Chains of Command

by NoDrog(s) and Love Robin

Chapter 7: Slipped Chains

At the very moment Shego was pimping Ron and Yori together, Team Rockwaller-Du were busy struggling to stay alive.

Bonnie dodged a sword swipe and struck rapidly, knocking the sword flying with her own weapon. She glanced to make sure her pets were doing ok. Tara was having fun, playing with her opponents. Hope, the weakest fighter of the three, was backing up from a man with a spiked chain, unaware of another going for her back. With a yell, Bonnie charged for the man threatening her Hope… .

The day had started out well; Team Rockwaller-Du had stepped up to take on a mission Team Possible’s new leader had declined, via e-mail, the evening before. It seemed fairly straight-forward; One of Global Justice's critically important but less publicized duties was to help various factions to resolve conflicts without use of armed force. Team Rockwaller-Du had been assigned to broker a truce and division of territory between the Finger and Toe ninja clans.

The two clans were subsidiaries of the Hand and Foot clans respectively, but both were now seeking their own identities. ~They might start by changing their names!~ thought the debutante agent. ~I mean how can any self-respecting ninja go around claiming to be Finger or Toe??~

Today, the neutral ground the two bitter enemies had somehow agreed upon was an expensive and expansive Asian-something or other restaurant. It was still morning in Bangkok, with the place empty for several hours before the need to open for lunch. The restaurant staff were secluded in the kitchen, the doors of the restaurant guarded by a combined group of low level Toe and Finger clan members.

That Du showed up with three beautiful tsuikisoinin (retinue attendants) seemed to grant him points in status. Apparently not many points, however; the team was separated and then each team member was made to strip and change under scrutiny into clothing provided for them. Reluctantly, Bonnie could see why two rival groups of assassins would be leery of gaijin technology woven into or covered by the Global Justice suits.

The procedure for the four was the same; all four were forced to undress while two attendants waited with them; male attendants for Will Du, female for the others. The largest weapons found were the twin, wickedly sharp hilt-less Kris blades Tara had been wearing strapped to her thighs. She had practiced long and hard on the fastest way to grab them so they would quickly cut their way through the uniform cloth. The blonde pouted as one of the attendants carried her clothes and blades away, keeping her head down so they would not see the sparkle in her eyes.

Once their original clothes had been safely secured away, the attendants had subjected the four to a quick and efficient pat down, making comments on Gaijin modesty in trying to keep their crotches covered with their hands. Hope was forced to surrender a pair of metal hair picks and then their hair was combed and inspected for hidden weapons.

Bonnie growled at the indignity of having to submit to a physical body search while naked, only slightly mollified about the big break this mission was for her team. In their own booths, her submissives submitted without comment, Hope keeping her ears open to every word spoken about her. Tara’s eyes, however, lit up with unabashed excitement when she saw what they wanted her to wear. As an avid otaku (fan) of manga, animé and general cosplay, the blonde thought she had hit the jackpot.

In short order the three teens were checking each other out in the larger antechamber outside the changing booths. Bonnie could see the perverse humor behind the choices. Divested of their Global Justice gear, their guests had provided them with alternate uniforms. Of a sort.

Hope provided, “They’re called serafuku, or sailor girl Japanese school uniforms.”

Tara twirled in hers. “Not exactly! Yeah they’re modeled off of them, but authentic siefuku, sera or otherwise, would not be in two pieces like this.” There was a noticeable gap between the tops and bottoms of the outfits, baring their midriffs as much as their old cheerleader outfits. “These are more like sexified fetish versions. D-O-M versions!”

Dirty Old Men indeed. They did resemble the wear popularized by Japanese schoolgirls; thin-material white tops with navy blue sailor collars, simplified ties built in, with matching pleated plaid miniskirts. The skimpy clothing left little to the imagination. With their cleavage and bared legs and feet on such display, the brunette saw them more at home on a stripper’s stage than at any school. “We are being mocked,” she growled, then snapped for the missing member of the team, the so-called ‘leader’ she had been saddled with. “Du! Will you get out here?”

“No.”

All turned toward the last dressing booth, where they could see the young man’s dark olivine skin from neck down and bare feet up, but blocked by the swinging doors. “What do you mean, ‘no’? Get your butt out here!”

“This is beyond ludicrous. This is ridicule in its basest form,” he replied. “I shall not come out wearing what they’ve given me. I demand more clothing!”

As her mistress allowed her and Tara free reign to mock the agent, Hope spoke up, “Look at what they’re making us wear. How bad can it be?”

“Trust me, you’re wearing gowns compared to what I have,” he glowered.

“Oh for pity’s sake!” Bonnie stormed past the changing room attendants and, yanking on his left shoulder, pulled him through the doors.

She blinked.

Hope sniggered into a hand while Tara wolf-whistled.

“Nice fundoshi,” the blonde giggled.

Agent Will Du stood there wearing nothing more than a Japanese loincloth made of a long strip of navy blue cloth wrapped and folded about his groin with the backside twisted into a thong-like appearance. “This is demeaning to an agent of my stature and mission!” he lamented.

“Oh suck it up and live up to your name, ‘Will Do’,” the debutante smirked. She decided to smooth his wounded ego, “Apparently they consider you the most dangerous of us since they’ve left you with the least places to hide anything.”

Slightly mollified, the agent nodded, recovering his composure. “Of course. Then this is wise of them to be so cautious!”

The black-haired Romani girl, Hope, nodded, the seriousness on her face not in her eyes, “Sure.”

One of the attending women, dressed as geishas, indicated a corridor for them to proceed down, kneeling with back to jamb, then dropping forehead to flooring. She banged a small gong as Du strutted ahead with his entire backside, tight buttocks especially, on display. Bonnie glanced at the darker-skinned girl who as usual was at her left shoulder.

Hope Inglee shook her head minutely, Nothing worth breaking silence for. No need to let them know I understand the language.

Among seventy-five others.

“Remain alert, pets,” the brunette took in the blonde’s eagerly shining eyes, the ravenhead’s complacent ones, and narrowed her own as she followed into the corridor several steps behind the ‘team leader’. For once she was grateful for his stiff stick-up-his-ass stride. It meant their own would not stand out.

The corridor was tight. Single file. A bottleneck, and a good place for an ambush…

At the end a left-hand turn opened onto a lavish room. As to be expected all of the accoutrements in sight were Japanese or otherwise Asian in origin or design. Red and black, with plenty of golden filigree, were the predominant colors. Even empty the room was busy; everywhere the eye fell was chock full of detail for the mind to take in and sort. As they stepped inside, from similar entrances on two of the three other walls, so did the opposing Ninja groups, five each. As they did, it was apparent each were dressed in colors to differentiate them. For the first time the brunette realized their blues were in recognition of Global Justice’s signature color.

Even without the colors though, it was easy enough to define the two sides. Wearing green, the Finger Clan were all tall and thin individuals, one almost willowy; the Toe Clan shorter and stouter by far, wore a reddish magenta tone just butch of pink. Each person was otherwise stereotypically Asian, even if she was unable to tell Japanese from Chinese or Hawai‘ian or whatever. The clan leadership were both older with touches of white peppering their hair.

Nearly all eyes fell upon Tara with frank and open appreciation. Will, Hope, and Bonnie had appearances – hair, skin-tones and even facial features – not that far from the rest in the room, whereas the blonde’s bright blue eyes and healthy fair complexion stood out among them like a beam of sunlight through an open window. She could not have drawn more attention had she been made of living gold.

As all converged upon a mid-sized table set with three chairs, whispers fluttered between the members of the other two camps. Du ignored it, taking his place at the table. However the three girls exchanged concerned glances. Being not just women, but young and pretty, they were very much aware of when they were the center of attention from men, openly or otherwise.

This attention was very blatant indeed.

By silent consensus, brunette and raven-haired were in agreement. Neither of them were the subject of appraisal.

“Gentlemen,” the young Mediterranean man started, “Thank you for coming. I am Agent William Du, Senior Field Agent for Global Justice.” I used to be ‘Number One’ and the ‘Top Agent’ until a certain redhead was recruited! he swallowed down internally. Face not revealing his inner thoughts, he folded hands atop the table, continuing, “These are my teammates. On behalf of the United Nations and associated world governments, we express our appreciation for this opportunity to help mediate a discussion of territorial reallocation.

“Again, welcome.”

This is stupid. Global politics or no, why don’t we just arrest them, take down everyone? Standing at Du’s shoulder, Tara immediately behind him, Hope to his other side, the brunette debutante held her tongue. Like the other lieutenants of the Clan Heads, her eyes were constantly on the move, trying to take in every motion, every sound – and since these were ninjas they were dealing with – every shadow.

In turn each elder shinobi, starting to Will’s right, inclined his head and spoke the same phrase, “Youkoso irasshai mashita Du-san, anata wa nihongo wo hanashimasu ka?”

Bonnie cut a glance at Hope to see if that was something important. The girl’s non-reaction said it was still nothing worth tipping their linguistic hand over; Welcome Mr Du, do you speak Japanese?

Keeping his face as serious as his opposite numbers, in fact as it always was, Will held up both hands. “Please gentlemen. I do not speak Japanese beyond ordering certain dishes of sushi and asking for chopsticks, and poorly by the looks I receive. For something as momentous and important as this meeting, I’d rather not risk insult or errors by mangling your wonderful language. I do speak fourteen other languages, so perhaps we can find one suitable for us all. English perhaps?”

Looks and nods were passed back and forth, between the two leaders, and then with their retainers.

“Excellently done, Du-san,” nodded the thin older ninja immediately to the agent’s right. “I am Oyayubi. The Finger Clan welcomes you to Bangkok.”

The Toe counterpart almost cracked a smile, “You do us and your superiors great honor with your words. The Toe Clan also welcomes you and Global Justice at this table. I am Boshi.”

“I graciously accept your welcome and thank you,” Will nodded in return. “How best may we start the deliberations?” Again in counterclockwise order, to the right-hand, each spoke.

Finger, “Before we begin, there is one demand I set.”

Toe, “There is one thing I too most require before proceeding.”

“What might these be?”

“I desire to be the one to receive the burondo. You shall give her to me… .”

Hope sucked air through her teeth.

“No! I must have her!”

The debutante agent had no need for the Romani girl to translate, she already knew in her gut what they meant. The previous stares had made it so plain it was of little surprise…, The blonde. Fucking perverts want Tara!

Will frowned, “I’m afraid I don’t… ‘burondo’?”

As one both leaders pointed at the Beam of Sunlight in the room. Tara hiccuped an eep! as her eyebrows shot up to her hairline.

“Her…,”

“That one…,”

They shouted in unison, “…SHE SHALL BE MINE!!”

The ‘Lead’ Agent slammed the flat of his hand on the tabletop. The abrupt retort rang out, calling a stop to the arguments in rapid-fire Japanese between the two leaders and retinues. All eyes turned back to the Global Justice-appointed mediator. Waiting for a full minute to ensure he had their attention, he calmly said, “Absolutely unacceptable. No.”

~Well, at least he’s doing something right.~ Bonnie thought as she gestured, giving a hand signal that told her pets to be ready to act on their own initiative.

The silence continued for a moment longer before both men started yelling orders, both basically the same:

“KOROSHITE! Boku ga burondo da! KOROSHITE NANBITO!!”

Hope yelled out “Seven!”, a signal that put the three former cheerleaders into motion. As Hope started to move, she shouted out a translation in explanation. “Kill them… The blonde is for me alone! Kill all of them!”

From nowhere the room was suddenly full of black clad forms. It was uncertain to the brunette where they all came from. They could have been coalescing smoke and shadows for all she knew. ~What did you expect Rockwaller? A gong to chime as they appear?~ Some had green accessories, some magenta; all wore head covering hoods showing only their eyes. Ninjaken, the short straight-bladed sword they favored, flashed in the room’s muted lighting.

All three girls were already falling backwards as if tumbling from a bad fall, the blonde only taking an extra moment to step forward to grab Will’s hair and pull him back with her. Several razor-sharp blades cut the air, missing his neck by mere seconds and inches. By the time Tara’s shoulders hit the flooring, both Bonnie and Hope had completed their rolls. The blonde’s arms extended, her hands positioned directly under where mistress and sister sub landed in broad crouches, feet firmly planted far apart. From under the skirts of the darker-haired pair, from directly between their legs – one each – dropped an eight inch cylindrical object into each of her hands.

By the time Tara was back on her own feet, a similar object forced out of her like a chicken dropping an egg to hit the floor, she had thumbed the sheaths from the pair of tanto Japanese daggers, flicking them for Hope to catch. The ravenhead already had snatched a lock of her own hair, two-foot in length, that had been loosely weaved back in. While she quickly worked to assemble her weapon, Bonnie dove to plant palms on the floor, swinging legs to sweep a matched set of Finger and Toes off their feet before they could strike at Du. On her way back up she had already grabbed the thing the blonde had deposited for her. With a flick, it extended into a forty-two inch jo, or short-staff baton.

Tara had already sprung into the thick of the action. For some reason, the normally sweet and gentle blonde transformed into a dervish when holding a pair of blades. Of any sort. Employing Nekotekken; Iron Cat Fist; a style of martial arts she had eagerly absorbed from a couple of her favorite animé shows – yes, she had trained herself by watching TV – the girl moved with an economy and conciseness of motion that belied her usual vacuous appearance.

That is, until one took note of her calm smile, collected face, and how empty her shining eyes were. GJ experts were uncertain of exactly what was going on with the timid girl, but most popular theory was she was no longer consciously in control of her actions. It was as if she was asleep, and sleepwalking. No, more than that…

…Sleep fighting.

By the time Bonnie was putting her baton-twirling and new skills with staff to good use, standing protectively over a shocked ‘lead’ agent, her other submissive pet had Tara’s weighted tanto sheaths anchored to each other by lock of hair, forming a very sturdy and workable nunchaku. She took up the third triangle point position that had Will in the center.

“How did you manage to get weapons in here?” he asked.

“It… sure wasn’t… comfortable!” the debutante responded between blocks and strikes.

“Where could you possibly have hidden them?”

“Don’t… ASK!” she grunted, putting her back into another strike, then a sidekick.

Hope looked up at the tallest of the Finger lieutenants. He was seven foot tall if he was an inch. “Onore wa se ga takai desu ne” she taunted, You’re pretty tall, aren’t you?

He sneered as he pressed in without answer. She slung her weapon about her slim form. Taking care to not allow sharp blades near the tether of hair between them, she blocked as needed with only the saya, the sheaths. After sidestepping a slash, she impacted his temple firmly, felling the tall assassin like a tree. Out of the corner of her eye she caught another collapsing as her mistress took him out, covering her back.

Meanwhile, Tara drew blood left and right with viscous slashes while turning the flat of her blades to block. Her style was one which had the short lengths of steel mainly along her forearms, thumbs resting on the butt of the hilts. At one point she found one of her opponents wearing aishiki, the special claw-like spikes attached to the bottom of his split-toed jika-tabi boots. Subconsciously she divested him of them by jamming heels on his insteps to make the points stick in the wooden flooring under the cloth matting before smoothly delivered vicious kicks forced his feet out of them. Once clear of him and the next attacker, her own bare feet found the claws. Slipping them on like sandals, she yanked them free.

With that, bare feet weaponized as well as hands, the blonde’s mental image of herself as a catgirl was complete. Yowling like a feline, the effectiveness and intensity of her subconscious fighting skills virtually doubled. No matter how many times her mistress and lover saw it, they were awed with the transformation.

Tara now leapt to the offense more than defense. Long legs reached out, catching ninjaken blades with aishiki claws; in some instances forcing sharp edges into walls, floors, and to slice each other; in others twisting the swords from grasps and sending them spinning away. In short order the remaining shinobi of both clans, their masters already ushered from the room, began to back away from the golden-haired girl, blades pointed at her. In awed tones comments flew back and forth, as if in debate:

“Maneki Neko!”

“Kin’iro toraneko!”

“Maneki toraneko… .”

“Kin’ro Maneki toraneko!”

“…no oni…”

“No kesei!”

“No akki!!”

“Hope…,” Bonnie prompted, taking advantage of the lull to catch her breath.

“They’re arguing exactly what Tara is. Some are calling her either a ‘spirit or lucky’ cat, others a… wildcat? Final consensus is she is some form of Golden Wildcat… and I think trying to decide if she is simply an awesomely skilled human or some form of good or evil spirit.”

“T…, best and loudest kitty-hiss!” the brunette commanded.

Barely breathing hard from her exertions, the blonde did just that, waving fists holding sharpened steel and screeching like her tail – had she one – been caught under a rocking chair.

Which was enough to finally send the spooked assassins scattering, a couple keeping the presence of mind to throw flash-bang smoke bombs to cover their retreat.

Finally pulling himself to his feet, Will Du blinked as Tara turned back to them smiling, her normally sweet disposition back in place. “I never would have believed the reports… .”

“Which is why, Oh Fearless Leader with So Much to Do, you should make more time to spar with us in the Simulator,” Bonnie huffed. She spun to Hope. “Are we alone?”

Looking about the Romani replied, “It’s not like I have super senses or anything. No one’s saying anything nearby, but they could be watching us without talking.”

“We better get out of here before they regroup and comeback en force,” Du commented.

Now he takes charge, Bonnie sneered inwardly. Outwardly, “Tara, go grab our gear.”

“Can I keep the outfit?”

“You can have all of them,” the brunette answered. “We’ll change in the hoverjet, not here. Will, soon as we get one of the RCMs, remote-set it for pre-flight.”

Feeling, not for the first time, like a fourth wheel on a tricycle, he nodded. Now was not the time for one of their usual discussions about who gave the orders. “We’ll need to arrange another meeting.”

As they filed out, black-haired Hope yelled into the empty room, “Watashi tachi wa raishu kaeru!” We will return next week!

“Nekomata wa ouchi haburu ze!” came the voice of Oyayubi.

Form the other direction floated Boshi’s, “Hai!” For once they seemed to be in perfect agreement.

Hope grinned. “Leave the hellcat at home,” she translated, smiling at her sister-pet.

AN: What? It can’t ALL be about kinky sex, well, I mean, there was something kinky going on if you didn’t blink… still, BiTcH will get their other licks in soon…

Japanese is a wonderful tongue. However it can be open to various interpretations. Two translators side-by-side can often give you two variations on what is said. Some of Hope’s interpretations are intentionally slightly off, some are simply LoveRobin’s unintentional errors. Don’t hurt either of them…

Love Robin still has her Polls open, one on her profile page, one on her forum. For those interested, so far it’s 55% “Wish FF.N would make Collaborations”; 34% “Yes so I don’t have to decide”; 11% “No, not another ‘author’ to watch”