In the FBI headquarters of Tokyo, a short American man opened the door to his office roughly before slamming it. Glancing over at a clock on his table, the numbers read 2:35 am, and he groaned as he wiped the sweat from his brow.
"Agent Warner, sir? If you don't mind me asking, why are you here so early? I thought your shift always starts at 7am." a long, skinny young man asked as he slid through the entryway, his point causing the normally amicable stout man to growl.
"Get Hiragawa on the phone— Now!" Agent Warner barked, and the younger agent stiffened.
"Sir?" he asked, bewildered. Ichiro Hiragawa's Information Procurement company was nothing less than a private spy agency, one using illegal means to achieve their ends. Because of this, a couple years back, any partnership between the FBI and Hiragawa's company was banned by Head Agent Derron Warner himself.
"NOW, McQueen!"
Fumbling with his phone, he Agent McQueen finally got Hiragawa on the line as his superior demanded. It rang twice before a female voice answered in Japanese, "You've reached Ayakashi Take Out, may I take your order?"
The superior agent groaned in irritation before swearing in English, "I've got no goddamn time for this!! Put Hiragawa on the phone for god's sake!"
On the other end of the line, there was a pause before the woman replied, "Nani?"
"Oh for— fine!" The man yelled in English, then switching his langue to Japanese to say, "I'll have Combo Bowl 9 with extra sashimi."
There was another short pause. "Please stay on the line." She instructed, and placed the two agents on hold. Unfortunately, the awkward holding music did little to help the tense atmosphere between them.
The headpiece clicked and a smooth voice answered in Japanese, "This is Hiragawa. How may I assist you Agent Warner?"
"Listen Hiragawa— I don't like you. I've never liked you, but I need your help." Agent Warner admitted through clenched teeth, a hand moving to rub his throbbing temples.
"Oh? And what has the mighty FBI Agent stumped?" the low, relaxed voice asked with mockery in his tone.
Agent Warner let out a deep breath before answering, "We need to find that sniper, the one called Night. My team has been working on his case for months, and it's like the bastard doesn't even exist."
"I see... And why do you need to find Night so badly that you'd reach out to me?" Hiragawa sounded hesitant now, untrusting if this new olive branch.
"Night has moved from number 48 to number 16 after flawlessly assassinating a prominent member of the Prime Minister's cabinet, which will be breaking news in a couple hours. I received a call from my boss at two in the morning telling me I only have a few weeks to find this bastard or I'll lose my job. I need your resources and your agents. I know you have personnel plugged into the criminal underworld we've been trying to penetrate for years. Because of the importance of this case, we're willing to pay you whatever you need to track Night down. Once you find them, we'll take care of the rest." the FBI agent's explanation left little room for questions.
On the other line, Hiragawa hummed as he thought. "This is an interesting little offer you've come to me with. I may have an agent available who can track Night down, but I can't guarantee they will be found within a few weeks. Night has been covering their tracks flawlessly for at least three years now. It won't be an easy assignment. We don't even know if they're male or female."
With a sigh of resignation, Agent Warner buried his face in his hands. "Fine. Fine. Just get that agent of yours briefed tonight. I cannot stress the urgency of this case enough. I'll put Agent McQueen on for further talk of payment— I need some goddamn coffee." Handing the phone over to his subordinate, Warner paused, bringing it back to his face, "If you pull this off, Hiragawa, I'll come to you with more assignments. If you don't, I'll shut you down. Is that clear?"
"Perfectly. Enjoy your coffee, Agent Warner." Hiragawa's voice remained even in the face of the threat, and the older agent simply huffed in reply before handing the phone over to McQueen.
Unused to having this much responsibility, the younger agent stammered as he put the phone to his ear, "T-This is McQueen—"
"Sorry, Agent McQueen, but you'll be talking to my second in command about the payment matters— you'll find she's quite reliable. I have to make contact with my agent, so I'll transfer you over to her now." The enigmatic man interrupted, pushing a button on his phone to transfer the call, then placing it down on his expensive walnut desk.
Hiragawa swiveled around in his leather chair to look out over Tokyo. Because he had selected an office in one of the city's highest skyscrapers, the view never ceased to capture his imagination. "Well, this should prove interesting." He mused.