02x01 - The Dark Age

[bunniefuu]

But Saku. What's up?

Oh, hey. Sorry to wake you, sensei. Ready for the..

Sensei? Why do you call him that?

Just look how wise he looks. He even

gives up his seat when I have guests.

So you're not going to believe what happened today?

There was a ridiculous sh**t inside a warehouse.

Really? I wound up trading sh*ts with

a very energetic group of guys.

Their truck featured a machine g*n.

Sounds like a rather hairy situation. So those injuries of yours,

I'm assuming you got those from the hail of b*ll*ts?

Actually, it was my own fault because I had to pee.

And in my rush, I tripped right into a ditch.

That's so. Well, I guess when you got to go,

you got to go. So true. This is Osamu Dazai, an executive in

the Port Mafia, a criminal organization.

In the end. Those guys fell right

into my trap and ran away crying,

even though I barely rough them up.

I really thought they'd be able to take me out.

But no dice. I was disappointed, to say the least.

We have a saying in the Port Mafia.

The biggest misfortune for Dazai's enemies is that they are Dazai's enemies.

His body of work is written in darkness

and blood makes even the members of the port mafia tremble.

He was practically born to be one of them.

Oh, man. Isn't there some simple, reliable

way for me to commit su1c1de somewhere? Doubt it. Oh, Dosaku.

Man fears death, yet at the same time is also drawn to it.

Death is endlessly consumed in literature, in cities, in life.

It is the singular event that none may reverse.

That's what I pursue and desire. Barkeep,

one glass of bleach, please. We're all out.

Oh, that's a shame. How about a bleach based cocktail?

We're all out. Looks like you're out of luck.

You shouldn't let him talk like that out of Seiko, huh?

He might not go off the rails

if you called him out every now and then.

Go. Although a hammer to the back

of the head might work better than words.

Oh, just a tomato juice. I have to drive.

It's been a while. How's work been?

Well, today was pretty rough. Buying the necessary smuggled items was tedious.

After hours of negotiating, all I got was this antique watch.

This rounds out about % of transactions that have taken place.

Sakaguchi Ango. He's one of the port mafia's intelligence officers.

Just about all critical and classified information

passes through onga when communicating with outsiders.

The secrets he carries about the Port

mafia are more valuable than gold.

There must be as many people who would

love to t*rture him as there are stars in the sky.

It's not a job for the weak.

So it sounds like you fuzzed your job, too, then? I fuzzed.

That's right. We're fuzz buddies. Come to think of it,

it's been a long time since we first became drinking buddies.

Oh, Dosaku. But I don't think I've

ever heard you complain about work..

As the lowest ranking member of the organization,

I'm afraid my stories would only bore you.

There you go. Being secretive. Come on. Tell us about your day.

Let's see. I punished a kid for

stealing from a store in a shopping

district that pays us protection money.

I resolved a fight between the lover

and the wife of one of our shell company executives.

And lastly, I disposed of a b*mb

found behind one of our offices.

Wow. I want to go out and dispose of bombs, too.

Do you think that the two of us could switch jobs?

You wouldn't be able to handle it.

Yeah, you'd get blown off. I'm serious.

Hey, did you hear that, Ongo? He said blown up.

That I get blown up was the

lowest ranking member of the organization.

The jobs that come my way are

the ones that no one else wants to deal with.

You could say I'm basically a glorified handyman.

Moving on. Did the two of you come

here tonight for some kind of official

business meeting? Nah, it was merely coincidence.

But I did have a sneaky feeling

that I'd run into both of you here.

Was there something you needed from either of us? No.

I just thought if I showed up here tonight,

it might turn out like the old days. That's all. Really.

So then what are we toasting to?

Anything you like. Who says we need

a reason? To the stray dogs.

To the stray dogs.

Hey, Ongo. Do you have a camera in your bag, by any chance?

Yeah, I use it for work.

Why don't we take a photo to remember?

What do you mean? Yeah. Remember what?

That all three of us were here together.

The three of us come here to drink all the time.

Whatever you want, Mr. Executive. Make sure to get my good side.

Kay. I want you to capture all my manly charms.

I don't want my picture taken.

So why do you suddenly want a picture?

Call it a silly hunch, if you like,

but I just have this feeling that if we don't do it now,

we might never have another chance to prove

we were all together like this. Hey, ODA Saku, say cheese.

As it turns out, his hunch was correct.

That was the last time that special

friendship between the three of us was ever captured.

Because soon after that photograph was taken,

one of us would be dead.

Someone of my low status would ordinarily

never enter the headquarters of the Port Mafia.

A reason for his summoning me was unknown,

but his word within the port mafia was absolute.

And so I beckoned to his call.

Name's ODA. I'm here on official business

at the request of the boss.

I'm ODA.

Boss. It's ODA. I'm coming in.

Come on. At least just wear the dress.

Please. Just for a bit. A teensy weensy little bit? No,

I don't want to. Come on, my dear.

Just try it on. All right. I put

a lot of thought into picking this out.

I mean, just look at these crimson frills.

Don't they look like flower petals? I'm sure you'll look great.

Look, it's not like I hate pretty clothes,

but I do hate you grovelling Rintaro.

Boss, you called for me. How may I serve you?

Now, then, to begin. Yes. Nothing you hear leaves this room. Understand?

Yes. I wasn't even here. I appreciate

you making the time to meet with me,

despite your very pressing issues with that young lady.

What matters did you wish to discuss with me? Well,

never mind. I called you here for a singular reason.

I'd like you to find someone for me.

Find someone you didn't trust. Someone like

me with such an important task.

I've heard good things about you. I personally

wanted to ask you to carry out this job.

The missing subject in question is intelligence officer Ango Sakaguchi.

Our sources say he was reported to

be missing as of last night.

It seems he never even made it home.

Whether he vanished of his own free

will or he was taken away by brute force,

we still cannot say for certain.

As you well know, his position gave him access to sensitive information.

Such knowledge could be used to decimate

us if sold to rival organizations.

However, taking that element out of the equation,

Ongo is still a valuable employee.

If something has happened to him, I wish to help

take this with you. It's a silver oracle.

If you show this to anyone in the organization,

including executives, you will receive assistance.

Speaking of executives, I understand you have a personal relationship with Dazai.

It seems friendship surpasses hierarchy. His capabilities are astounding.

I'm sure in five years or so,

he'll have assassinated me and taken the throne for himself.

One more thing. Yes, boss. I understand that for as

long as you've been with us,

you've never k*lled anyone with that g*n of yours. Why is that?

Are you ordering me to reply as the leader of our organization?

Not at all. It's just simple curiosity.

Well, then I'd prefer not to answer.

Very well. You may go. I hope

that you will soon bring me good news.

Ensure that the city police do not hear of this.

Make a call to the cleaners as well.

They'll move the bodies. Investigate as to whether

these three men have families in the event that they do,

I'll personally make contact with them.

I believe in executive will be here to assist us shortly.

Good morning, everyone. Hang on a second.

I'm almost through this really difficult level.

I crap. He got ahead of me.

Well, how about some of this, wouldn't he? Dodged it.

Thank you for taking the time to come out here, sir.

It appears our armory guards were k*lled.

It's been a while since we had

anyone reckless enough to att*ck a port mafia depot.

Each one of these men was hit

with to rounds of g*nf*re.

A number of firearms were then stolen from the armory.

Now go take a look. Take over for me. Okay. Wait.

Wait. Don't. The rounds went clean through their bodies.

Meaning they were k*lled at close range.

Is that supposed to make me? The assailants were skilled pros,

but I'm just getting my hopes up.

Let me see the surveillance photos.

You want some of this? I'll give it to you.

I'll give it to you. They look like hoodlums at first glance.

They must be well trained soldiers.

The way they cover each other's blind spots is proof enough.

But why appear to be otherwise? You little doll. Mr. Hirotsu.

I have no excuse to offer. Please

give me a chance to rectify this

failure. Do you recognize this g*n?

Hmm. It's an old model, even older than me.

But I believe that would be a graue

geist. It's a traditional European p*stol.

I actually saw this very same type of g*n last night.

Which seems to indicate that they att*cked

me shortly before the raid on the armory was carried out.

Then was it all just a distraction?

How very interesting. There are far more

ingenious bunch than I had first given them credit for Mr. Hirotsu.

These men hit one of the Port Mafia's most secure storage units.

They gained entrance with the official passcode

that is only known to members of a sufficient clearance level.

Are you saying that we have a traitor in our midst?

That we don't know who's behind these att*cks?

My subordinates did t*rture one of them yesterday,

but the man k*lled himself before revealing very much.

He swallowed a cyanide pill he tucked inside a molar.

But it wasn't a complete loss. We learn

the name of their organization. Mimic.

He was living in a hotel, Huh?

Ango Sakaguchi, intelligence officer of the Port Mafia.

A man both accomplished and mysterious. Truth is,

none of us know very much about you.

You fool.

A ventilation shaft.

sn*per, huh?

Darcy. What a surprise. You so rarely call me..

A sn*per fired at me in Hongo's room.

I'm going after him. He's at the building

across the street from the second hand bookstore.

You want me to cut off his escape route?

Yes. I have the silver oracle with me, so if you need me to.

There's no need. Don't push yourself too hard.

Wait for me to get there.

Don't move. There's some kind of trap.

They must be after this safe.

Oh, Dosaku. Duck.

You weren't always such a troublemaker. ODA Saku.

I know you could have easily and quickly

k*lled every one of these gunmen if you had wanted to.

My ability flawless, allows me to see

up to six seconds into the future.

You k*lled all of them.

They wouldn't have given us information if we took them alive.

They already proved they love the taste

of their poison pills. Too much for that.

I know it wasn't the methodology that you were concerned with.

Listen to me. These men were combat professionals.

Even you wouldn't have been able to avoid k*lling them.

True. And if you hadn't have shown up, I'd be dead now.

Listen, Saganowski, I understand that you have

a creed against k*lling anyone, no matter the circumstance,

But it's that creed that's holding you back.

It's why the Port Mafia is only using you as an errand boy.

You have so much more potential.

Thanks for your concern, but I've heard

this lecture more times than I can count.

Onto more important matters. Just who were these guys, anyway?

You see that g*n holstered on his waist?

It's a very old style firearm from

Europe. It's called the Graue Geist.

They're using vintage pistols. They have low accuracy and f*ring rates.

Not exactly something that would be well suited for modern combat.

Most likely, their sole purpose was to deliver

warning sh*ts in a narrow alley like this.

That p*stol most likely serves as their personal emblem.

You have an answer to my question.

They're called mimic. Never heard of him.

I'm still investigating the specifics. Perhaps the fact

that they had a sn*per staking out

Hongo's room will give us a clue as to their intentions.

I'm pretty sure that they were after this safe.

That's so. It was hidden in Hongo's room.

Wasn't able to find a key, though.

Well, then I think I can help.

Let's take a look see. Allow me. Oh.

And voila. He's sure clever with his hands.

No. It can't be. If what you said

earlier is true and this g*n is

some kind of emblem of theirs,

does this mean Onga was one of them all along?

We shouldn't jump to conclusions. He may have taken

this g*n off of one of them

during an altercation or it's possible that they planted

it in his room with the purposes of implicating him.

Yeah, I guess you're right about that.

I will say I did notice something

odd yesterday when the three of us were drinking at the bar.

Ongo said he had just come back from a deal.

I think that was a lie.

How so? Did you see the inside of his bag?

It had cigarettes, a folding umbrella, a camera and his prize.

The antique watch. The umbrella was wrapped

in cloth and had clearly been used.

He'd gone for business to Tokyo, where it had been storming.

So his umbrella was wet because it

was raining. What's odd about that?

What's odd is that he supposedly commuted

to his appointment in his car.

So when did he have a chance to use his umbrella?

It wasn't before the deal because the umbrella

was on top of the antique watch and it wasn't afterward.

Why is that going off? The condition of the cloth.

The umbrella was more than lightly used.

It had to have been soaking in the rain

for a good half hour or so.

But for being out in the rain for so long,

neither his shoes nor his pants showed any evidence of it.

If his deal was at eight and we met at the bar at ten,

two hours wouldn't have been long enough

for his shoes and pants to dry.

Maybe he changed his clothes before coming.

If so, I would have seen some kind

of evidence of that in his car.

He happened to drive me home that night.

I don't think Onjo made a deal.

I think he went to meet someone in the rain.

He talked to them for about minutes

and then k*lled some time before heading over to the bar.

Intelligence officers like Onjo will sometimes choose

a rainy road on which to conduct their classified meetings.

It's more secure than an indoor space.

He's the port mafia's classified intelligence officer.

Of course, he'd have or meetings

he couldn't tell anyone about if..

It was business as usual. Why not say so?

If he told us he couldn't talk about it,

we wouldn't have pressed any further.

Isn't that right? He has a point.

But instead, he made up an alibi.

Why would he go to such lengths to hide a meeting?

Would you look at that? You sure don't go down easily.

To be perfectly honest, I'm really impressed by all of you.

No other organization has had the gumption

to go head to head with the Port Mafia. Does I stop?

Can you see the glimmer of pure joy in my eyes

with just a slight squeeze of your finger on that trigger?

Then you can deliver to me what it is my heart most desires.

My only fear is the possibility that you'll miss your target.

But you won't. Because you're a sn*per, aren't you?

Either way, you won't make it out alive.

You might as well at least try

to k*ll one of the enemy executives.

What do you think you're doing? Come now.

Take me with you. To the afterlife.

Please, won't you wake me from this

oxidising world.. Of a dream? Don't.

Dukat.

Sorry if I worried you. It

was quite the performance, wasn't it?

Performance? I knew that he'd miss. His

left cheek had the imprint from his

sn*per r*fle, meaning he was left handed.

He was using his non-dominant hand, and he was

so unsteady that he could barely walk.

And with the type of p*stol he was using,

he would have had to press it right up against my forehead.

I knew you'd take action if I distracted

him long enough and whittled down his stamina until he..

Couldn't shut up. Darcy. I've heard enough.

OTA Saku.

Please find on Go.