On the twelfth day of Christmas
Jan. 6th, 2014 08:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tallulahgsmy true love sent to me
twelve results of travel
[Title] Train Songs
[Fandom] Jet Set Radio
[Notes/Summary] Twelve instances of reckless graffiti rollerblading punks on trains, and what they got from their journeys.
1.
The long journey probably helped. The stockpiling cash in a sock, and the trying to see how much stuff you could fit in one tiny rucksack, and the buying a one-way ticket – all of that had just made Beat feel kind of sick. And the waiting on an empty platform with no sound but the repeated announcements of the next train, and flat blackness outside the window with the carriage lights like smears of paint on the glass, and being too tired and too scared to sleep, and the few other passengers side-eyeing him – all of that it was like someone was yelling in his ear that running away to Tokyo-to was a terrible idea and no matter how bad things got at home, this was never, ever going to work.
But somewhere along the line the sun came up: pale, dusty light glinting on puddles and sending wobbly shadows of the houses sprawling onto the track. The sun came up and Beat squinted out of the window at it and suddenly he'd left all the terror behind in the light. The train chattered along and he watched the wires rise and fall against the sky, and then slowly bare paths and forests began to turn into low-roofed houses and telegraph poles and signs and he'd actually made it, he was actually travelling into Tokyo-to right this second, and the journey stopped feeling like running away and turned into real life, it's about to start.
2.
Gum had messed around on her sister's skates often enough, but only down their street, and once or twice clambering from the balcony and skidding across the roofs. So – and she was pretty pissed off about this, she was pretty sure real rudies wouldn't – she'd got the subway over to the skate shop on the other side of town and now instead of dashing home on wheels she was sitting on an itchy seat with her new skates in a box on her lap. They felt really heavy being held like this, but she could rest her arms on them and the whole thing, the box and everything, it all smelt really new, like when you were a kid and you'd got a new toy.
Two stops to go. At least the carriage wasn't full, and wasn't like anyone would care she'd cut school. Sun was breaking through the clouds, just visible above the houses. Blue shadow covered the station vending machines, the signs telling you not to push, the damp benches. She wrapped her arms round the box more tightly and then she was just like you're pathetic so she started wrenching at the lid instead. The skates were packed round with brown paper, it smelt like old books. They were shiny green and white and the wheels were smooth, never been worn, and she was unpacking them on the subway and they were going over the bridge and it was last-but-one stop and she knew all of this because she'd been riding this route for years. Real rudies didn't take the train home like they were coming back from school. Real rudies never went to the same place twice. Or if they did, it didn't remind them of school and wobbly teeth and kicking stupid boys in your class in the shins, it just reminded them of... like, awesome tags they'd done and amazing jumps and nearly getting caught by the police. She kicked off her flip-flops – her feet were cold and grimy but she didn't care – and, standing up, clutching the pole, she slid each foot into a skate. They went all the way up her legs almost, not just shoes, like, armour or something. Wobbling about, leaning from pole to pole, she stumbled to the other side of the carriage, and waited for the doors to open.
“This is stupid.” Gum sprawled back in the seat, legs stretched across the aisle. There were already a few keen partygoers and lazy commuters in the carriage, all of whom were studiously avoiding looking at them.
“It's reconnaissance,” Tab said.
“Your face is reconnaissance. We're rudies. We're supposed to check out other people's turf by skating through it, not spying creepily from the subway.”
“Yeah,” Tab said, “but if we get chased down and ten-tagged by a bunch of psycho robot hackers, that's us out of the game before we've even, like, done anything. And Beat's a newbie here. This is like a tour.” He turned to their leader, who was staring out at the night sky and the glittering streets below. “Whaddaya think, leader man?”
Beat grinned, his reflection pasted over with lit-up logos. “It looks how you think Tokyo-to should, you know?”
“God, I used to think this place was so cool when I was a kid,” Gum said, tilting her head back to look as well. “I mean, it's just a bunch of coloured lights but they make it work, somehow. No way the Noise Tanks should get to keep something this awesome.”
“It's not all coloured lights, though,” Tab said. “Like, I figure we could slap some tags up in the sidings, the Tanks hardly go out there -”
“You been watching from your daily commute?” Gum said, prodding him.
“And the roads as well, there's miles of flats and walkways that they've got lazy about, we could hit that -”
“I dunno,” Beat said. “I reckon -” The lights outside vanished as the train sunk and charged into the tunnel. Over the rattle of the wheels, he carried on, “I reckon we should get their attention. Go for – where was it, Genkijomae Square? Or – one of the other lit-up bits, like the heart of their territory. We start picking off the edges, that gives them time to notice and come after us.”
“I like him,” Gum said. “We should keep him.”
“And it means we get the bit with all the pretty lights?” Tab said. The train slid to a halt, bright white station lights and announcements filling the carriage.
“Not gonna lie,” Beat said, “that would be pretty cool.”
“Awesome,” Gum said. “Come on, let's get off this stupid train and fuck some shit up.”
4.
Kogane's only subway station was only just below the ground. Sunset spilled down the chewing-gum-speckled steps. Gum sat on them anyway and tried to stop laughing.
“Dunno why you're gigglin' so much,” Garam said from above her. “That was some pretty serious shit.”
Gum looked up at him, to where he stood on the steps with his arms round a naked, paint-covered shop mannequin, and started laughing again. “Are we seriously taking that thing all the way back home?”
“You suggesting we leave Irma behind? She's suffered enough, Gum. Think how many times she'll have had to watch Scream If You Know What Freddie and Jason Did Last Summer or whatever the hell. Besides -” He tilted the mannequin to study the bite marks on its leg. “She saved my ass when Onishima sent the dogs out. I owe her big.”
“Right.” Gum managed to wipe the grin off her face and turned her radio down enough to listen for noise above ground. Music blaring; a pneumatic drill; someone's car trying to start and failing. No more sirens, and no more roars and snarls from horror junkies on wheels. “Reckon we can make it back out?”
“Probably. The Jammers probably think we, I dunno, teleported or summat. Don't think they can handle the idea of stairs that go into the ground.”
“Harsh. But true.” Gum stood up, jumped the last few steps, skated over to the battered vending machine, and squinted through the graffiti-smeared glass. It was empty of anything edible, though she thought she saw a rat scurry through its depths. “Do trains even stop here? I wouldn't stop here, if I was a train.”
“At peak time they do,” Garam said. “Gotta get all the traffic wardens and baristas out to Shibuya and Benten. Otherwise city'd just grind to a halt.”
“I was shit-scared this'd be really tough,” Gum said, shaking up another paint can and spraying a line of green onto the front of the vending machine. “Like, the Noise Tanks are kind of freaky, but what can they really do if you don't have a computer? But the Poison Jam... you know, when I was a kid it was always someone knew someone whose friend had got, like, murdered in Kogane. And we just... skated in and took their turf -”
“And rescued Irma -”
“And rescued Irma, right. You know, you could probably do with getting laid.”
Garam laughed, swept the mannequin into a ballroom-style dip for a moment. “Why'd you think this babe's coming home with us?”
“Gross. Let's go. This place still gives me the creeps, okay?”
5.
“Tunnels always make me wanna test the echo,” Beat said as he and Mew grinded along the rails. “Wait, that's dorky, isn't it.”
Mew giggled, and the sound did echo, bouncing off the black grimy walls and such a bad match for them it was almost a hallucination. “Maybe,” she called back over the hum of their skates on the metal. “But sort of adorable too. You come down here much before?”
“Nope. Call me a wuss, but I figured charging into the dark place full of high-speed trains without knowing what I was doing might end up kind of badly for all concerned. You must've, right?”
“I -”
Mew leapt off the rail, grabbing his arm, and yanked them both into the dip in the wall. Beat hadn't even noticed the way the ground was trembling but suddenly a train was barrelling past them, light and noise and fast and turn you literally into jam if you don't get out the way in time. It was going so fast he couldn't even see passenger faces. Mew, next to him, was still holding his wrist. She smelt of strawberry perfume or shampoo or something, and that was another complete mismatch with the thick stench of oil and engines and general train stuff all around them.
“I mean, if you're gonna be a rudie in Benten you need to know your way round the tunnels,” she said, once the train had passed. “They're like the best shortcuts. But it is – like, I'd come up from here and I'd be like yesssss, I survived. Again. You know? Most stuff we do is crazy but this is really crazy. And then you skate down to the platform and climb up and all the salarymen and office ladies are like, What? I always came down here when I was in danger of getting bored up above.”
Beat's heart was still going double time and he could hear Mew's breathing was quick and shaky. He wanted to dash, leap and wall-ride and go so fast the air stung his face, but he also wanted to know, “You ever really cut it fine? People must've got killed sometimes... right?”
Mew shrugged. “Mostly you can dodge, long as you keep your ears open.” She bit her lip, glanced away for a moment. “Sometimes when you're down in the dark it does... funny things. You think, like... you just wanna maybe jump because it'd be like, the stupidest thing. And you're a rudie and you do stupid things. And maybe you feel like that's all you are? I dunno. But... then when it goes by and it's all lit up, you think, how fantastic's all the lights gonna look when you get back outside? And you think you don't wanna give that up. Or I don't, anyway.”
Beat wanted to say he got it, but he wasn't sure if he did.
“You better lead me out of here before the rush wears off, then,” he said.
As they went, he looked back down the tunnel. It was dark and silent. Hard to believe something so loud had ever been there.
6.
“This feels really kind of domestic,” Gum said, putting down the shopping bags on the carriage floor and flexing her fingers.
“I'd say more sweaty and exhausting.” Tab took off his hat and fanned himself with it. “Though I guess that could be domestic. Depends what you're into.”
“You know what I mean. Responsible. Thinkin' about budgets and buying in bulk and stuff. Taking the train back, for fuck's sake.”
“You just know if we skated then Onishima'd show up, and then he'd accuse us of holding up a supermarket, and then we'd have to run, and we'd probably kill a cop and then we'd be fugitives, and Beat'd be really mad with us.”
Gum hooked an elbow round the pole in the middle of the aisle, gently swung off it. “It seem weird to you? Gang getting so big already?”
“Five's not crazy-big.”
“Yeah, but it's way more than just us. I mean, what are we doing right? We don't even have a gimmick.”
“We do so. We take all the people who don't want to be a hacker, a horror junkie or an embittered singleton. Plus, we're nice.”
“Oh, great. The GGs. We're nice.”
“Hey, you and I didn't have to haul all this crap back home. We could've taken the money, spent it on pizza, and run. And probably end up killing a cop.”
Gum snorted. “You got something you want to tell me?”
“Only that I think we're doin' okay as we are. Don't they always say to be yourself? And besides, spandex or a jumpsuit or really gross dungarees wouldn't look good on me.”
Gum laughed, swung from the pole again. The train dipped and swayed in time with her, and the shopping bags shifted, but didn't topple over.
7.
When Combo came back from the searching he was so tired he actually didn't even notice Cube weren't there. Which he felt bad about later – one gangmate gone and he couldn't even worry 'bout the other? - but he just walked in the loft, took off his skates and fell asleep soon as he wasn't standing up.
When he woke up, it was morning – clear and bright and not too cold even – and Cube was standing there with two coffees. Handed one to him. “Mr Leibowitz gave 'em to me for free. Think he noticed us running around freaking out.”
Combo took the coffee – heat burn through cardboard – and tried to remember how to drink. “He... he notice anything else?”
“He says not.” Cube went over to the window, cupped her hands round her coffee. Outside there was already yells and clatters from the skate park, the trains on the bridge nearby.
“Where'd you go last night?” Combo said as his brain caught up. “You keep looking?”
“Yeah, for a while. Then I... was freaking out too much. Got scared I'd fuck up a jump or get hit by a car or...” She shrugged. “Went and rode the subway for hours. Jumped the barrier and just... round and round. Tunnels all look the same, so you know. Guess I was thinking... I dunno. People who disappear might show up on a subway carriage at four a.m. He didn't. In case you hadn't guessed.”
She brought the coffee cup to her mouth, sipped. “Let me think, though. He hadn't pissed off anyone from round here, had he? And the only thing that's changed recently is -”
“Those guys in the suits,” Combo finished.
“Right. So we stop wasting time here. We get down to Grind Square, like his tag said. If we don't find anything there, then the main HQ of that Rokkaku Group is in Tokyo. I reckon...”
Combo wanted to say something dumb like it's the other side of the world, but what'd be the point? She was right, after all.
“Hell of a gamble, if he's here,” he said.
“I know. But it's not like we've got a safe option, is it? And I just... it feels like he's not in Grind City any more. It just... god, I don't know. I've been awake all night. Just... when you're staring out the window for hours things seem to... make sense.”
“S'okay, kid.” Combo figured the coffee'd cooled enough for him to take a gulp of it. “Let's head to the Square, first off. See what we can see. Try not to die. All that kinda stuff.”
8.
“Seriously, man,” Combo was saying. “Birdsong on the escalators. Just weird.”
Cube knew normally he wouldn't have gone on about it – Combo was pretty chill about weird stuff happening around him, unless of course it involved his friends disappearing in mysterious circumstances – but she also knew he was talking about shit to try and distract them both from how the hell they were meant to find Coin in a city this big.
Right now – when it felt like she'd used up the last of her brainpower getting them off the plane and onto a train to Tokyo when she barely remembered how to speak, let alone speak Japanese – distraction was probably good. She rested her arms on her knees, stared at the floor. Train floors were way cleaner here. Even the ads on the walls seemed weird and foreign. More... smiley somehow.
“Hope the skaters here won't be too whacked out,” she said. “I mean, rap and metal made it to Japan, right? I'm pretty sure they did.” The words were sliding around in her mouth, she was that tired. “How's your anime knowledge, Combo-san?”
“If I just talk 'bout schoolgirls and tentacles, it'll be fine, right?” he said, and grinned. Cube made herself smile back but everything was sort of... plunging through the carriage floor. “They better not start pulling that stupid funny gaijin shit,” she said, because when she was tired she either said nothing or said everything. “Or act like you're scary because you're a seven-foot-tall black guy or something.”
“Hey, people back home act like I'm scary 'cause I'm a seven-foot-tall black guy.”
“With a ghetto-blaster playing those vulgar obscene hip-hop beat combos. I'm just saying, they pull any shit, I will punch them in the face.”
“Jet-lag always make you this violent?”
Cube scowled at him but it turned into a yawn. “Don't remember. When I last came here I was like six. I probably actually managed to get some sleep in those crappy airplane seats.”
“You could get some sleep now, if you want. They're doin' the signs in English, I'll tell ya when we hit our stop.”
“No. There's nothing I can do to help you or Coin right now except read Japanese signs, so I'm gonna be the best fuckin' Japanese signs reader the world has ever seen. You sleep. Stick some lullabies on that g-blaster.” When you wake up, things'll be better. She could pretend, at least.
9.
“Oh, shit. Oh, shit, okay, we were on fire. That's not a good thing. That is not okay.” Mew slumped against the wall of the sidings, then almost at once sprang back up again. “I mean, this isn't me going crazy, right? There seriously were guys with flamethrowers out there?”
“They looked pretty flamethrower-y to me, yeah.” The new kid – Yo-Yo, that was it – was pale in the lights from the other side of the wall, though his hands were shoved in his pockets and he was standing oh-so-casually like he wanted her to think he was cool. She would've rolled her eyes at any other time, but right now with the whole flamethrower thing she was going to be pretty chill and forgiving about other people's actions. If they weren't trying to set her on fire, they were okay in her book.
“Holy freakin' shit.” She felt her mouth wobble, though she couldn't tell if she was gonna burst out laughing or start crying her eyes out. “Okay. Right. Yeah. How badly on fire were you? I mean, do I have to go all first aid on you? And don't make any sexy nurse jokes, it's so not the time.”
“It's always the time for sexy nurse jokes,” Yo-Yo said, patting himself now. “But I think I'm okay.” He held up his palms, squinted at them. “This is just soot'n paint. No blood or anything. You?”
Mew could feel little sore spots on her shoulder blades and her legs. She balanced on one skate and scowled at the charred holes in her stockings. “Ugh. I think they're just, like, little burns, though? Okay, we were on fire. Onishima's so keen to send tanks and dogs and stuff after us when we do a little painting, how is it okay for those dudes to set people on fire?”
“It's not okay,” Yo-Yo said. “That's why we're stopping 'em.” He skated along to the rusty gate set in the wall nearby. “Although I think they've all pissed off, so we should probably get while the going's good. Or something.”
“Right. Yeah.” Mew took a deep breath, hoping she'd be able to get a grip while they made it home. Maybe she could tell them any tears were, like, from going so fast or something.
“On the other hand,” Yo-Yo said, glancing round, “we could just stay here. They'll only send us back out again and this time it'll probably be... I dunno, laser beams this time.”
Mew giggled, and if it was a bit of shaky giggle, who'd know? “Ha, you're right. Let's not hurry home too fast.” She took one step forward, then another. Her skates clicked on small round stones. Out here, in the dark, chilly sidings, with only silent, still train carriages around her, she could almost believe she'd made the fire up. Until she thought of the tearing-cloth sound of it, and the man laughing. She shivered.
Yo-Yo's hand found hers, the fingers sweaty and shaking. He squeezed her palm for a moment, then let go, and when she looked round he was awkwardly straightening his sunglasses. But it helped anyway.
10.
At least in Benten's subway tunnels they had lights. In Kogane – and Garam figured he should know this, he'd lived here – it was pitch-black. Couldn't see the hand in front of your face, and the light at the end of the tunnel really would be an oncoming train.
Or a sniper with a jetpack, of course. Typical. Just when you'd thought you'd seen everything in this often-completely-insane city, it managed to surprise you.
“We'd hear 'em if they were coming.” Slate's voice sounded all flat and doomy down here, which didn't help. Garam snorted, would've folded his arms in a I-ain't-even-mad pose if anyone could've seen him. “Who says I'm even thinking about those losers now? We saw 'em crash. Most of 'em.”
“Well, I'm thinking about them,” Slate said. “I kind of tend not to forget high-powered sniper rifles. They're memorable, you know?”
Garam was prepared to admit he had a point. In a bit he'd be remembering how freakin' cool he must've looked tagging graffiti without a care in the world while winged snipers zoomed over his head, but right now all he could think of was his hands shaking so much he was scared he'd drop the paint, sweat prickling on his dusty skin, and constantly thinking he could hear a vmmmmmm on the horizon. And the oh fuck oh fuck I really want to hide under a bridge and/or throw up.
“You seemed cool as a cucumber out there,” he said. “Just like you always were.”
He heard Slate laugh. “Why'd you think I keep my jacket coverin' half my face?”
“Because if you didn't, babies'd cry and old ladies'd faint in the street at the horror?”
“Because you can fake it til you make it, dork.”
“You don't need to fake it when it's this dark. Just cry, man, no one'll see.” He could imagine Slate flicking him a V-sign, and laughed. They pressed on through the dark.
11.
It was supposed to be a normal day. Piranha had goofed off in Shibuya, slapping a few of her own tags up where no one'd see, and if these GG punks covered them up straight off then at least she'd had the practice. And then she'd got nervous because it'd seemed just like... there were people out that shouldn't be, and what if she got arrested or ten-tagged or whatever? Dad would kill her (or she'd kill herself if her rudie career was over this soon). So she'd figured she'd be good and get the subway home rather'n skate. She was just going down the steps (walking down 'em, not even grinding or anything) and trying to ignore people looking at her, thinking she was trouble (and proper rudies would probably be okay with that but she still felt embarrassed) when -
There was a boom from up top, and the floor shook. Everyone stopped, on the steps or by the ticket gates, and looked round. Piranha was only halfway down the steps and she was looking up and she was thinking, sun's still shining, can't be anything major like a complete idiot and then there were three more, bang bang bang, and then someone started screaming, and she could smell smoke.
All around her people were whispering and no one was yelling down here but there was this edge, you know? And she looked over at the departure board and – this was the thing that made it real – all the upcoming train times had vanished, everything just had Delayed Delayed.
It was the worst feeling of her life, thinking it'll come here next - whatever it was - and it'll kill me -
So was it surprising when she heard the clack of skates and guy yelling “Tab, you head up to Center Street, I'll take the bus terminal!” she dashed back up the stairs and called “Wait up!” when she hit street level? Squinting in the sun, she saw a guy with red hair and green goggles clutching a can of paint and about to start defacing the nearest billboard. He looked freaked out, but he was doing something, he wasn't just standing there waiting to be – whatever the hell had happened -
“Need a hand?” she managed to say, sounding way cooler than she felt.
He glanced at her and then her skates and then, “Yeah,” he said. “There's... god, I don't know, suicide bombers or something? It's... pretty fucked up -”
“But you got it, right?”
“I figure we can go faster'n them,” he said. “Let's start tagging. Might piss 'em off, at any rate.”
12.
It was the morning after the night before. Beat stared out of the train window, but the only sign of Tokyo nearly being obliterated by a demon was that in the cut-out bits of sky between the buildings, the Rokkaku HQ building had vanished.
“Freak weather conditions, the news was saying...”
“A prank, students or something...”
“Mass hysteria.”
“Terrorists. Shocking... the police should've done something...”
Mostly the subway was quiet in the mornings. Mostly he didn't notice it 'cause he had his headphones on. You may be part of the rat race (even if you're working in a skate shop to get money to feed your illegal street gang) but you don't have to feel like it.
But today everyone was talking. Everyone was talking, and no one knew a thing.
”A construction accident.”
“Isn't health and safety supposed to prevent that?”
“I told the kids, keep the lights out and don't answer the door...”
Mew, squashed between two commuters, caught his eye, grinned. No idea, she mouthed. The train turned a corner and sunk into the tunnel. Going this fast it was impossible to see the dim lights and the brick recesses to duck into, but Beat knew they'd be there. He thought he caught a glimpse of someone's tag like a ghost against the wall. Were you meant to feel like this after saving the world? He wasn't sure. Usually when you'd saved the world didn't everyone know? Usually when you saved the world everyone knew what you'd saved it from. The train slid to a halt, and he scrambled out, following Mew onto the platform. The doors slammed shut, and he watched it disappear into the dark, lights painting a trail.
twelve results of travel
[Title] Train Songs
[Fandom] Jet Set Radio
[Notes/Summary] Twelve instances of reckless graffiti rollerblading punks on trains, and what they got from their journeys.
1.
The long journey probably helped. The stockpiling cash in a sock, and the trying to see how much stuff you could fit in one tiny rucksack, and the buying a one-way ticket – all of that had just made Beat feel kind of sick. And the waiting on an empty platform with no sound but the repeated announcements of the next train, and flat blackness outside the window with the carriage lights like smears of paint on the glass, and being too tired and too scared to sleep, and the few other passengers side-eyeing him – all of that it was like someone was yelling in his ear that running away to Tokyo-to was a terrible idea and no matter how bad things got at home, this was never, ever going to work.
But somewhere along the line the sun came up: pale, dusty light glinting on puddles and sending wobbly shadows of the houses sprawling onto the track. The sun came up and Beat squinted out of the window at it and suddenly he'd left all the terror behind in the light. The train chattered along and he watched the wires rise and fall against the sky, and then slowly bare paths and forests began to turn into low-roofed houses and telegraph poles and signs and he'd actually made it, he was actually travelling into Tokyo-to right this second, and the journey stopped feeling like running away and turned into real life, it's about to start.
2.
Gum had messed around on her sister's skates often enough, but only down their street, and once or twice clambering from the balcony and skidding across the roofs. So – and she was pretty pissed off about this, she was pretty sure real rudies wouldn't – she'd got the subway over to the skate shop on the other side of town and now instead of dashing home on wheels she was sitting on an itchy seat with her new skates in a box on her lap. They felt really heavy being held like this, but she could rest her arms on them and the whole thing, the box and everything, it all smelt really new, like when you were a kid and you'd got a new toy.
Two stops to go. At least the carriage wasn't full, and wasn't like anyone would care she'd cut school. Sun was breaking through the clouds, just visible above the houses. Blue shadow covered the station vending machines, the signs telling you not to push, the damp benches. She wrapped her arms round the box more tightly and then she was just like you're pathetic so she started wrenching at the lid instead. The skates were packed round with brown paper, it smelt like old books. They were shiny green and white and the wheels were smooth, never been worn, and she was unpacking them on the subway and they were going over the bridge and it was last-but-one stop and she knew all of this because she'd been riding this route for years. Real rudies didn't take the train home like they were coming back from school. Real rudies never went to the same place twice. Or if they did, it didn't remind them of school and wobbly teeth and kicking stupid boys in your class in the shins, it just reminded them of... like, awesome tags they'd done and amazing jumps and nearly getting caught by the police. She kicked off her flip-flops – her feet were cold and grimy but she didn't care – and, standing up, clutching the pole, she slid each foot into a skate. They went all the way up her legs almost, not just shoes, like, armour or something. Wobbling about, leaning from pole to pole, she stumbled to the other side of the carriage, and waited for the doors to open.
“This is stupid.” Gum sprawled back in the seat, legs stretched across the aisle. There were already a few keen partygoers and lazy commuters in the carriage, all of whom were studiously avoiding looking at them.
“It's reconnaissance,” Tab said.
“Your face is reconnaissance. We're rudies. We're supposed to check out other people's turf by skating through it, not spying creepily from the subway.”
“Yeah,” Tab said, “but if we get chased down and ten-tagged by a bunch of psycho robot hackers, that's us out of the game before we've even, like, done anything. And Beat's a newbie here. This is like a tour.” He turned to their leader, who was staring out at the night sky and the glittering streets below. “Whaddaya think, leader man?”
Beat grinned, his reflection pasted over with lit-up logos. “It looks how you think Tokyo-to should, you know?”
“God, I used to think this place was so cool when I was a kid,” Gum said, tilting her head back to look as well. “I mean, it's just a bunch of coloured lights but they make it work, somehow. No way the Noise Tanks should get to keep something this awesome.”
“It's not all coloured lights, though,” Tab said. “Like, I figure we could slap some tags up in the sidings, the Tanks hardly go out there -”
“You been watching from your daily commute?” Gum said, prodding him.
“And the roads as well, there's miles of flats and walkways that they've got lazy about, we could hit that -”
“I dunno,” Beat said. “I reckon -” The lights outside vanished as the train sunk and charged into the tunnel. Over the rattle of the wheels, he carried on, “I reckon we should get their attention. Go for – where was it, Genkijomae Square? Or – one of the other lit-up bits, like the heart of their territory. We start picking off the edges, that gives them time to notice and come after us.”
“I like him,” Gum said. “We should keep him.”
“And it means we get the bit with all the pretty lights?” Tab said. The train slid to a halt, bright white station lights and announcements filling the carriage.
“Not gonna lie,” Beat said, “that would be pretty cool.”
“Awesome,” Gum said. “Come on, let's get off this stupid train and fuck some shit up.”
4.
Kogane's only subway station was only just below the ground. Sunset spilled down the chewing-gum-speckled steps. Gum sat on them anyway and tried to stop laughing.
“Dunno why you're gigglin' so much,” Garam said from above her. “That was some pretty serious shit.”
Gum looked up at him, to where he stood on the steps with his arms round a naked, paint-covered shop mannequin, and started laughing again. “Are we seriously taking that thing all the way back home?”
“You suggesting we leave Irma behind? She's suffered enough, Gum. Think how many times she'll have had to watch Scream If You Know What Freddie and Jason Did Last Summer or whatever the hell. Besides -” He tilted the mannequin to study the bite marks on its leg. “She saved my ass when Onishima sent the dogs out. I owe her big.”
“Right.” Gum managed to wipe the grin off her face and turned her radio down enough to listen for noise above ground. Music blaring; a pneumatic drill; someone's car trying to start and failing. No more sirens, and no more roars and snarls from horror junkies on wheels. “Reckon we can make it back out?”
“Probably. The Jammers probably think we, I dunno, teleported or summat. Don't think they can handle the idea of stairs that go into the ground.”
“Harsh. But true.” Gum stood up, jumped the last few steps, skated over to the battered vending machine, and squinted through the graffiti-smeared glass. It was empty of anything edible, though she thought she saw a rat scurry through its depths. “Do trains even stop here? I wouldn't stop here, if I was a train.”
“At peak time they do,” Garam said. “Gotta get all the traffic wardens and baristas out to Shibuya and Benten. Otherwise city'd just grind to a halt.”
“I was shit-scared this'd be really tough,” Gum said, shaking up another paint can and spraying a line of green onto the front of the vending machine. “Like, the Noise Tanks are kind of freaky, but what can they really do if you don't have a computer? But the Poison Jam... you know, when I was a kid it was always someone knew someone whose friend had got, like, murdered in Kogane. And we just... skated in and took their turf -”
“And rescued Irma -”
“And rescued Irma, right. You know, you could probably do with getting laid.”
Garam laughed, swept the mannequin into a ballroom-style dip for a moment. “Why'd you think this babe's coming home with us?”
“Gross. Let's go. This place still gives me the creeps, okay?”
5.
“Tunnels always make me wanna test the echo,” Beat said as he and Mew grinded along the rails. “Wait, that's dorky, isn't it.”
Mew giggled, and the sound did echo, bouncing off the black grimy walls and such a bad match for them it was almost a hallucination. “Maybe,” she called back over the hum of their skates on the metal. “But sort of adorable too. You come down here much before?”
“Nope. Call me a wuss, but I figured charging into the dark place full of high-speed trains without knowing what I was doing might end up kind of badly for all concerned. You must've, right?”
“I -”
Mew leapt off the rail, grabbing his arm, and yanked them both into the dip in the wall. Beat hadn't even noticed the way the ground was trembling but suddenly a train was barrelling past them, light and noise and fast and turn you literally into jam if you don't get out the way in time. It was going so fast he couldn't even see passenger faces. Mew, next to him, was still holding his wrist. She smelt of strawberry perfume or shampoo or something, and that was another complete mismatch with the thick stench of oil and engines and general train stuff all around them.
“I mean, if you're gonna be a rudie in Benten you need to know your way round the tunnels,” she said, once the train had passed. “They're like the best shortcuts. But it is – like, I'd come up from here and I'd be like yesssss, I survived. Again. You know? Most stuff we do is crazy but this is really crazy. And then you skate down to the platform and climb up and all the salarymen and office ladies are like, What? I always came down here when I was in danger of getting bored up above.”
Beat's heart was still going double time and he could hear Mew's breathing was quick and shaky. He wanted to dash, leap and wall-ride and go so fast the air stung his face, but he also wanted to know, “You ever really cut it fine? People must've got killed sometimes... right?”
Mew shrugged. “Mostly you can dodge, long as you keep your ears open.” She bit her lip, glanced away for a moment. “Sometimes when you're down in the dark it does... funny things. You think, like... you just wanna maybe jump because it'd be like, the stupidest thing. And you're a rudie and you do stupid things. And maybe you feel like that's all you are? I dunno. But... then when it goes by and it's all lit up, you think, how fantastic's all the lights gonna look when you get back outside? And you think you don't wanna give that up. Or I don't, anyway.”
Beat wanted to say he got it, but he wasn't sure if he did.
“You better lead me out of here before the rush wears off, then,” he said.
As they went, he looked back down the tunnel. It was dark and silent. Hard to believe something so loud had ever been there.
6.
“This feels really kind of domestic,” Gum said, putting down the shopping bags on the carriage floor and flexing her fingers.
“I'd say more sweaty and exhausting.” Tab took off his hat and fanned himself with it. “Though I guess that could be domestic. Depends what you're into.”
“You know what I mean. Responsible. Thinkin' about budgets and buying in bulk and stuff. Taking the train back, for fuck's sake.”
“You just know if we skated then Onishima'd show up, and then he'd accuse us of holding up a supermarket, and then we'd have to run, and we'd probably kill a cop and then we'd be fugitives, and Beat'd be really mad with us.”
Gum hooked an elbow round the pole in the middle of the aisle, gently swung off it. “It seem weird to you? Gang getting so big already?”
“Five's not crazy-big.”
“Yeah, but it's way more than just us. I mean, what are we doing right? We don't even have a gimmick.”
“We do so. We take all the people who don't want to be a hacker, a horror junkie or an embittered singleton. Plus, we're nice.”
“Oh, great. The GGs. We're nice.”
“Hey, you and I didn't have to haul all this crap back home. We could've taken the money, spent it on pizza, and run. And probably end up killing a cop.”
Gum snorted. “You got something you want to tell me?”
“Only that I think we're doin' okay as we are. Don't they always say to be yourself? And besides, spandex or a jumpsuit or really gross dungarees wouldn't look good on me.”
Gum laughed, swung from the pole again. The train dipped and swayed in time with her, and the shopping bags shifted, but didn't topple over.
7.
When Combo came back from the searching he was so tired he actually didn't even notice Cube weren't there. Which he felt bad about later – one gangmate gone and he couldn't even worry 'bout the other? - but he just walked in the loft, took off his skates and fell asleep soon as he wasn't standing up.
When he woke up, it was morning – clear and bright and not too cold even – and Cube was standing there with two coffees. Handed one to him. “Mr Leibowitz gave 'em to me for free. Think he noticed us running around freaking out.”
Combo took the coffee – heat burn through cardboard – and tried to remember how to drink. “He... he notice anything else?”
“He says not.” Cube went over to the window, cupped her hands round her coffee. Outside there was already yells and clatters from the skate park, the trains on the bridge nearby.
“Where'd you go last night?” Combo said as his brain caught up. “You keep looking?”
“Yeah, for a while. Then I... was freaking out too much. Got scared I'd fuck up a jump or get hit by a car or...” She shrugged. “Went and rode the subway for hours. Jumped the barrier and just... round and round. Tunnels all look the same, so you know. Guess I was thinking... I dunno. People who disappear might show up on a subway carriage at four a.m. He didn't. In case you hadn't guessed.”
She brought the coffee cup to her mouth, sipped. “Let me think, though. He hadn't pissed off anyone from round here, had he? And the only thing that's changed recently is -”
“Those guys in the suits,” Combo finished.
“Right. So we stop wasting time here. We get down to Grind Square, like his tag said. If we don't find anything there, then the main HQ of that Rokkaku Group is in Tokyo. I reckon...”
Combo wanted to say something dumb like it's the other side of the world, but what'd be the point? She was right, after all.
“Hell of a gamble, if he's here,” he said.
“I know. But it's not like we've got a safe option, is it? And I just... it feels like he's not in Grind City any more. It just... god, I don't know. I've been awake all night. Just... when you're staring out the window for hours things seem to... make sense.”
“S'okay, kid.” Combo figured the coffee'd cooled enough for him to take a gulp of it. “Let's head to the Square, first off. See what we can see. Try not to die. All that kinda stuff.”
8.
“Seriously, man,” Combo was saying. “Birdsong on the escalators. Just weird.”
Cube knew normally he wouldn't have gone on about it – Combo was pretty chill about weird stuff happening around him, unless of course it involved his friends disappearing in mysterious circumstances – but she also knew he was talking about shit to try and distract them both from how the hell they were meant to find Coin in a city this big.
Right now – when it felt like she'd used up the last of her brainpower getting them off the plane and onto a train to Tokyo when she barely remembered how to speak, let alone speak Japanese – distraction was probably good. She rested her arms on her knees, stared at the floor. Train floors were way cleaner here. Even the ads on the walls seemed weird and foreign. More... smiley somehow.
“Hope the skaters here won't be too whacked out,” she said. “I mean, rap and metal made it to Japan, right? I'm pretty sure they did.” The words were sliding around in her mouth, she was that tired. “How's your anime knowledge, Combo-san?”
“If I just talk 'bout schoolgirls and tentacles, it'll be fine, right?” he said, and grinned. Cube made herself smile back but everything was sort of... plunging through the carriage floor. “They better not start pulling that stupid funny gaijin shit,” she said, because when she was tired she either said nothing or said everything. “Or act like you're scary because you're a seven-foot-tall black guy or something.”
“Hey, people back home act like I'm scary 'cause I'm a seven-foot-tall black guy.”
“With a ghetto-blaster playing those vulgar obscene hip-hop beat combos. I'm just saying, they pull any shit, I will punch them in the face.”
“Jet-lag always make you this violent?”
Cube scowled at him but it turned into a yawn. “Don't remember. When I last came here I was like six. I probably actually managed to get some sleep in those crappy airplane seats.”
“You could get some sleep now, if you want. They're doin' the signs in English, I'll tell ya when we hit our stop.”
“No. There's nothing I can do to help you or Coin right now except read Japanese signs, so I'm gonna be the best fuckin' Japanese signs reader the world has ever seen. You sleep. Stick some lullabies on that g-blaster.” When you wake up, things'll be better. She could pretend, at least.
9.
“Oh, shit. Oh, shit, okay, we were on fire. That's not a good thing. That is not okay.” Mew slumped against the wall of the sidings, then almost at once sprang back up again. “I mean, this isn't me going crazy, right? There seriously were guys with flamethrowers out there?”
“They looked pretty flamethrower-y to me, yeah.” The new kid – Yo-Yo, that was it – was pale in the lights from the other side of the wall, though his hands were shoved in his pockets and he was standing oh-so-casually like he wanted her to think he was cool. She would've rolled her eyes at any other time, but right now with the whole flamethrower thing she was going to be pretty chill and forgiving about other people's actions. If they weren't trying to set her on fire, they were okay in her book.
“Holy freakin' shit.” She felt her mouth wobble, though she couldn't tell if she was gonna burst out laughing or start crying her eyes out. “Okay. Right. Yeah. How badly on fire were you? I mean, do I have to go all first aid on you? And don't make any sexy nurse jokes, it's so not the time.”
“It's always the time for sexy nurse jokes,” Yo-Yo said, patting himself now. “But I think I'm okay.” He held up his palms, squinted at them. “This is just soot'n paint. No blood or anything. You?”
Mew could feel little sore spots on her shoulder blades and her legs. She balanced on one skate and scowled at the charred holes in her stockings. “Ugh. I think they're just, like, little burns, though? Okay, we were on fire. Onishima's so keen to send tanks and dogs and stuff after us when we do a little painting, how is it okay for those dudes to set people on fire?”
“It's not okay,” Yo-Yo said. “That's why we're stopping 'em.” He skated along to the rusty gate set in the wall nearby. “Although I think they've all pissed off, so we should probably get while the going's good. Or something.”
“Right. Yeah.” Mew took a deep breath, hoping she'd be able to get a grip while they made it home. Maybe she could tell them any tears were, like, from going so fast or something.
“On the other hand,” Yo-Yo said, glancing round, “we could just stay here. They'll only send us back out again and this time it'll probably be... I dunno, laser beams this time.”
Mew giggled, and if it was a bit of shaky giggle, who'd know? “Ha, you're right. Let's not hurry home too fast.” She took one step forward, then another. Her skates clicked on small round stones. Out here, in the dark, chilly sidings, with only silent, still train carriages around her, she could almost believe she'd made the fire up. Until she thought of the tearing-cloth sound of it, and the man laughing. She shivered.
Yo-Yo's hand found hers, the fingers sweaty and shaking. He squeezed her palm for a moment, then let go, and when she looked round he was awkwardly straightening his sunglasses. But it helped anyway.
10.
At least in Benten's subway tunnels they had lights. In Kogane – and Garam figured he should know this, he'd lived here – it was pitch-black. Couldn't see the hand in front of your face, and the light at the end of the tunnel really would be an oncoming train.
Or a sniper with a jetpack, of course. Typical. Just when you'd thought you'd seen everything in this often-completely-insane city, it managed to surprise you.
“We'd hear 'em if they were coming.” Slate's voice sounded all flat and doomy down here, which didn't help. Garam snorted, would've folded his arms in a I-ain't-even-mad pose if anyone could've seen him. “Who says I'm even thinking about those losers now? We saw 'em crash. Most of 'em.”
“Well, I'm thinking about them,” Slate said. “I kind of tend not to forget high-powered sniper rifles. They're memorable, you know?”
Garam was prepared to admit he had a point. In a bit he'd be remembering how freakin' cool he must've looked tagging graffiti without a care in the world while winged snipers zoomed over his head, but right now all he could think of was his hands shaking so much he was scared he'd drop the paint, sweat prickling on his dusty skin, and constantly thinking he could hear a vmmmmmm on the horizon. And the oh fuck oh fuck I really want to hide under a bridge and/or throw up.
“You seemed cool as a cucumber out there,” he said. “Just like you always were.”
He heard Slate laugh. “Why'd you think I keep my jacket coverin' half my face?”
“Because if you didn't, babies'd cry and old ladies'd faint in the street at the horror?”
“Because you can fake it til you make it, dork.”
“You don't need to fake it when it's this dark. Just cry, man, no one'll see.” He could imagine Slate flicking him a V-sign, and laughed. They pressed on through the dark.
11.
It was supposed to be a normal day. Piranha had goofed off in Shibuya, slapping a few of her own tags up where no one'd see, and if these GG punks covered them up straight off then at least she'd had the practice. And then she'd got nervous because it'd seemed just like... there were people out that shouldn't be, and what if she got arrested or ten-tagged or whatever? Dad would kill her (or she'd kill herself if her rudie career was over this soon). So she'd figured she'd be good and get the subway home rather'n skate. She was just going down the steps (walking down 'em, not even grinding or anything) and trying to ignore people looking at her, thinking she was trouble (and proper rudies would probably be okay with that but she still felt embarrassed) when -
There was a boom from up top, and the floor shook. Everyone stopped, on the steps or by the ticket gates, and looked round. Piranha was only halfway down the steps and she was looking up and she was thinking, sun's still shining, can't be anything major like a complete idiot and then there were three more, bang bang bang, and then someone started screaming, and she could smell smoke.
All around her people were whispering and no one was yelling down here but there was this edge, you know? And she looked over at the departure board and – this was the thing that made it real – all the upcoming train times had vanished, everything just had Delayed Delayed.
It was the worst feeling of her life, thinking it'll come here next - whatever it was - and it'll kill me -
So was it surprising when she heard the clack of skates and guy yelling “Tab, you head up to Center Street, I'll take the bus terminal!” she dashed back up the stairs and called “Wait up!” when she hit street level? Squinting in the sun, she saw a guy with red hair and green goggles clutching a can of paint and about to start defacing the nearest billboard. He looked freaked out, but he was doing something, he wasn't just standing there waiting to be – whatever the hell had happened -
“Need a hand?” she managed to say, sounding way cooler than she felt.
He glanced at her and then her skates and then, “Yeah,” he said. “There's... god, I don't know, suicide bombers or something? It's... pretty fucked up -”
“But you got it, right?”
“I figure we can go faster'n them,” he said. “Let's start tagging. Might piss 'em off, at any rate.”
12.
It was the morning after the night before. Beat stared out of the train window, but the only sign of Tokyo nearly being obliterated by a demon was that in the cut-out bits of sky between the buildings, the Rokkaku HQ building had vanished.
“Freak weather conditions, the news was saying...”
“A prank, students or something...”
“Mass hysteria.”
“Terrorists. Shocking... the police should've done something...”
Mostly the subway was quiet in the mornings. Mostly he didn't notice it 'cause he had his headphones on. You may be part of the rat race (even if you're working in a skate shop to get money to feed your illegal street gang) but you don't have to feel like it.
But today everyone was talking. Everyone was talking, and no one knew a thing.
”A construction accident.”
“Isn't health and safety supposed to prevent that?”
“I told the kids, keep the lights out and don't answer the door...”
Mew, squashed between two commuters, caught his eye, grinned. No idea, she mouthed. The train turned a corner and sunk into the tunnel. Going this fast it was impossible to see the dim lights and the brick recesses to duck into, but Beat knew they'd be there. He thought he caught a glimpse of someone's tag like a ghost against the wall. Were you meant to feel like this after saving the world? He wasn't sure. Usually when you'd saved the world didn't everyone know? Usually when you saved the world everyone knew what you'd saved it from. The train slid to a halt, and he scrambled out, following Mew onto the platform. The doors slammed shut, and he watched it disappear into the dark, lights painting a trail.
