I write this on a tablet as I half-doze on a tatami mat in one of the back rooms of Susanoo’s Diner. I’ve concluded business in Tokyo. Daimon Kiyota’s running the show now. His quirkiness rubs me the wrong way but the other day he did a flawless version of the moonwalk that made me like him just a little bit – until he stepped away to call in a favor for a life he had saved: he instructed the party at the other end to wait until three in the morning, count to 61, and throw a half-empty bottle of whiskey out the sixth-story window of a building.
I’m no good at being a Dragon. I still don’t understand chaos theory.
QBL News has branded me a terrorist. I’m supposed to be lying low in the limelight. There’s no need. The only people left in this part of the city who are still in possession of their faculties are in my debt, big time. I’ve ingratiated myself with the demon-hunting Jingu and their arch-enemies, the demons of the House in Exile led by Inbeda the Fierce, Inbeda the Mighty, Inbeda who worships Kirsten Geary as a goddess and populates his bathhouse with mannequins in her likeness.
The demons and the demon hunters live a few blocks away from each other. I suspect that’s the cause of and solution to many of their problems.
I investigated the source of strange tremors in the City of the Sun God. The cultists were behind them, as they are behind everything in this area. My dear Shani and her Marya don’t seem to be making much progress on that front. The destruction of the Atenist raison d’être does not seem to have sated the cultists’ blood lust or shaken their conviction. As part of my “research project,” I revisited a jinn named Amir whose contempt for me was once again expressed with the sort of honeyed grandeur that only an ancient being made of fire can reasonably pull off without sounding overly cathartic.
Amir is but a bit player as he is only made of one element. The rumblings turned out to be the product of the Unbound, a jinn made out of all four elements and therefore much more powerful. The tremors are the manifestation of his anger on this earth. I was tasked with entering the pyramid that housed his prison and subduing him, both of which I accomplished in a reasonable amount of time and without unnecessary difficulty.
Back in Tokyo, I then took on the less glamorous tasks of running Kiyota’s protection racket for him and robbing a bank manned by infuriatingly astute security droids. Once finished, I returned to Gozen’s diner and sat down to a bowl of noodles, a cup of coffee (which I’ve grown to like more than tea), and a manga book about chibi-children who save the world by planting sakura trees. I can’t really tell where the line between reality and fantasy is drawn after all that’s transpired.
They tell me now that my help is needed in field operations with other agents. We’ll see about that. I’m going to take a nice long nap, first.