Author's Note: During the time I've spent crafting Sailor Moon fanfics, I've tried to mix real world situations into my stories to lend them a contemporary feel. In this latest story, I tackle yet another series of real life problems: drug addiction and organized crime, tying it in with an original, yet fiendish Negaverse plot to create havoc on Earth. And since I'm dealing with mobsters, I thought I'd throw a highly popular fictional character into the mix who wages a neverending war against such foes: Batman. Including the Dark Knight in this story is crucial as it explores the depths of obsession and the traumatic way it will affect one of the Scouts who sinks into a maelstrom of guilt and rage to avenge the death of a friend. And who better than Bruce Wayne to understand the power of obsession which has driven him to battle evil since the murder of his parents when he was a child? If you wish to comment on my story, either positively or negatively, don't hesitate to contact me at treetop@voicenet.com. Sailor Moon and all related characters are the property of Takeuchi Naoko, Toei Animation and DIC. Batman and all related characters are the property of Bob Kane and DC Comics. So, please, don't sue me because I haven't any money. I do this strictly for entertainment purposes, not copyright infringement.
To Live And Die In Tokyo
by Jeffrey C. Branch
Prologue
Rating: PG-13
10:30 PM: Gotham City
Vinnie Manero was deathly afraid of heights. Although he was forty-five years old, he had never flown in his life and even avoided being in skyscrapers if he could help it. Vinnie considered himself a groundhog and was proud of that particular distinction. But tonight, he was above the ground. Very high above the ground.
Despite being a hardened career mobster who specialized in legbreaking, extortion and murder, Manero felt like crying as he dangled some thirty stories up, his ankles bound by a thin, yet incredibly strong nylon line tied to a flagpole. Even though he knew he shouldn't have done so, Manero opened his eyes and cried out from horror at seeing the street, seemingly miles below him.
"HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME! PLEASE!"
"No one can hear you, Vinnie. And no one's going to help you. Except me. But only if you talk," came a low, growling voice, cold as an Arctic wind and filled with deadly intent. "I'm going to ask you again. Who ordered the hit on Sheila McCrae?"
Manero shook his head emphatically. "No way, man! No way! I can't tell you that! He'll kill me if I squeal!"
"Right now, that's the least of your worries. All I have to do is cut this line, and your next stop is the sidewalk," said the voice with a menacing hardness. An ebony gloved hand produced a thin bladed knife and displayed it for Manero to see. It's blade glinted brightly in the moonlight. "I'm losing my patience with you, Vinnie. Last time. Who ordered the hit?"
"It was Carlo! Carlo made the call! Please! I'm begging you, man! Don't kill me!" Manero shrieked, beside himself from fright as he proceeded to babble all sorts of things in a high pitched squeal to the voice.
"That's all I need to hear. Time for you to go." The knife disappeared from Manero's sight. Fearing he was about to die, the mobster screamed for all he was worth. Then he passed out.
Detective Lieutenant Harvey Bullock, the human equivalent of an unmade bed in his rumpled suit and trenchcoat tilted back the weather-beaten fedora on his head and looked up at the sight before his eyes. Vinnie Manero, trussed up like a Christmas goose and dangling from a street lamp. Bullock rubbed his stubbled chin and scowled.
"Ya know, Commish, I don't mind ol' pointy ears helping us with the trash," Bullock grumbled. "But for once, I'd appreciate it if he'd put it on the curb like everyone else. I feel like a dad blasted fireman pullin' cats outta trees."
Police Commissioner James Gordon, looking up at the trussed man nodded. "I'll mention that to our friend when I see him. But for now, let's get Vinnie down from there and into a cell."
Bullock turned and pointed to a pair of uniformed officers standing nearby. "West! Keaton! You heard the boss! Find a ladder and bring that lowlife down!"
While Bullock busied himself with his task, Gordon left him and casually walked into a nearby alley. When he was halfway down, he heard the voice.
"Over here, Jim."
Gordon turned sharply to his left and saw the Batman emerge from the shadows, silent as death itself. Gotham's top cop, momentarily startled frowned at his caped friend.
"One of these days, you're gonna give me a coronary with that stunt," Gordon growled. "Get anything useful out of Vinnie?"
Batman nodded slightly. "Yes. Manero confirmed our suspicions. Carlo Falcone was behind the hit on Sheila McCrae."
"I thought as much. Poor Sheila got too close to the Falcon when she started investigating his drug distribution operation." Gordon paused to reflect on the woman's brutal murder four days ago. The memory made him shiver slightly. "I warned Sheila to go slow, noting Falcone's violent rep, but, she wouldn't listen. As Gotham's new Assistant D.A., she was hellbent on making a name for herself by busting that crimelord sleazebag. Only he got her first."
"McCrae knew the risks, Jim. Same as you. Her devotion to justice was second to none."
"For all the good it did her. Devotion's a damn poor defense against a NATO slug to the head from a sniper rifle."
"You don't mean that."
Gordon removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "You're right, I don't. It's been a long day and I'm tired. Did you get a make on the shooter?"
"He was an import. A Yakuza triggerman," Batman replied. "After the hit, he fled town. By the time I caught up with him in New Jersey, he had committed ritual suicide in a fleatrap hotel room. Disemboweled himself."
Gordon cocked an eyebrow. He didn't expect that. "A Japanese hood? What's the connection?"
"Word on the streets has it that the Mafia and the Yakuza are in the process of forming an alliance to take over the drug trade in this country. The Mob wants to regain it's dominance in the narcotics game which they've lost to the Black and Latino gangs, the Colombians, the Jamaican Posse, the Chinese Triads and now, the Russian mobs," Batman explained. "And the Yakuza's looking to gain a foothold in America and expand their criminal empire worldwide. Falcone's said to be the point man in the negotiations between Tokyo and the Mob's ruling council in New York. McCrae must've stumbled onto the plan. I suspect that was what got her killed."
Gordon scowled after digesting all he had heard. "The more I hear of this case, the less I like it. Speaking of the Falcon, where do you think he's flown off to after the hit on Sheila?"
"I have an idea. I'll be in touch." Batman then melted back into the shadows he emerged from, leaving Gordon alone in the alley. With a weary sigh, the cop turned up the collar on his overcoat and left.
Deep in the bowels of huge, foreboding cave, lit by fluorescent lamps that shined down upon the latest in scientific equipment, a large, sophisticated laboratory, several powerful computers and a bizarre collection of souvenirs like a lifesize Tyrannasaurus Rex statue and a giant penny, Alfred Pennyworth paused from dusting the hood of a sleek, futuristic ebony car to stare up at a lean, hawknosed face with slicked back, oily dark hair on a large, six foot wide monitor screen.
"Your partner for golf tomorrow, Master Bruce?" Alfred asked wryly.
Seated in a highback, black leather swivel chair, Batman, his cowl removed to reveal the handsome but intense face of billionaire businessman and socialite Bruce Wayne shook his head slightly.
"Hardly, Alfred. That's Carlo Falcone, a.k.a. 'The Falcon'. He's the man behind the murder of Assistant D.A. Sheila McCrae."
Alfred gave the face on the screen closer scrutiny. "Hmm. I've read the press accounts, sir. Nasty business, the young woman's death. Assassinated in broad daylight in front of her home I understand. Might one inquire as to how this Falcone person is involved?"
Wayne gave a brief explanation to his manservant, similar to what he had told Gordon a half hour earlier. Alfred took it all in with a nod. "And do you know where this ruffian has fled to?"
"I do. Tokyo," Wayne replied.
"Why there?"
"Two reasons. One, he's personally brokering the negotiations between the Mafia and the Yakuza. High ranking Mafiosi from their ruling council will be headed there soon to finalize the deal. As for the second reason: Tokyo is home to Falcone. He was born there."
Alfred cocked an eyebrow from curiosity. "A Sicilian gangster born in Japan. What an unusual combination. How did that come about?"
"Falcone's father, Salvatore was hiding out in Tokyo to avoid racketeering charges in the States. He married a high priced call girl working in a Yakuza brothel who gave birth to a son," Wayne explained. "Carlo spent the first nineteen years of his life in Tokyo, soaked up the customs, the traditions, everything. He even speaks better Japanese than he does Italian. Carlo then came to the States where he joined the Gotham mob and quietly rose through the ranks to become one of the most powerful, not to mention most dangerous and untouchable bosses in the city's history. And he's only forty."
"So where does Falcone fit in with this Mafia-Yakuza scheme?"
"According to rumors, Carlo dreamed it up. He knows how the Yakuza works first hand, knows how coldly ruthless the organization is. With the Yakuza's machine-like precision, backed up by enough muscle and weaponry to overthrow a third world country, the Mafia could well return to the top of the food chain in the American drug trade. But not without the all-too likely specter of bloody turf wars from coast to coast. That can't be allowed to happen."
"So I take it you're going to Japan and nip this madness in the bud?"
"Yes." Wayne switched off the monitor, then rose from his chair, his face set in rock hard, unshakable determination. "Robin, Nightwing and Batgirl can handle things here in Gotham while I'm away. It's time the Falcon had his wings clipped. Permanently."
Wayne then headed upstairs into the house. Alfred, watching his employer slowly nodded. He had seen that piercing, steely eyed look on Wayne's face many, many times before. It told the butler that no force on Earth would stop Batman from accomplishing his mission.
"It would appear that a Dark Knight is about to descend on the Land of the Rising Sun," Alfred muttered.
Next: A Friend In Need