See the comments :)

Having stood there discussing it for about three minutes, we eventually decided that we should probably get the hell out of the office and tell someone. We managed to do that successfully, but the technician was in the office for about two hours, and the coffee machine was out of action for another week and a half. All in all, I’d learnt not to trust Andromeda that much, especially with one of his ‘ideas’. Last time, though, he hadn’t intended for anything major to happen, but I could tell from his face that he really was serious this time around.
“Hell, we may as well just go, ‘cause we’ll be more productive there than here, am I right?” said Phoenix.
“I guess so,” I replied, not entirely trusting myself with the decision. It seemed Phoenix had sensed that I wasn’t completely satisfied, and that my mind was far from made up. He opened his mouth to say something to me, but was interrupted by Andromeda, who hadn’t noticed my hesitation.
“Well come on then, what are we waiting for?” he encouraged. Phoenix shot me a quick glance that told me pretty much everything I needed to know. We haven’t really got a choice, mate. Let’s just try to do what we can. Still standing, I sighed, and accepted the decision.
Phoenix stood up and we went to leave, but just as I opened the door, the cat (which had been sleeping all through our discussion) woke up, yawned, stretched, and hopped onto the sofa next to Andromeda, who promptly stroked it. He was about to get up, when the sofa gave one final almighty creak beneath him, and collapsed in on itself. The cat hissed and bolted out of the open door, leaving Andromeda sitting awkwardly in the middle of the imploded sofa surrounded by cushions with his legs dangling over the edge of the frame, looking like a small child who had tried to sit on a toilet but got stuck in the seat.
Andromeda sighed. Turns out there was a spring in the left hand side of the prehistoric piece of furniture. Well, when I say was, had been is probably better. The spring had completely shattered.

Part VI

When Andromeda said casino, I didn’t realise he actually meant the bar in the casino.
The three of us were leaning on the counter while the bartender made us some drinks, and Andromeda was looking very pleased with himself, happily chatting to another man in Japanese (who I rather hoped wasn’t drunk). In all honesty, Andromeda was the only one of us who was really used to this kind of environment – he could quite happily stay in the casino or the bar for another week, whereas Phoenix – a man of sensible, more mature nature – was looking quite uncomfortable and overwhelmed by everything. This wasn’t his cup of tea, and I knew it. I wasn’t totally at ease with the whole thing either, but from the looks of things I was doing better than my older associate. No matter, though, drinks had arrived.
I thanked the bartender in Japanese, paid him, and handed the drink over to Phoenix, who downed it gratefully.
“Jesus, not that fast mate,” I laughed.
“Heh, no, I could go on for another five pints!” he joked, and we both laughed.
Then the bartender, evidently free of any business for a few moments, wandered back over to us, and started speaking in Japanese.
“You are not local, are you, you three?” he asked, gesturing to Andromeda (who was now drinking and chatting, God help us), Phoenix and me.
“No, we are not,” Phoenix answered, fluent as ever in whatever foreign language he spoke, “we come from England, Great Britain.”
“Ah,” he said understandingly, then he began speaking in English. “Your, ah . . . politics, is . . . not good, no? Brexit?”
“Oh yeah, no, not very good at all!” I replied, and all three of us chuckled. Hell, even the Japanese know that Brexit is a big deal. What has the world come to?
I leaned over and whispered in Phoenix’s ear. “This is why I hate politics, in a nutshell.” He sni**ered, and I carried on talking to the bartender in Japanese, fnding out about the place and what life was like in Tokyo.
After a while, I shook hands with the bartender, and he went back to business serving drinks. I turned back to Phoenix, who was happily sitting on a bar stool, leaning his elbow on the table, and looking around the casino. I took the seat to his left, and conversation returned once again to the mystery of the possible attacks in a few short days. I was completely baffled by everything.

“So let’s get this straight,” I started, “what have we found? There was the chocolate bar wrapper in the vending machine– ”
“I don’t know about you, but I think Andromeda did well to spot that,” Phoenix cut in.
“Yes,” I said, peering round to look at Andromeda again – this time he appeared to be in a race with two locals, seeing who could down a pint the fastest. “Quite lucky.” I thought I warned him not to get drunk before we came here . . .
“So there was that, the strange bike advert, what else . . . Oh yeah, the phone call. The agent got cut off by something on his end of the line. There must have been someone else there.”
“Mmm, and on top of that, I’ve noticed something else.”
“Oh God, what?” I asked, dreading that the worst was still yet to come.
“Well, this is a casino, right? And they have loads of different games that anyone can join, right?” I nodded. “Each of the games has a leaderboard, and it’s a monthly competition – each month the board resets. At the end, they keep the results and put a hard copy onto one of the walls, over there.” He pointed to a wall full of sheets of paper pinned to it, which I’d noticed when we’d come in. Only Phoenix, however, had gone over to look at it more closely.
“One of the betting, gambling games,” he continued, “has been won by the same guy for the past year – that’s as far back as the records go, to save space. And look: there he is, over there. The one in the cream-coloured jacket with the gold necklace and a pendant on it.”
I followed his gesture to a man who matched that description. He was a native, with waxed black hair that was now mostly grey, and he wore glasses with black rims. His trousers were the same cream colour as his jacket, and he had a white shirt on underneath it, with the top button undone This meant that the gold necklace was just visible beneath it. Phoenix was right – it must’ve had a pendant on, because the chain was being pulled down by something heavy, and it was particularly noticeable when he leaned forwards.
“I’ve been watching him for a while now, playing the game, and something really isn’t right about him.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“For a start, I know that most players in this game quickly adopt their own techniques and have various preferences for things like style of play, etc. This guy, however, I can’t find a pattern to. Everything he seems to do is random.”

“Hey, what’s in that bottle he’s just drunk out of?” I pointed out. I managed to catch a glimpse of it before he carefully slipped it back into his jacket pocket.
“I’m not sure, but if you didn’t know he’d just put something in his pocket, you’d never guess there was anything there.” Phoenix had a point – the bottle was brilliantly disguised behind his jacket, as if he didn’t want people to know it was there at all.
“He’s a bit like that guy from Harry Potter,” I realised, “you know, some guy used a potion to make him look like the professor and kept occasionally taking a swig from it so that he wouldn’t let his disguise down. What’s his name?”
Phoenix thought for a moment. “Moody. Mad-eye Moody, isn’t it?” he said.
“Yeah, that’s him. He’s like that.”
“Hmm.”
Maybe it’s a performance booster, I considered, but didn’t say it out loud. Then I had a thought, and asked the bartender for a napkin. “Have you got a pen handy?” I asked Phoenix. He shook his head, but then tapped Andromeda on the shoulder. Through the noise, I couldn’t hear what Phoenix was saying, but I heard every word of Andromeda’s slurred replies.
“What? . . . A pen? Yeah sure, I think so . . .” he rummaged in his right jacket pocket, then, upon finding nothing, his left one. He produced a pen and handed it to Phoenix, who then put it down on the table. I uncapped it and hurriedly scribbled down a few characters on the napkin, making sure only Phoenix could see.
“Okay, what do these mean?” I asked, then, while Phoenix translated the words, I unfolded another napkin and drew a quick sketch of how I’d seen the bottle.
“They translate roughly as the letters C Y P, although the middle one is more of a Chinese sound, one that we don’t have in English. Y is pretty much the closest you can get.” Phoenix reported.
“Okay, well this is what I saw of the bottle before he stashed it away.”
“Hang on, there’s a bottle somewhere on the racks behind us that looks exactly like that – what was the bartender’s name?”
“Makoto,” I said, realising what Phoenix had in mind.
Phoenix called Makoto over, and explained the description of the bottle to him. “Do you have one that looks like this?” As it turned out, he did, and we examined the bottle and compared it to my drawing.
“Are you sure those were the symbols you saw?” Phoenix asked.

“Yes, absolutely, but there’s a stroke different from the middle character on his bottle.”
“I know – do you reckon his might be a fake? Has it been used multiple times?”
“I doubt it,” I reasoned, “I’m pretty sure I saw him opening it today.”
“That means it’s been made by someone else.” Phoenix then proceeded to beckon Makoto over again and, copying his actions, I leaned in to the table. “What can you tell us about that man?” Phoenix pressed. Makoto’s friendly face suddenly went very dark, and to my surprise, he started speaking in decent English.
“This man is very . . . odd. I not know what goes on outside of here, but he come here every week . . . he very good at this game he plays, he only play this game, no more. I hear he earn lots of money from it. It is very, how you English say . . . suspicious. Also, he always drink something, but never from here, he always bring it himself. Oh, and be careful on Thursday, okay?” His speech was now oddly fluent, compared with earlier.
“Okay, thank you very much Makoto,” Phoenix said, standing up.
“Ah, is all good, yes?” Makoto said, his friendliness back once again.
“Yes thank you,” I replied.
“Ah, anything to help my English friends,” he said, delighted at being able to assist us. “Hey, I see you again, yes?” he asked. Yeah, if the attack doesn’t amount to anything, I thought. Phoenix nodded. “Haha, okay, until next time my friends!” he smiled, and with that and a hand shake for each of us, he went back to his drinks. I looked around for Andromeda, but it seemed Phoenix had already found him; he was leaning against a wall on the other side of the bar, next to the casino area, talking away happily with another local. This time, I was relieved to see, he didn’t have a drink with him. Phoenix walked over to him, with me following in his wake, not wishing to get caught up in the rush.
“Andromeda,” Phoenix muttered, “we have to go now.”
“Aww, really?” Andromeda moaned, “but I’ve still got so many things to do here.”
“Yes I know, and I’d like to stay too, but we’ve really got more pressing issues to deal with.”
Andromeda sighed, but the man he was chatting to seemed to understand, and they said their goodbyes, before the man left, disappearing deep into the casino’s crowds.
“Umm, just to check, you’re not drunk, are you?” I asked Andromeda cautiously.
“No, no, no, of course not,” he assured me. I was skeptical.

“Anyway, let’s get going,” said Phoenix, and I started to head for the door. However, we hadn’t even got half way before Andromeda stopped in his sluggish tracks.
“Uhh, guys . . .” he started.
“What now?” I demanded, spinning round to face him. I too, then stopped, because heading our way was a tall, dark figure, and he looked like he really meant business. He looked like any other Japanese man might, except he was a fair bit taller and had sharp, all-seeing eyes. His sleek, black hair was tied back in a small ponytail, and he sported no facial hair. He had long, thin legs which ended in large feet, and on them were black shoes, not shiny, but not at all dusty, that made a very slight tapping noise when he walked on a hard floor. The man was dressed in a black suit with a dark burgundy shirt – quite the opposite, I realised, of the mysterious casino-beating local we’d seen a bit earlier. His brows furrowed, he beckoned us over to the corner of the room, a point where we wouldn’t be overheard by anyone. Andromeda and I stayed rooted to the spot, staring, but I felt a slight breeze as Phoenix walked past me. Well, if Phoenix thinks it’s okay, I may as well go too. Stiffly, I joined him, and Andromeda glanced around before following.
“Who are you?” Phoenix asked simply.
“That is not important right now,” said the stranger darkly. I noticed that although he may have looked like a local man, he spoke perfectly fluent English without a hint of an accent, unlike Makoto the bartender.
“What do you want from us?” Phoenix tried again.
“Nothing.”
“Why are you here, then?”
“I need you to know something about the attack,” he said cryptically.
“The attack? It’s definitely happening?” Phoenix pretty much already knew this, but still, it was a confirmation of our biggest fears.
“Take this,” the man said holding out a small grey card the size of a credit card, “you’ll need it. It is your key.”
“What do we use it for?” asked Andromeda, finally brave enough to step into the conversation.
“Questions, questions,” the man muttered, “do you want to stop the attacks? Just take the card.” I detected more than a tiny hint of frustration in his voice. Phoenix pocketed the card without further questions.

“If you look close enough, and think well enough, you’ll find all the answers to your questions. Everything is interconnected. All that you know so far, all that you have found out, is useful in your quest. I cannot tell you everything I want to, I am afraid.”
“Is there anything else we should do?” I tried, wondering where all of this was leading.
“Time is short, details are long, I have not the time to tell you more.”
“Wait, why?” pleaded Phoenix. I too shared the urge to know more.
“The pieces always fit together, provided you know what the final picture looks like. If you are stuck, don’t try harder, try differently. That is all.”
“Wait,” started Andromeda, “I don’t understand.”
“You will. Just keep looking.” And with that, the man, all six feet of him, slipped discreetly into the casino crowds, and completely vanished from sight.
“He’s gone.” said Andromeda plainly.
“Yeah. How can you lose a six foot tall, quiet, mystical local dressed all in black in a room with, let’s be honest, not that many people now?” I wondered. The room had indeed been emptying now that the night was getting on.
“Listen guys, I’ve got no idea who that guy was, what he was going on about, or how this-” he pulled the card out of his pocket and turned it over, “-can help us stop the attack.”
“Which,” I pointed out, “we now know will be on Thursday, which is-”
“The day after tomorrow.” finished Andromeda, now completely sober. “And it’s the evening.”
“Yeah, we are in a bit of a sticky situation right now,” said Phoenix, “but let’s not be defeatist. We haven’t lost yet.”
Too optimistic, I thought, I’m starting to think we might not be able to do anything to stop this one. Only time, and that funny little business card, will tell.

Part VII

I turned the card over and over, waiting for something to reveal itself to me, just like I had with the chocolate bar wrapper, just two days ago. It seemed like a lifetime. Only difference was, that had been much easier.
The card was the same size as other business cards, with rounded corners. It was a mid grey colour on the front, plain white on the back. The front was the only side with anything printed on it, and Phoenix had already translated the white writing – it read nothing more than ‘Creeping Sunrise Journeys – it’s written in the stars’.

The Creeping Sunrise Journeys company was a newly emerging Japanese corporation, which made its mark (although not a very big one) for its night-time only service – the idea being that one can go out in a boat or a small aircraft in the night on or over a lake, have a tour, and view the night sky until what they called ‘the Creeping Sunrise’, which is when the Sun’s light begins peeking across the horizon before the Sun itself is visible. On a cloudless, dry morning, it is a beautiful spectacle to behold.
“Do you suppose the guy works for them?” I tried optimistically, although already knowing the answer. No one bothered to answer.
We were sitting on the grass in the small equivalent of a garden at the back of our hotel, at the foot of a tree. It was about eleven o’clock. Darkness ruled, but the famous lights of the Tokyo skyline fought back.
Well, I say sitting, Andromeda and I were lying down, and Phoenix was leaning his back against the rough bark of the tree’s trunk. From the looks on his face, Andromeda seemed to have lost hope, because he’d already said he just wanted to go back to the casino and stay there until the attack killed him. I’d reminded him we didn’t yet know what form the attack would take, but Phoenix had piped up, saying that the agent who’d contacted us at the start of the mission had said the attack would be huge scale. I didn’t have anything to say to that.
“Well come on guys,” I continued, “the guy said this was our ‘key’, correct?” I didn’t wait for a response. “Which means it must unlock something.” Andromeda sat up on that remark, but I didn’t notice. “Phoenix, have you tried swiping it through something, you know, like a credit card reader or something like that?” I asked, but Phoenix shook his head.
“Hold on,” interrupted Andromeda, “what did you say just now?”
“What, swiping the card through a card reader?” I replied, not sure what he was on to.
“No, no, before that.” He didn’t take his eyes off the card in my hand.
“It’s a key, so it must unlock something.”
“That’s it!” Andromeda said sharply, “Pass the card.” I handed it to him, and he turned it over to the white side.
“I thought I saw something. Like a light,” he muttered.
“A light?” Phoenix said skeptically. “Why would a business card have a light in it? And how could it, for that matter, it’s as thin as a piece of paper.”

“Ah, but it isn’t,” smiled Andromeda, “did you notice when you put it in your pocket, how heavy it was?”
“Umm, not particularly, why?”
“Because it doesn’t really feel as light as a normal one,” he said.
“Seriously?” I said, “You can tell how heavy it is?”
“Well,” he replied, reaching into his jeans pocket, “compare these.” He gave me the grey card, and another card of the same size that he’d brought on the trip, for some reason.
I held one in each hand, and I could just feel a slight weight difference. I couldn’t believe Andromeda had been able to tell them apart, having only held one at a time.
“Now give me the cards back, I need to check something.” He went through a few detailed procedures comparing and squinting at them, while I stared up at the clouds. Phoenix had his phone out.
“Okay, that’s weird.” Andromeda murmured.
“What?” said Phoenix, not looking up from his phone.
“This card is actually thicker than a normal one,” he announced, too loudly in my opinion.
“Thicker? Really?” said Phoenix, his phone still out. I was, once again, with Phoenix on his opinion. How could Andromeda be sure on that? Despite this though, we went with it, like we’d always done before.
“Yeah, that must be how they’ve fitted in the lights, that I definitely did see. But what triggered it to come on?”
“No idea, but something someone did twice must’ve done it,” I pointed out.
“Yes! That’s it!” He exclaimed. “You said, did you not, ‘it’s a key, so it must unlock something’?”
“There it is again,” said Phoenix, pointing to the card – we had all noticed the light this time. “It’s voice activated, that’s why it’s thicker and heavier. Say the sentence again, but slowly, with a pause between each word, so we can see which one sets it off.” Andromeda did so.
“It’s . . . a . . . key . . . so . . . it . . . must . . . unlock–”
“There!” I pointed. “Wow, the word ‘unlock’-” (the light flashed again) “-unlocks the card!”
“Yes, but do the lights mean anything?” Phoenix pointed out.
“If you say it fast, the lights flash quickly, so try saying it slowly, and see if the lights flash slower.” I observed. Andromeda repeated the word ‘unlock’ much more slowly than before. The lights did indeed appear and disappear more slowly.
“Is it me, or does it spell something out?” Andromeda said.

“No, it definitely does,” answered Phoenix, his face suddenly crestfallen, “it says ‘password’. We need another word to get any further.”
“Oh, brilliant,” I said sarcastically, “and we have two languages to choose from.”
“Umm, if it helps, I’ve got a dictionary?” Andromeda tried pathetically, waving a small pocket dictionary in the air. I didn’t reply, and neither did Phoenix. I considered what on Earth it could be. Several silent minutes passed, with no further developments.
After a while, Phoenix gasped, and put his hand to his mouth – he was staring at his phone.
“What is it?” I asked, growing more tired by the minute.
“Listen to this,” he said, and started reading from what must have been a news article on his phone, “Bartender, 35, shot in casino.”
“No way,” I breathed, my head filling with dread.
“It might not be . . .” Andromeda started to say, but Phoenix held up a hand and continued to read.
“Bartender, 35, shot in Casino. This report just in from Tokyo city centre. One of the city’s most popular casinos suffered tonight a shocking blow – the bartender, 35-year-old Makoto Yarihana, was shot once in the shoulder by an unidentified assailant, who then fled the scene. Emergency services were quickly on the scene, and Yarihana is currently in a critical condition in hospital. The area has been barricaded off to the general public, and nearby services and residences have been evacuated. Police Sergeant Yamada, who was one of those first on the scene, said that the attack could very easily have been fatal, and that Yarihana was very lucky not to have died instantly. The area is on lockdown while the search for the attacker commences. It is believed that the attacker did intend to kill.”
An awful silence reigned, no one daring to say something out loud. It was so thick you could cut it with a knife. We were all thinking the same thing, though: he knew. And he told us too much.
“Do you think the guy in the white jacket had something to do with it?” asked Andromeda finally, shattering the silence. All the pieces fell to the floor, like they were from a thin sheet of glass.
“I’ve got no idea, and I don’t want to know yet,” said Phoenix, rubbing his eyes. Either he too was fed up of all this, or the time zone difference was getting to him. And I was pretty sure I knew which one of those it was.

< see next thread for more :) >

Ignore that see next thread for more, I missed a bit lol :)

Slowly, the silence crept back upon us, like the dawn that could be seen from the boats on the lake. An hour or two passed, with none of us speaking or even moving. We all just stayed there, trying to think what the password could be. Besides a couple of pointless tries, when the card flashed up in red saying: Denied, we didn’t get anywhere.
I couldn’t help feeling that we had the most important pieces, but we just couldn’t see how they fitted together. Possible combinations whirled round my mind, as if they were being blown about helplessly in a tornado, like the one at the start of The Wizard of Oz. Then something came back to me – what was it the man in the dark suit had said? If you are stuck, don’t try harder, try differently. So was I doing something wrong? Did I have the metaphorical pieces upside down? The wrong way round? More time passed, and still no developments.
“This is so annoying, not being able to figure it out,” I said, just for the hell of it.
“We’ll get it tomorrow, don’t worry.” Andromeda reassured.
“Mate,” said Phoenix, “It’s past midnight. We’re in Wednesday now.”
“We’ll get it today, don’t worry.”
“Hmm.” Phoenix sounded despondent, which was unusual for someone of his nature.
“Still, at least it’s a nice night for stargazing.” Andromeda pointed out. I sat bolt upright. “You know, now that the clouds have cleared and everything.” I couldn’t believe it. That was it! Once again, unbelievably, Andromeda had hit the nail bang on the head – and not just anywhere, right in the centre. I stared at him incredulously.
“What?” he asked.
“What was it you just said?” I said, just wanting the confirmation that I had indeed heard what I thought I had.
“Uh, just that it’s a nice night for stargazing,” he said, really not seeing what I was seeing.
“Yes, it’s not just any nice night, we just happened to be discussing it on the nicest night of the year. It’s the second of August, correct? Well, technically it’s the third now, but it’s the night of the second. And this is, or was, the night of the Tanabata festival.” I explained.
Phoenix’s mouth began to fall open, as it slowly dawned on him what I’d found. I grinned like a Chesire Cat who’d just caught an entire family of mice.

< see next thread for more :) >

“Tanabata,” I continued, “is the festival that takes place on only one night of the year – tonight – where if you look up to the stars, you can see the Milky Way. Now, in Japanese mythology, there are two stars, Altair and Vega, who symbolise two doomed lovers. Look, there they are, see?” I pointed them out to Phoenix and (the appropriately named, I now realised) Andromeda. Once they’d got them, I carried on. “The two doomed lovers, legend says, are forcefully separated by the Milky Way galaxy, but on one night of the year, the second of August, the Milky Way stops keeping them apart and they get the opportunity to embrace each other.”
“So, what does this have to do with the card?” Andromeda asked, still not there yet.
I took the card from him, and said “Unlock.” Password, it ordered. “Tanabata.” The lights on the card were green, and read: Accepted. This time, all three of us grinned, but we had to stop, because now things were flashing up on the screen. I, however, was already ahead – while I had been explaining to the others about the myth, my mind was working one step further.
“I know what’s going on here.” I declared proudly. In that moment of realisation, everything had fallen into place, and with a massive boom. “Think about it – he said everything we know, and everything we’ve found out, would be useful in our quest, or however he phrased it. And he was completely right.
“The writing on the chocolate bar wrapper was in Chinese. The bike advert – which I’m almost 100% sure was meant to be for the Triumph Tiger 900 copy – did contain false information, which was the main description. That said it was a Baotian Tiger 50, made by WangShi, and WangShi is better known by it’s nickname: the Stonecold company. That’s the name of their most famous bike. The different character on the white jacket guy’s bottle should’ve been the equivalent of an English Y, but it was actually a J. And no, I’m not sure why that was, but it doesn’t matter.”
“Sorry, what’s the significance of all this?” asked a bemused Andromeda.
“Chinese. Stonecold. J instead of Y. C S J. Does that mean anything to you?” I said slowly. I noticed Phoenix, who by now was certain to have worked it out, remained silent. “C S J . . . well, that stands for Creeping Sunrise Journeys,” he said. His voice trailed off, and he waited for me to carry on.

“It does, and that’s a good point, which I’ll come to later, but it also stands for . . .”
Then the pin dropped for Andromeda. “Ch?tái Shàonán Jiànj? – the Dragonsbreath Alliance.” he finished.
“Yep, it’s them,” said Phoenix, “the organisation based in Shanghai, China, that the agent on the phone told us about. They are the ‘Creeping Sunrise’. Makes sense, because we haven’t really had any trouble from them for a while now.”
Andromeda stared at us in awe.
“And now,” I said finally, “we can get whatever piece of information we want from this single card, because we’ve got the password – and it was written in the stars.”

Part VIII

A week into our trip – and still a week to go. What a long time it had felt – in just four days, we had gone from a reasonably average holiday to Tokyo (at exactly the right time, I might point out), to a mysterious phone call leading us to an urgent mission that, if failed, would scar Tokyo for the rest of its days. We had experienced deserted tube stations with secrets that only the most observant of food lovers could spot, a mixed up motorcycle advert containing false details, but a key clue, a strangely kind group that had given us a room in which we could discuss things without being overheard by anyone, a casino regular with more than an ace up his sleeve, and a figure dressed all in black that had given us the most important clue of all – and then vanished into thin air. We are agents, but even this is a little out of the ordinary.
We’d checked out all the information we could think of as being relevant, and written it down on a piece of paper with a pen. It was, after all, the most secure way of keeping information – phones could be hacked, and pure memory wasn’t always too reliable. Phoenix had the paper in his jeans pocket right now.
Only problem was, none of us could see anything we, three British undercover agents, could do to stop an attack in the world’s biggest city. It seemed impossible.
At present though, we were taking a little break. We all needed it. Steering well clear of the casino just in case, we were in a small café near the hotel where we were staying. Phoenix was sipping at a cool milky coffee, while Andromeda was stirring his tea, and still deciding whether it needed a third sugar or not. I had a coffee, but I’d left half of it in the cup, because I wasn’t that thirsty.

Or hungry, as I’d found out when Andromeda tried to offer me some biscuits; I’d refused. I could tell Phoenix was still puzling over what to do about the card, which accompanied the notes in his pocket. I stared past the window stickers, and out into the depths of the world’s most populated city.
So many people. That’s the first thought that comes to you when you’re in Tokyo – even when you think about it. So many people. The thought that I wouldn’t be able to help a lot of them nagged at my brain, but I pushed it back. Besides, I didn’t know that I – we – couldn’t stop the attack from taking place for certain.
Only time will tell. Unfortunately, that was the only conclusion I’d managed to reach from my confuddled thoughts. And not much time, at that.
A day. Most likely less than a day.
T-minus 24 hours.
Something, I reasoned with myself, something has to happen. It always has done, as I’ve already proved on this trip. But what will it be this time?
However, my train of thought was then interrupted and brought to a grinding halt. This was because I had spotted something out of the café window that was quite possibly the last thing I’d expected to see the day before one of the most dramatic events in either the history of Tokyo, or us, took place.
There he was, just walking casually down the street. Wearing the same suit as when we’d last seen him, but with a pale blue and white striped shirt, was the 6 foot tall man who had stopped us in the casino, spoken in perfect English, given us the card, and then melted into the crowd like a needle in a haystack. It was definitely him. But why was he here, of all places? Maybe he knew we were here, and is giving us a sign, I considered. It was a bit of a long shot, but then, what hadn’t been on this ‘holiday’?
“Excuse me guys,” I muttered, as I stood up to go. Phoenix nodded without question.
“Where you going?” asked Andromeda.
“Just gotta check something out,” I replied, not mentioning anything about what I’d just seen. “If I’m gone for longer than a minute, come find me, I don’t want to risk anything.” And with that, I pushed the door of the café open and walked out into the fresh breeze.
Luckily, I managed to catch a glimpse of the man before he turned into the park. I tried not to run as I followed him, although it was difficult, because I had to go pretty fast without arousing suspicion in order just to keep up with him and his massive strides.

It wasn’t working, so I resorted to jogging, attempting to look like a regular runner going about their business. The park would be a good cover up.
Standing by the fence, I had a horrible moment when I thought I’d lost sight of him, but then I spotted him just behind the fountain, and continued on his trail.
I followed the mystical figure for another few streets, until he turned down a small alleyway. Taking my chances, and knowing that by now Phoenix and Andromeda would be out looking for me, I peered around the corner into the alley, which was engulfed by darkness and shadows even in the middle of the morning.
It was unbelievably dusty, and packed with boxes and dustbins and all manner of things that people had just dumped out here. Then I heard something I had completely forgotten about since I had last encountered it, four days previously. The dark, beating throb of a turbocharged V8 engine. No way. It can’t be.
But yes, it was. Because what I was seeing now was the one thing that had escaped me for the whole of this mission. The man who’d saved us, was sitting in the driver’s seat of the very car that had sparked the thought that something was wrong in the first place.
The mysterious figure, still seemingly unaware of me, rolled up his illegally tinted window, and gave the engine another burst. The engine of a black, partly carbon fibre, paper-thin tyred, gold hubcapped, Mitsubishi Evolution VIII, with its spoiler rising up from the back of the car, and copied, fake Florida plates, reading 3W7-3490. Smoke poured from the exhausts, and as I fought the urge to cough, the epic V8 soundtrack once again filled my ears, and the car slowly began to move away from me, down the alleyway.
As early as I dared, I followed it until it turned out onto a main street, the same one, in fact, which I’d seen it on before. I couldn’t help feeling, however, this wasn’t the last I’d see of it either. I ran to the end of the alley, staring out into the bustling heart of Tokyo, but once again, the man had evaded me, because although I could still hear the beast of an engine through the noise of the city, I could no longer see the car that had it caged under the bonnet.
The man, and his Evo VIII, were gone.

< The end :) >

PLEASE READ THIS AFTER YOU HAVE FINISHED THE STORY.

< This is like an acknowledgements page! :) >
This story took at least three weeks to make from scratch, and I spent a lot of evenings researching the most minute details, because I like to make sure everything is as perfect as it can be. I'm really, really pleased with the final result, and yes, Tanabata is a real festival. Creeping Sunrise Journeys/Dragnsbreath Alliance, as far as I know, are not real. I'm not sure how many of the setting descriptions were accurate in real life, but who cares, I was imagining it how I thought it should look.
If you did take the time to read it all, then thank you very, very much. The journey of my first full length story was a great one. :)
- TigerLegend1046

And if you were wondering, I did make two other accounts so that the comments would appear in the right order, then deleted them :)

Written in the Stars
By TigerLegend1046

Part I

There was no denying that the car looked suspicious in itself. It did, easily.
Coming towards me on the other side of the busy high street was a jet black, badgeless Mitsubishi Evolution VIII with a tall, thin spoiler at the back jutting up like a telegraph pole, and unbelievably lowered suspension, which hid a lot of the top of the tyres. Not that there was much tyre to hide – each one looked about as thin as a sheet of paper, and probably gave just as much grip. The hub caps were the same black as the bodywork, although the paint looked slightly older and was giving way to some gold paint underneath, and in the centre of the bonnet sat a carbon fibre scoop, flaring up like an enraged rhinoceros. A series of explosive blasts erupted from the exhausts at the rear as the driver, who sat behind illegally tinted windows, pushed the car to the limitor. Through the noise of the bustling city, I could make out what I thought was a turbocharged V8 engine. It appeared to be a left-hand drive car, which was odd considering I was in Tokyo, the most populous city in the world, where the majority of cars, like the taxi I was sitting in the back of now, were right-hand drives. I also picked up on the fact that the passenger side door, although black like the rest of the car, didn’t really have the same sort of glittery glint that the rest of the bodywork did. Must’ve been replaced recently.
However, none of this was what caught my eye in particular. It was actually the number plate that weirded me out – because I’d seen it before.
On a previous mission in Florida, a pale blue Ford Thunderbird in a driveway had stood out to me, for no particular reason, just that I liked classic cars. It wore a 1964 registration plate reading: 3W-73490. For some reason that had stuck in my mind. I knew for a fact that the Thunderbird still existed and still had that plate on. However, the Evo also wore an old Florida plate, 1991, it said, and the characters displayed were: 3W7-3490.
That should not exist. If a number plate already existed, the car makers wouldn’t produce a car with the same characters, and only the dash in a different place. This didn’t look like a ’91 style formatted plate, either.

I knew straight away this had to mean something, and for that reason I was especially glad that right now the driver of the taxi was taking me to my associates, Phoenix and Andromeda, who were almost certainly waiting for me right now at our pre-arranged rendezvous point.

Part II

Eager to report my observations to my also off-duty colleagues, I quickly thanked the driver in Japanese, paid him and got out of the cab, scanning the area for Phoenix and Andromeda. Like they’d said, they were sitting on a park bench just in front of a row of trees. I jogged over to meet them.
“Hey guys, how’s it going?” I said as Phoenix stood up to give me a quick, informal handshake.
“Yeah, not bad,” replied Andromeda, “but we’ve got something you might be interested in,” he added sombrely.
Phoenix nodded. “About half an hour ago, I got a call from one of the team back at HQ. He sounded quite worried so I asked him if anything was wrong. Then he asked me to record the rest of the call.”
“So we did, and I’ve got it here,” finished Andromeda, and he pulled out his phone. After scrolling through the data, he turned the volume up loud enough so that it was clear to us, but not anyone else. Just before he clicked play, I glanced at the screen and noticed the duration – 19 seconds. Then the recording began.
“Done.” – it was Andromeda’s voice first, then the agent at HQ started talking. I wasn’t sure, but I thought I’d heard his voice before. “Okay, so we’ve got intel that an organisation based in China is plotting a huge scale attack on Tokyo. Not sure how, but it’s going to be very soon. Agent Z1 says he knows you’re off duty, but it would definitely pay for you three to have a look around and see what you can find. This is seriously big, we need all the help we can get.”
“What’s the name of the organisation?” asked Phoenix hurriedly.
“We think it’s-” the agent stopped abruptly as there was a loud crashing sound and a couple of bangs on his end of the line. Angry voices in the background called various things out, but I couldn’t make out what they said. “Sorry, gotta run-” the agent began, but again was cut off by a crackling noise and a bang. It was followed by a long, mournful beep. The line had gone dead. Then the recording finished.

I sat there in silence for a painfully long while, taking in what I’d just heard. I’d presumed the agent was at our headquarters, but there was no way that something like that would happen there. No way.
Before I could think about it any more, Andromeda broke the silence. “So, what do you suggest we do?” he asked simply. I let out a heavy breath.
“I’ve tried contacting him again, but it goes straight to voicemail,” said Phoenix. “Crazy as it sounds, I can’t get through to HQ either.”
“Power cut?” I suggested optimistically. No one said anything. I tried again. “He said very soon, didn’t he? How about we just go check it out around here, see what’s what?”
“Well, we can try. After, all, Z1 seems to think this is a job worth doing, so it may as well be us, as we’re here.” pointed out Andromeda.
“Alright,” conceded Phoenix, “let’s start at the train station.”
And in all the discussion, I completely forgot about the Evo VIII.

Part III

The screeching noise of the underground train shooting past snapped me out of my daydream.
I was sitting on a cold metal bench with no back, leaning against a bin, staring at the wall on the other side of the tunnel. At least, I was, until the 5 carriage long train blocked my view for a few moments. Last one of the night, probably. I glanced at my watch. 02:15:03. Bang on time, as usual. I looked around.
Phoenix was leaning against a brick wall which had been painted white. Probably about 30 years ago, because the paint was dirty and flaking away from the wall, revealing the rough red bricks behind it. He was scrolling through his phone, although secrectly I knew he was looking around the station for anything at all that could be out of order. I couldn’t see Andromeda.
As the train passed, without stopping, the station once again became quiet. Damn this, I thought, and got up and wandered slowly around. As I did so, I heard footsteps coming somewhere from my right, getting a bit louder with every one. I whipped round, but in a way that hopefully disguised my alarm.
I was face to face with a wall.
I stayed rooted to the spot for a solid ten seconds, as the footsteps continued. Then the sound began to come from further left, so I followed the wall. Phoenix didn’t seem to notice. I carried on. As I leaned closer to the wall, the footsteps got quieter, then stopped altogether. I waited, my anxious breathing seemingly loud enough to wake the dead.

I was about to back away and tell myself it was nothing, when I was interrupted by a bustling far to my right. My eyes followed the wall down to a blue door, but the rest of me didn’t move. Frozen to the spot once again, I watched silently, waiting for whatever was going to happen, to happen.
Then the door flew open, and I tensed.
But it was only Andromeda, who had been in the toilet. I felt like an idiot for being so naïve, but it didn’t matter, because I’d noticed something. When the door ‘flew’ open, I noticed that at the top of the frame was a mechanism designed to make sure the door opened and closed slowly and didn’t slam. So why had it opened so quickly when Andromeda had come out of it? I wasn’t sure, and by the looks of it, neither was Andromeda, who was also staring up at the door.
Clearly he didn’t think it was too important, because he promptly ignored it and came over to me, holding something in his hand. I sighed when I saw what it was.
“Hey, guess what?” he said excitedly.
“What?” I sighed, knowing exactly where this conversation was going.
“Tokyo is the best place in the world! Why? Because they have vending machines in the public toilets!”
I pinched the brige of my nose, but if Andromeda noticed it, he didn’t say anything about it. “Trust you to find out something like that. Anywhere we go, the food is all you’re interested in, I swear.”
“What? No, it’s not the chocolate bar, it’s the wrapper. Look.” He brought the chocolate up closer to me, so I could start analysing it in my mind. The details zoomed past. Gold wrapper with red writing on the logo, similar to Twix. Majority of text is dark grey, standard Japanese characters, nothing wrong there. Table of nutrients and ingredients, nothing amiss here either. Both ends held together in the standard fashion, looks simple to open, no extra information which isn’t needed. I couldn’t really see anything wrong.
“What is it?” I asked, unsure of the significance of a single chocolate bar.
“Come on, Omega, tell me what you can see,” Andromeda enouraged. I glanced around to where Phoenix was standing. He was still there with his phone out, but his eyes were up, looking at the two of us. He looked mildly amused. As I held his gaze, he raised an eyebrow expectantly. I turned back to Andromeda.

I sighed again. “Okay,” I said, “well, the format and colour scheme is the same as a Twix bar, dark grey standard characters make up the majority of the rest of the writing, I can see a nutrients table, umm . . .” my voice trailed off, as I scanned the packaging, waiting for whatever it was Andromeda was so hyped up about to show itself to me. Finally, after what seemed like an age, something caught my eye.
It was very well hidden. I mean, very well hidden. Thinking back to earlier, I remembered that Andromeda had seemed to disappear for a while – he must have been in the toilets figuring it out for himself. Of course, as with anything, now you’ve seen it, it’s so blindingly obvious you think, how can I have missed this in the first place?
Whoever had made this was a definite perfectionist, with an unbelievable attention to detail. Everything looked exactly as it would otherwise. Except for one small detail. Well, two.
By this time, Phoenix had joined us in examining the packet. Andromeda pointed out what he had found, and Phoenix, seemingly not bothered, hummed and went back to his phone. But I knew him well enough to know that he had seen something in this as well, and was actually looking into it on his phone. While he did this, I considered what I could see. A simple addition that popped up on almost all chocolate bar wrappers anywhere in the world – the contact details: The website link, and the telephone number.
With the phone number, because we were in Tokyo, in Japan, the number would start with 03, then eight more digits. However, this number had the eight numbers, then 03 at the end – it must have been a miscommunication from whoever asked for it to whoever actually did it. Clearly, at least the person who made it was a foreigner, or they would know otherwise. Then there was the web link.
A single line of text beneath the phone number, that was all it was. But I couldn’t read it. I didn’t recognise any of the characters.
“Um, Phoenix?” I called out without turning round, although because it was an empty train station late at night it sounded a lot louder than I would have liked. Phoenix didn’t need any more encouragement – he came straight over. It almost seemed like he was on his way even before I called to him.
“Found something?” he asked, casually.

“Do you recognise these?” I glanced at Andromeda, who was looking expectantly at Phoenix, like a dog gazing at its owner knowing that it’s nearly its dinner time. He clearly didn’t recognise them either, from the way he’d asked me.
“Yeah, of course,” Phoenix replied confidently, almost amused. “I’m surprised you don’t. They’re Chinese.”
Inside, I kicked myself. How had I not seen that? It was so obvious. Chinese characters are traditionally more complex and require more strokes, as they’re called. Whereas Japanese characters (to an oblivious foreigner) might look like stick figures doing yoga, skiing or just a couple of curved lines on top of one another, Chinese characters appeared to be more like radiator grills, picnic tables and some exotic plants being rained on. And that was only the simple part. “It’s a standard, English style web link, but printed in Chinese, not Japanese.” Phoenix did speak some Mandarin, after all.
“Hang on,” interrupted Andromeda, a genuine seriousness in his voice, “the agent we spoke to on the phone did say that the organisation was based in China. I know it sounds crazy, but . . .” his voice trailed off, but it didn’t matter because both Phoenix and 1 knew what he wanted to say. But, do you think it could be them behind it?
“Yes.” I whispered under my breath. I hoped the others hadn’t heard, but I’m pretty sure my hopes were a bit too high, considering we were the only people around in an underground railway station, and we were all crowded round a chocolate bar. Despite this though, Andromeda didn’t seem to have noticed when I glanced up quickly at him, before moving my worried gaze to Phoenix. He was already looking at me.
He held my gaze for only a few moments, but in that time I managed to pick up on his calm, yet very mournful smile. For what I think was the first time ever, I could see past his strong, fiery green eyes, and into the void. A deep, yet full place enclosed within the body of the man I called Phoenix, with the only hint of a gateway being his eyes.
For those brief moments, I saw what he saw. Something really is going on here, it’s not an idle threat. There must be something we can do to help. There has to be. I don’t know how this one’s going to end.
Then he looked away. I could tell he thought he had let too much of himself out to me, and regretted being so open. I didn’t blame him; he was an undercover agent, after all.

I wasn’t sure if it was the light, but I think his cheeks might have turned slightly red. He was embarrassed.
And I must admit, in those few moments of realisation, I felt I understood Phoenix more. I pitied him. I felt everything about him, his personality, his behaviour, finally made some sort of sense.
For the first time, I felt closer to him.

Part IV

Admittedly, we weren’t that efficient with our use of time that morning at the tube station, but we had discovered two things: a) that the telephone number on the packaging of a not that well-known company that makes chocolate bars was put on there by a foreigner who didn’t completely understand the telephone numbering system in Japan (or at least Tokyo), and b) that the website link, translated roughly into English, was written in Chinese, and ended in .ch (for China) not .jp (for Japan). Furthermore, Andromeda had checked on his phone afterwards, and the .ch page didn’t exist, whereas if you changed it to .jp then it did exist.
However, now we had a bigger problem. Well, I say a problem, it was more of a development.
We had been at the station for about half an hour from 2:15 to 2:45. This space of time was just at the start of the one and a half hour gap when no trains go past the station, so there were no people milling around there. Hence why we’d chosen it. Now though, we were on the second train of the morning. The first had also passed by the station, but hadn’t stopped. Evidently no one had needed to get off, and there was no one wanting to get on either, because the station was still empty apart from the three of us.
Phoenix, Andromeda and I were sitting in the third of five carriages, me on one side, the other two on the other. This time it was Andromeda who was on his phone. Phoenix appeared to be making some kind of mental calculation, because his eyes were pointed upwards into his head. Nothing unusual there, then.
My eyes wandered around the carriage, exploring the surroundings which I would be in for another four and a half minutes. Of course, of this I was certain, because as anyone living in or visiting Japan will know or have discovered by now that Japanese public transport, particularly trains, are hardly ever late, and even then it’s only a few seconds off course. Credit where it is due, the Japanese do run on a tight schedule.
We were accompanied by only one other passenger in the whole carriage.

Not that there usually is much talking or noise on Japanese public transport, but this did mean we would have to be very obscure with any converstion we made. Then I looked more closely and realised that my last observation didn’t matter a bit, because the local man appeared to be asleep. And even if he was awake, he probably wouldn’t have acknowledged us much anyway, because he had earphones in.
Satisfied that we were pretty much safe to discuss the events of the last 24 hours, my eyes tiredly drifted back to my colleagues, without having to move my head. In my defence, I had been up most of the night.
Andromeda was still engrossed in his phone (I thought), but Phoenix was now staring at something that appeared to be above my head, and making stroke-like movements in the air with his right hand. He was deep in thought.
Following his eyes, I looked up to find nothing but a grey ceiling and the joint connecting it to the bar beside me, the one that people use to hold on to if there are no seats left.
Fixing my gaze once again on Phoenix, I mentally decided he must be trying to work out something in his head that he’d seen somewhere before. Still, I was curious. “Umm, Phoenix?” I asked tentatively, being careful about the volume of my voice. He remained silent, and carried on doing exactly what he was already doing, which I took as my cue to shut up and leave him to it. So I did, knowing that Phoenix was, mentally at least, the strongest of us three, and that when he was involved in anything of a needing-to-be-worked-out nature, interruptions were the last thing the agent needed.
Not too long later, he rubbed his eyes, sighed, and said “Yes, Omega, you wanted me?”
I didn’t want to offend him too much, so I chose my words carefully. “Err, yeah, what were you looking at just then?”
“Oh, just the advert behind you. I thought something looked a bit odd. Check it out.”
I swivelled round in my seat to get a look at what Phoenix was talking about. Just below the diagonally angled part of the ceiling was an advert for a motorbike. The writing beside it was in Japanese. Yes, all of it, I was sure of it this time.
“What’s odd about a motorbike?” I asked, trying not to sound too doubtful.
“Look closely, and you’ll see it.” he said cryptically.
I searched the advert for any signs of something being off, then when I found nothing, I searched the image itself. And I must admit it was actually quite weird.

What Phoenix had spotted was that the motorbike was almost a carbon copy of an old Triumph Tiger 900 motorbike that used to be a relatively common sight back in Britain. But the company who’d made it had changed a few crucial things. That wasn’t what was weird, it was a given thing around here. However, the writing beside it labelled it as a Baotian Tiger 50. Well, one word was correct. And on top of this the details below applied to neither of the afore mentioned motorbikes. I wasn’t sure exactly what they applied to.
“So what do you think?” Phoenix asked quietly. By this time, it appeared Andromeda had seen the ad as well, and was considering what all of this could possibly mean. Andromeda may be the food expert and master on all things culture and language related, and Phoenix the man of the real world, but all kinds of vehicles and history was where I really came alive.
“Okay,” I began, “if the bike in the picture is the one to go by, the one that looks like a Triumph Tiger, we’re looking at the brand Kirikama HaoLi, which is a sub-brand of the Kurisu group. They’re based in Hong Kong, and make bikes, scooters and, I think, a few lawnmowers. Particularly known for their against-the-grain style engineering and financial risk-taking, like with this bike.
“The description, on the other hand, indicates that this would almost certainly be a Baotian Tiger 50 bike, which is a fair bit different. It used to be made by Baotian, but they gave it up when it didn’t work brilliantly, so now it’s made by WangShi, which is a very small and financially depleted firm based in Kyoto, I think, and it’s actually owned by a Russian company who bought it about thirty years ago to save it from complete bankruptcy. Which hasn’t really worked.
“And as for the rest of the details, I have to honestly say I’ve got no idea. It looks like a mixture of some other things, like the person who made it just plucked random figures out of thin air, or whatever they could get their hands on.” Phoenix considered this.
Then Andromeda piped up. “Does it say who made the advert?”
I stood up and turned around to face the picture stuck onto the wall of the train. Almost all adverts anywhere in the world had a line or two of small print at the very bottom about Terms and Conditions or whatever. I say almost, because this one didn’t.
“Nothing.” I sighed, defeated.

“S’alright,” Andromeda said, “We’ve got to get off now, anyway. We’ll have to pick this up later.”
Even as he said it, I could feel the train slowing, and I pressed my face against the already steamed up window to get a look out. My field of view outside of the glass wasn’t massive at all, but I could just make out a pinprick of light that was growing in size – the end of the tunnel.

Part V

“How long is very soon?” I demanded impatiently. In my defence, we had spent the last day and a half investigating into anything we could, and we hadn’t really come up with anything. I was bored as hell.
“Are you still trying to decode the agent’s message?” shot back Andromeda, who was clearly also getting fed up with it all.
“Well what do you suggest we do?” I challenged.
“I don’t know, we can’t exactly just walk up to the people with the bomb and say ‘Oh no sorry, you can’t do that, or we’ll have to write you a strongly-worded letter of disapproval,’ can we?”
“Do you have a legitimate problem with me asking a simple question that may determine how long it is before we, along with all the other 37 million people in Tokyo get blown to pieces by, let’s be honest, terrorists?” This was really getting on my nerves now.
Andromeda opened his mouth to retaliate, but Phoenix cut in. “Oh for God’s sake you two, will you please shut up!”
“Oh come on, it’s my turn to throw an insult,” moaned Andromeda sarcastically. Phoenix ignored him.
“I just can’t comprehend why you think it’s a good idea to have an argument at this time.” He sounded like a primary school teacher telling off two kids that had just got into a fistfight. Andromeda looked away. I could tell he felt slightly embarrassed, and I understood that, because so did I. No one had asked Phoenix to do this, but he was still doing it.
“Seriously,” he continued, “we don’t have time for this. In answer to your original question Omega,” he turned to face me now, “I’m not sure exactly how long the agent meant, but it can’t be more than a couple of days from now. Which means, we have to get a move on. We haven’t let agent Z1 down yet, and I don’t intend to now. If either of you have a problem with that, then–”
“Yeah, yeah,” interrupted Andromeda, “okay, sure, whatever, I’m sorry, just don’t make a big deal out of it. Now let’s get this over with.”

Phoenix looked at me. “Mmm, ditto that,” I mumbled. I still hadn’t entirely forgiven Andromeda, but Phoenix was right – we needed to move on.
The three of us were sitting in a small, dark room at the back of an obscured building. It was bare and unfurnished, there were no windows, just a single light bulb hanging from (roughly) the centre of the ceiling producing a fairly dim glow which struggled to fill up the room. I didn’t particularly see the point of it, but there wasn’t any other form of light to use, so this was the best we had. There was a sofa on one side of the room, and Andromeda was slumped on it. I would’ve sat down on it as well, but the cover was ripped in more places than there were people in the whole of China, and it looked like a dog or some sort of animal had got to it, judging by the state of the material underneath. On top of this, it appeared that the spring had broken on the right side, because it sagged underneath like a plastic bag full of water. Andromeda was sitting – well, lying was more like it – on the left hand side, although I wasn’t sure there was a spring that side at all. The 900 year old piece of furniture certainly hadn’t made a squeaking, creaking, or groaning noise when he had sat down, or any noise that bore any kind of resemblance to a spring whatsoever. This was, in the least, rather worrying.
Phoenix and I were seated on two of the three antique chairs in the room, all of which surrounded a small circular table that looked like it belonged in an old English pub. It was made from dark wood, with classic curved legs that had so many scratches on and chunks out of, it looked like it had been chewed on by a lion. Then a tiger. Then a cheetah. And at least two cats. Hence why neither Phoenix nor I was leaning on it.
I thought that there must have been wallpaper on the walls at some point, because there was what looked like remnants of some sort of glue-like substance, and a few ragged pieces of material still hanging on to the wall, ripped at the edges. If there had been wallpaper, it was probably here before the Industrial Revolution, and it had come off so long ago that the single coat of paint underneath, which was supposed to be a pale blue but was actually a dirty sludge colour, was already cracked and peeling away at the edges, revealing the ugly red bricks behind it.

< see next thread for more :) >