowed my irritation inward, “it’s not something that I can confidently discuss with you here.”

An impasse was reached where neither side would budge from their demands.

While my mind was racing at maximum capacity to figure out a way to get out of this annoying deadlock, the cadre of goons started to warily crawl their damn filthy hands toward their belts while they quaked in their damn cheap arse boots. The glass-wearing chap, being caught in an unenviable situation, could only helplessly dart his pair of useless eyes around like a scared child.

Glancing at my surroundings, the rest of the task force slowly waded their way through the crowd, and soon, I wasn’t alone anymore.

The noisy atmosphere of the damned seditious march started to retreat, leaving behind the tense air of impending confrontation.

The damn cops started to prove their worth as they quietly removed the mass of ungrateful protesters from the scene after receiving advisory words from the [Falken Pesa], leaving the space free of any potential disruptor.

“Attention please, we would like to invite Mister [Khang] to the podium immediately. I repeat, we would like to invite Mister [Khang] to the podium immediately.”

The damn PA system gracelessly blared an announcement, taking the hostile heat away from the belligerents’ faces for a split moment.

“Achoo!”