Naoki wanted to vomit. One of the masked waiters glided up to Koga 
and presented a tray. A single syringe sat on it, pretty and unused. A 
greenish liquid was inside. 


The yakuza pushed away the tray and said, “I’m looking for Shoji- 
san.” 


The waiter bowed obsequiously and led Naoki to one of the booths 
lining the sides of the room. 


The booth was occupied by a lean young man wearing a large pair 
of sunglasses and with a normal tobacco cigarette in his mouth. A 
girl was in both of his arms on both sides, laughing and giggling at 
him while a circle of associates sat in the booth, similarly occupied. 


The man glanced up when the waiter approached. Naoki cleared his 
throat. “Are you Shoji-san?” 


The smoking man grinned. “I might be. Who’s asking?” Naoki almost 
cringed at the cliched line. 


“Koga Naoki.” 


The man grinned even wider. “Ahhh, so you're the one that my old 
grampa sent, eh? Sit down, bud, have a drink. Like my nightclub?” 


Naoki sat down, somewhat stiffly. “It’s nice, sir.” 


“You bet your ass it is. Paid a lot of money for it too. So, let’s get 
straight to business. You want to get hooked up in the Spirit Dust 


business, huh?” The man leaned away from his girls to put his 
elbows on the table. One of his girls stood up, and seductively 
walked over to Naoki’s side of the table. She sat on his lap. 


Naoki was unfazed. 


“lam. Your grandfather told me to talk to you about it.” The girl put 
her arms around Naoki, who continued to ignore her. 


She purred into his ear, “I’ve had a couple yakuza boys before, but 
nobody like you.” 


Naoki ignored her. She didn’t interest him, and nothing she did 
would. 


“Yeah, I’m the guy to talk to. So, your local outfit wants some Spirit 
Dust, they gotta pay up a fee to us when they sell. You dig?” The 
man grinned again. Naoki already wanted to hit him. This punk was 
playing at grown-up. 


“| understand, and I’m aware of the fees. Can we get set up witha 
supply soon?” Naoki asked, as the girl started to kiss his neck. 


“Sure, sure. So serious, man. Sure you don’t want to stick around? 
This party’s pretty great, and the girls are interested in you.” Shoji 
motioned towards the room. Another body was getting dragged out. 


“| think I'll pass. Not my type of party.” 


“Sure, sure, | get it, not that kind of guy. We’ve got some guys who 
are pretty interested too.” 


“I’m good, thanks. Will you stop that?” Naoki referred to the girl who 
was now stroking his lap. She looked somewhat shocked for a 
moment, as if she really hadn’t expected him to refuse her 
advances. Then, she reluctantly slid off of him. 


For a moment, a shade of annoyance flicked over Shoji’s face, 
before he went back to his grinning demeanor. Naoki cocked an 
eyebrow. 


“Well, I'll see you around then, Naoki. | can call you that, right? 


We’re friends.” He offered a hand. 


“Right. Friends.” Naoki shook Shoji’s hand, making sure to grip 
tightly. 


A twinge of pain shuddered through Shoji’s body, but he didn’t show 
it. Naoki left the hedonist scene, and then went out of the nightclub. 


The brisk night air invigorated him as he headed for his car. Yet one 
thing wouldn’t leave his memory, try as he might. 


It was those goddamn eyes. 


« Of Meetings and Meals | Mainline Hub | All Work and No Play 


» 


All Work and No Play 


“How long do you think he’s going to take this time?” 


Katsuo scratched his chin and checked his watch. “Who knows. He 
certainly doesn't seem to be in a rush." 


Yuudai Shibata and Katsuo Tanaka sat in their undercover car, 
parked a safe distance away from a nondescript apartment complex 
in Fukuoka. Yuudai was fidgeting with his wristband and looking out 
the car window every so often to glance at the building’s doors. 
Katsuo calmly sat in the car, checking his watch and phone 
occasionally while keeping a steady eye on the door. 


A quiet beeping alerted Katsuo to his phone. Yuudai noticed a 
similar beeping from his. Both of them looked at each other for a 
moment before turning to their phones. 


“MAJOR NEWS. REPORT TO DESIGNATED SPOT AT 1400 
HOURS TOMORROW. -MI” 


Katsuo cocked an eyebrow at the message. Minori Iwata herself 
thought it was a piece of major news? What exactly was happening? 


“Look. There he is.” Yuudai pointed as the satchel carrying man that 
Yuudai had met earlier came out of the apartment complex. 
Noticeably, however, his satchel was gone. Whistling a pop tune, 
the man got into his car. 


Katsuo quietly started the car, and began to follow the car once 
more. Yuudai licked his lips, and pulled out the pistol in his pocket, 
checking that the gun was loaded. 


“Put that away. We’re going to check where he lives, not kill him.” 
Katsuo glanced at Yuudai. 


“Never hurts to be prepared, right? I’m not ruling anything out.” 


Yuudai pointed out. 


“Put it away. | don’t want you trigger happy, especially when you’re 
not going anywhere near the guy. He’s already seen you.” 


Yuudai grimaced for a moment, but put the gun away. Katsuo 
couldn't blame him. He would have been worried had he been in 
Yuudai’s shoes too. 


Katsuo drove smoothly, but with a somewhat distracted air. What 
could Iwata possibly want? He wondered if the undercover agents 
had made any progress. He knew that the Foundation also had 
people in with the Dojin-kai, but he had no idea who they were or 
anything they had accomplished. 


Maybe he needed to talk to Hisashi again, he thought. See if his 
contacts with the Dojin-kai knew anything that was going on with 
that group. Or would that just hurt his cover? Or would it be worse if 
he didn’t do anything at all? 


Katsuo shook his head clear of distracting thoughts to focus on the 
task at hand: following the dealer. Suddenly, the suspect’s car 
turned left, down a smaller road, until it reached a small kendo dojo. 
The dealer parked the car and exited quietly, glancing around as he 
did so. 


Tanaka stopped the car. This was something new. 


A man came out of the dojo, and greeted the dealer, who produced 
the backpack full of money that Yuudai had given him. The 
newcomer looked at it, then smiled at the dealer, before taking the 
offered bag. After a few moments of conversation, the two entered 
the dojo together. 


The detective turned off the car and pulled out his phone. While 
pretending to look at it, he used the phone’s camera to discreetly 
gaze around at the street surrounding the car. 


The whole street was located in one of the more well-to-do districts 
of the city, lined with fashionable clothing boutiques advertising the 
latest American styles, and small cafes and shops scattered 


throughout the area. Across the street from the kendo dojo was a 
small convenience store. The kendo dojo seemed almost out of 
place in this upscale neighborhood; a relic of an older time. It 
certainly seemed a little disused compared to the plastic shine of the 
rest of the area. 


The detective focused on the last thing he saw, and walked into the 
convenience store. He glanced around. His only company was a 
bored looking cashier and an older man who was thumbing through 
some magazines. 


Tanaka picked up a small box of candy as he walked to the register, 
still Keeping an eye on the dojo across the street. The cashier 
mechanically checked out the purchase. Katsuo cleared his throat. 


“So, that kendo dojo across the street. Is it any good?” 


The cashier flicked his eyes to him for a moment. “I hear it’s alright. 
Mostly younger guys wanting to look tough.” 


“Ah, okay. Know anything about the master there?” 
“Wouldn’t know. Wouldn't care. Here’s your candy, sir.” 


Katsuo took the box back, and walked out of the store. As he 
passed between the doors, he casually dropped his hand behind 
him, sticking a small object next to the door of the convenience 
store, pointing straight at the dojo. 


Tanaka entered the car and slid in smoothly, tossing the box of 
candy to Yuudai. 


“Eat it, I’m not going to.” 


Shibata seemed as if had a question, but thought better of it. He 
opened the box tentatively, but then set it down, staring into the box. 
After a moment, he looked back up into his mentor's eyes. 


“What now?” The young detective asked. 


Katsuo scratched his chin. “Looks like we've got a meeting.” 


“Holy fucking shit, man. This is one hell of a payload.” 


Naoki Koga reclined against his chair, almost wincing at the talk. All 
of these idiots wanting to look cool. As if watching a couple awful 
American gangster movies and swearing would boost your 
reputation. 


Naoki ignored it though. Since his crew had started selling Spirit 
Dust, the money kept flowing in. And if that kept his crew happy and 
(relatively) quiet, he was okay with that. Even if meant putting up 
with the idiots. They’d learn eventually, or wash out like the rest. 


The backroom of the dojo was filled to the brim with the members of 
Naoki’s individual gang, a collection of 12 shatei that Naoki had 
hand-selected. They ranged in age from old to young, some dealers, 
some enforcers, some only foot-soldiers. All faithful yakuza. All 
handpicked by Naoki himself. 


And in the middle of them all was a neatly organized pile of money 
so large it seemed almost cartoonish. Yoshida hadn’t been joking 
when he talked about the price they were selling spirit dust for. And 
it had only been rising as they were selling the drug, Koga mused. 


“So, after we give the oyabun his cut, what are we going to do with 
the rest?” The same man who spoke earlier asked. He grinned a 
toothy smile, all too telling of his youth. “I’ve got this motorcycle I’ve 
been eye-” 


“Shut your mouth, you insolent twat.” An old man, covered in tattoos 
snorted. He shook his head in disgust, earning him some toothless 
grins from the older members. “Kyodai Koga is the one to decide, 
not a brat so young he’s barely got a tattoo on him.” The old man 
gestured to his body to make his point. 


The youth sprang up from his seat and glared at the old man, his 
eyes burning. His hands went to his belt. “You looking to start a 
fight, you pi-” 


“Hey.” A single word, full of authority, cut through the air like a razor. 


Naoki folded his arms as everyone turned to look at him. “The 


SCP-674: The Exposition Gun 


Item #: SCP-674 
Object Class: Safe 


Special Containment Procedures: When not being tested, 
SCP-674 is to remain in a locked plastic case in Storage Site-23. 
SCP-674's cord is not required for its operation and is to remain 
coiled and tied. SCP-674 poses no existential threat to anyone other 
than its user; however, it has already demonstrated itself to be a 
potential security risk for the Foundation. Therefore in the event that 
security around SCP-674 is compromised, on-site personnel are 
authorized to destroy it at their discretion. Testing is ongoing to 
determine the risks and possibilities in using SCP-674 as an 
information gathering device. 


Description: SCP-674 is a "Zapper" light gun peripheral for the 
Nintendo Entertainment System, consistent with other models that 
were bundled with the NES in North America after 1985. SCP-674 
displays typical wear and tear and some indication that previous 
owners tried to pry the casing open unsuccessfully. The device is 
not indestructible and has responded to stress tests as expected. 
Disassembling and reassembling the device has revealed no 
anomalous parts or internal tampering. Cleaning and maintenance 
of its parts appears to have improved its accuracy but has not 
removed a blind spot that begins on the extreme right side of any 
screen it is aimed at. 


When SCP-674 is aimed and fired at any video screen, the user 
perceives that he or she has fired a shot into the displayed scene. 
Any physical object within the scene, whether live or previously 
recorded, will react appropriately in context. People who are shot will 
appear to die or be wounded, and other people in the scene will 
duck, take cover or flee off camera. It must be noted that this will not 
correspond with reality outside of the video and no one beyond the 
user of SCP-674 will perceive the change. Results will vary 


money goes to the family. We earned this as a family, we keep it as 
a family. Got it?” He looked around to meet the eyes of each of his 
gang brothers in turn. They met his gaze, or looked away in shame, 
in the case of the upstart. 


A kyodai’s word is law to shatei. 


Naoki looked over at one man in particular. “Shiba-san. Count up 
the money, throw it in the safe, and make a record of it. Nobody’s to 
touch it without me there.” 


Shiba bowed deeply, and ran off to find a cart for the money. The 
youth looked at him, somewhat longingly, Koga noted. 


Naoki sat in his chair with perfect poise, and steepled his fingers in 
front of him. It was a very American gesture that he had picked up, 
but he enjoyed it. He considered the audience in front of him, and 
chose his words carefully. 


“Your loyalty is unquestionable. Yes?” 
A few confused looks, but nods and murmurs of assent in response. 


“You are my brothers in arms, and I’ve helped this crew get to where 
itis. Yes?” 


The shatei looked far more confident now, and nodded vigorously or 
vocalized their agreement. 


“So. Then you all did what | told you to?” 


They nodded, this time for sure. The shatei dealers produced small 
devices from various places, and held them up for Naoki to see. He 
gestured to the table in front of him, and they placed their devices on 
the table. The screens on the devices glowed in an indistinct way. 


Koga leaned back in his chair, and swept his hair backwards. 
“Excellent.” He couldn't help but grin at his crew. 


Then, he heard a slight beeping from his phone, and froze. It wasn’t 
his normal phone. He slipped into his pocket and pulled out his 
Foundation issue. On the screen was a single text message. 


“MAJOR NEWS. REPORT TO DESIGNATED SPOT AT 1400 
HOURS TOMORROW. -MI” 


He looked at it, betraying no sign of distress in his face, though his 
stomach turned. Was it one of the other undercover agents? Iwata 
couldn’t know about his latest moves yet, could she? 


Whatever had happened, it wasn't likely to be good. 


He looked up from his phone and put it away. He cleared his throat, 
looking up into the expectant eyes of his crew. 


“Let’s get to work.” 


One hour earlier 


Commander Minori lwata put on her coat, and walked out of the 
Foundation facility onto the streets of Fukuoka, muttering some 
goodbyes to the people she passed, who knew better than to 
engage her in this kind of mood. 


There was a light rain, but it didn’t bother her too much. Rain was 
the least of her problems, as she stalked through the streets, head 
down, and mind full of thoughts. 


All of these regional containment teams, and they had accomplished 
precisely jack shit. The rate at which spirit dust incidents were 
occurring was quickly growing uncontainable, but none of her teams 
had anything to report on with regards to investigation. 


As far as she knew, spirit dust was a literal demonic substance, as 
some of the civilians they had amnesticized were saying. Nobody 
had any leads on where the substance was coming from, aside from 
the fact that the Dojin-kai yakuza were pushing it around. Where 
they got it from, nobody had any clue. 


She glanced up, looking at the garish signs and ads of downtown 
Fukuoka, blaring some obnoxious drivel about beauty supplies or 
new appliances, or something else. She sighed. If only these 
beautifully deluded idiots knew what had to be done to keep them in 
their state of idle, ignorant bliss.