The bar wasn’t much, a little hole in the wall located near the London dockyards. It was the kind of place that dockhands fled to after a hard day’s labour or where sailors sought subpar comfort after a long voyage.
The only requirement that Abe had was that they served a whisky he liked and their definition of an ounce was quite liberal.
As he entered, he could feel a few eyes linger upon him. He might’ve dressed like the English but he very much knew that he was not English, nor would he ever manage to fool anyone into thinking such a thing.
Thankfully, this was also the kind of establishment where people didn’t ask questions or at least didn’t say them out loud.
After all, The British Empire held dominion over vast chunks of the globe and it wasn’t unheard of for someone from the orient to take up residence in London. What was unheard of, however, was that individual staying for more than two decades.
“Hey Abe!” the bartender beamed.
He pronounced Abe’s name like that of the American President who had reigned when he first arrived on this isle. Though Abe had long ago given up on the idea that he could ever educate this man on the proper pronunciation.
So, for now, he was Abe, named after a descendant of Noah, and not Abe, a son of Japan.
“Hello Johnny,” Abe replied, taking a seat at the bar. “I’ll take the usual.”
The usual turned out to be a small tin cup that was filled with a couple shots of whiskey, a little bit of water, and a splash of something he still didn’t quite know. But it gave the drink a slightly citrusy taste. A simple cocktail and one that he enjoyed.
“So how have you been?” Johnny asked.
Abe picked up his cup and took a sip. “As okay as I always am.”
Johnny whistled. “That bad, eh?”
The two men shared a silent smile and Johnny slipped away to attend to the next of his patrons.
As he drifted away, Abe pulled out a small notebook, flipping it open and looking through the text.
When he reached the bottom of a page, partially filled with a non-Latin script, he produced a piece of coal and jotted down a couple additional characters. They symbolized that he’d taken another job that had fallen through, a client who had bailed on payment.
Maybe it was his age or maybe the English were just getting less reliable but he swore that a lot more jobs ended in a lack of payment nowadays.
He grunted and closed the book, taking another sip of Johnny’s elixir. At least, he had the money for booze and maybe a warm meal if he decided to keep things to two drinks tonight. Though knowing his track record, he highly doubted that this would be the case.
Johnny returned. “So, any luck at the consulate?”
Abe cocked a brow but then shook his head. “Put in another request for a pardon with the ambassador. I can only hope that the Imperial Court will accept it this time.”
“One of these days they will,” Johnny said.
Though even he didn’t sound like he believed that lie any more.
After all, when somebody had been coming to the same bar for five years straight, it became pretty obvious that things weren’t moving in the most productive direction.
“I thought they were signing pardons left, right, and centre?” Johnny asked.
Abe shrugged. “They just haven’t signed mine yet.”
“Did you do something really bad?” Johnny cocked a brow. “Because no offense Abe but…”
Abe shook his head. “You play poker, Johnny.”
“I’ve been known to play a couple of hands every once in a while,” Johnny teased.
“Well…” Abe looked at him. “I played a hand and lost. Turned out Japan didn’t want a Shogun anymore and I was backing the wrong horse.”
“This is why I have no use for politics,” Johnny murmured. “If you get involved with the wrong side then you’re only going to end up losing everything that’s important to you.”
“You know what?” Abe snorted and offered him a weak smile. “I can drink to that.”
He lifted his mug and tilted it back, downing the cocktail in a few potent pulls. He then clapped it down upon the table.
Johnny picked up on the hint easily enough and made him another. This was a service which was repaid with a dull looking coin, one of the last in Abe’s purse.
“Have you heard of any work?” Abe asked.
Johnny shrugged. “Bits and pieces, mostly from people looking for dockhands or fodder to feed into the mills. If you’re looking for a more…” He motioned with his hand. “A more specialized kind of employment than that might be a little tougher.”
“I don’t think I’d last very long in a cotton mill,” Abe said.
Johnny nodded. “No one lasts very long in a cotton mill, Abe. That’s why they’re always looking for people to work in them.”
“Then I think I’d like to take my chances with my sword,” Abe retorted.
He glanced at his side, seeing the scabbard that hung from his hip. It was ornate, covered in all sorts of interesting designs that had been worn down over years of use. It was still a beautiful piece of craftsmanship but a piece that was weathered, much like himself.
“Well, I heard that Carl is back in town,” Johnny said.
Abe snorted. “Is that really the best you’ve got for me? I’m okay with danger but that man has an affinity for suicidal decisions.”
“I’m just saying his cheques never bounce,” Johnny commented.
“I’ll consider it,” Abe grunted. “Where is he staying this time?”
Johnny hummed. “Can’t remember. He left me his card though.”
He went over to a lockbox, situated on the backbar, and unlocked it, fishing around inside. After a couple moments, he made a satisfied noise and returned with a small card, offering it to Abe.
Abe took it, running a finger across the material. “Still pays for the good stuff.”
“I would too. if I was making that kind of money,” Johnny retorted. “His address should be on the back.”
Abe flipped the card over and hummed. “He’s slumming it this time around.”
“Well, you didn’t hear it from me… but last I heard, he was going after the gentleman who keeps ending up on the front page.” Johnny chuckled. “Not really a job you can do without getting at least a little bit dirty.”
“I suppose,” Abe said.
He cocked a brow, wondering what Carl could possibly want with a job like that. But if there was one thing he remembered about Mister Le Blanc, it was that he wasn’t someone who made the most rational decisions.
When Abe had the address memorized, he offered the card back to Johnny who took it and returned it to the lockbox.
This left Abe alone with his drink. Since it was his second, he nursed it slowly, not wanting to finish things too quickly. After all, he had an afternoon to kill and not a whole lot of money to kill it with.
Or he thought he had an afternoon to kill.
The door to the bar opened and Abe glanced towards it.
Three men entered, each as burly as the last. They were the kind who had bad day written all over them. Which wasn’t great considering that Abe recognized them.
“Gentleman,” he greeted.
“Abe,” the one in the centre answered.
Abe picked up his drink and downed it in one fluid motion. “Suppose there’s something that I can do for you?”
“We’re representatives of a Mister McLoughlin,” the same brute said. He seemed to be the one doing the actual talking today.
Abe smirked. “And how is he doing?”
“All things considered pretty well.” The brute smiled. “Just a little miffed that one of his investments turned sour.”
Abe nodded and stood up from the bar, turning to face these men.
“I’m terribly sorry to hear that, he is a dear friend of mine.” He sighed. “Though I suppose he holds me responsible for the recent misfortune with said investment.”
The left brute nodded. “Ay.”
“Perhaps we could talk about this outside,” Abe offered. “Johnny here is an honest sort and I really don’t want to cause too much of a distraction for his patrons.”
All eyes in the bar were between him and the brutes. He tried not to show it but he allowed himself a thin smile. Even after all these years, he couldn’t help but enjoy getting attention.
He surveyed the brutes.
They were bulky and tall, easily towering over him in terms of height and strength. Still, they were Englishmen, taught to fight with fists and crude instruments. Weapons that stood little chance against his katana. It was a game in Abe’s head, wondering what was the best course of action to take.
“Thanks Abe!” Johnny beamed.
Abe grinned. “No problem, just make sure to buy me a drink next time I’m in these parts, okay?”
“Fuck, I’ll buy you a whole bottle,” Johnny joked.
Abe highly doubted that but he still nodded his thanks.
He pushed past the brutes and out of the bar, into the streets of London. Once outside, he surveyed the surroundings, seeing a few carts and carriages bumping along.
“Did your boss tell you why I bailed on him?” Abe asked.
“Not really our job to ask,” the talkative brute said.
Abe snorted and moved away from the bar, heading towards the nearest alleyway. Both him and the thugs knew what they were doing. This wouldn’t be done anywhere near prying eyes and law enforcement.
“Well, your boss paid me to be just like you lot,” Abe explained. “Only issue is that my mark had some serious collateral damage involved.” He shook his head. “I’m cold but I’m not butchering an entire family kind of cold. Do you get me?”
“I do,” the brute said.
“Really?” Abe asked.
He cocked a brow.
The brute nodded. “Though it’s not going to help you in the slightest. After all…” He smirked. “We’re only slaughtering you and last I checked there were no children around.”
“Well just as long as you have a conscience,” Abe muttered under his breath.
They turned down an alleyway, somewhere secluded from the general populace of London. It was damp, dreary, and smelled of filth and sewage.
Abe took a few steps ahead and then turned around, facing off with his foes. They were like gunslingers in the American West, daring the other to make the first move.
The brutes reached into their pockets and produced their weapons: metal knuckles, a large knife, and a billy club.
Abe swallowed a lump in his throat and rested a hand upon the hilt of his sabre.
“Three against one,” he whispered under his breath.
Three against one. Suddenly the odds went from looking bad to downright dire as Abe caught the glint of sunlight off of the brute’s knife.
One of the thugs smiled at him, slapping the club against his meaty palm. The blow sounded potent and that was just a light tap. How ugly would it sound coming down upon a femur, or worse, his skull?
Abe drew in a breath and drummed his fingers against his weapon. “Did you know that my village was once home to a great general. You know, back in Japan.”
“Is that so?” the talkative thug asked.
Abe nodded. “A samurai who was brought into the employ of the Tojo clan during the great warlord period. A general who won many battles and was set to march on Tokyo when he was beset on all sides by a hostile force.”
The man seemed intrigued, ushering for Abe to continue.
“His army managed to get away safely because the general knew one very important lesson,” Abe said, blowing a puff of air into his cheek.
A breeze blew in from the street, bringing leaves and debris with it.
Abe then smirked. “He knew when to run away.”
He immediately turned on his heels and sprinted in the opposite direction. Thankfully, this alley spilled out into another street.
The thugs yelled at him, as he fled, taunting and jeering.
But that didn’t matter because Abe was faster than them and knew when the fuck to get out of dodge.
The Hilltop Hotel wasn’t much to look at. It was barely above a boarding house, if that. Still, it was the only lead Abe had to follow up on, the only employment that had looked even remotely appealing.
He entered the establishment and made his way towards the front desk.
The gentleman there gave him a skeptical look, instantly making him feel uneasy. The English were a lot of things but subtle was not amongst them.
“I’m here to see Mister Le Blanc,” Abe said.
The receptionist nodded and held out his hand. “May I see his card?”
“Card?” Abe asked.
The receptionist sighed. “Mister Le Blanc has requested that only people who present his business card are allowed up to his room.”
“I see,” Abe said, looking at the man. “I didn’t happen to get one from the job board I was looking at.”
The receptionist pursed his lips and shrugged. It was a very, ‘well what do you want me to do about it?’, kind of reaction.
“Is there an alternative way for me to get into contact with Carl?” Abe asked.
The receptionist rolled his eyes. “I guess we could run a message up to his room.”
Abe nodded. “Good, tell him that an Abe Wada is waiting for him.”
The receptionist blinked, probably having never heard of such a name before.
“Could you spell that for me?” he asked.
Abe did so, listing off each of the seven characters nice and slow. When he was finished, the receptionist beamed.
“Oh Abe!” he said. “Like the president?”
Abe sighed. “Yeah, like the president.”
The receptionist folded the note once and then motioned over to a sofa in the lobby.
Abe obliged him and went over to take a seat. He unholstered his weapon and placed it between his legs.
A moment later, the receptionist got up and made his way across the lobby and up the stairs.
“Like the fucking president,” he whispered under her breath, shaking his head. “Like I haven’t heard that a million times before.”
A few minutes went by before the receptionist returned.
In his wake stood a familiar figure. Though one who was a few years older than the last time they had met.
Carl smirked and placed a cigarette between his lips. “Well, if it isn’t Abe.”
He actually pronounced Abe the right way, the Japanese way. It was hard not to like the guy for that alone. Though Abe reserved himself, knowing this man far too well to feel at ease.
“How have you been?” Abe asked.
Carl chuckled. “I’ve been.”
He left it at that as he lit the tip of his cigarette, drawing in a deep drag and letting it out slowly.
“Yourself?” Carl asked.
Abe shrugged. “I’ve been doing my best to stay alive.”
“Well considering that you’re standing here I’d say that you’ve done a bang-up job of that,” Carl teased. “Still got the sword and everything.”
“I’d never give up the sword,” Abe responded.
Carl nodded. “Because of some spiritual connection, right?’
Abe snorted. “Because it’s worth a fortune. This thing is my retirement plan.”
“Well maybe I can help tide you over until retirement then,” Carl offered, motioning towards the stairs. “I’ve got plenty of exciting opportunities in this city.”
Abe chuckled and slowly shook his head.
“What?” Carl asked.
Abe smirked. “I’ve never known you not to have one or two exciting opportunities up your sleeves.”
“I’m a busy man,” Carl said. “No one makes it in the world by not being busy.”
They headed up the stairs and away from the lobby. Once they were out of earshot, Carl glanced towards Abe.
“So, I’m sure you’ve heard rumours about what I’ve been up to,” Carl said.
Abe nodded. “Hunting down that freak in the newspapers.”
“Among other things,” Carl added. “I’ve been hired by some Indian Duchess or Princess or something. All I know is that the girl has pockets full of gold and no problem spending it.”
“Sounds far-fetched,” Abe said.
Carl shrugged. “A little bit but her cheques clear, her gold is real, and her pound notes aren’t forgeries.”
They pushed through a door, entering a rather mundane hotel room. It was a little bit of a mess with clothing, sheets, and the tools of Carl’s trade littered all around.
“But anyways this Indian noble wants me to put together a team of enforcers who will crack down on all the ugly pimps and traffickers in this city,” Carl explained. “You know, make things nice and safe for the fine ladies who work near the harbourfront.”
Abe nodded. “A strangely noble goal for a woman of her class.”
“Eh I don’t ask anymore questions than I need to know,” Carl said. “If she asks me to jump then I’ll jump.”
He went over to a table with a pair of glasses upon it. Between them was a bottle that was partially filled with some kind of clear liquid.
“Thing I like best about England is the gin,” Carl explained. “Do you want some?”
Abe nodded and watched as Carl poured two rations into the two glasses. He then filled each with a pitcher of water and squeezed some lime into them. Once finished, he motioned for Abe to come over and take a seat.
“So, what do you say?” Carl asked. “Do you want to take a rich Indian heiress' money to protect a bunch of ladies of the night.”
Abe smirked. “Could be fun.”
“I can offer you room and board upfront plus a small stipend,” Carl explained. “If you want something bigger than that then I expect to see some heads roll.”
“I can make heads roll,” Abe said in a matter of fact tone.
Carl smirked. “Good because I think I have a job in mind for you. I need some help breaking into a household.”
Abe cocked a brow.
“I’ll do the sleuthing,” Carl explained. “I just need you to be the distraction.”
Abe thought about it for a moment, taping a finger against the side of his glass. Finally, he nodded to himself and held up his drink.
Carl grinned and clinked glasses with him.
“So how many people do you have onboard already?” Abe asked.
“Including me and you?” Carl hummed and did a poor job of concealing his smile. “Two.”
Abe blinked. “Excuse me?”
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