[The following fevered writhings should be understood as an affectionate fair-use PARODY. All characters of the Lupin III franchise are the property of their original creator, Monkey Punch, for whose work I am forever grateful. Oh, and the lyrics quoted in the epigrams are the property of Donald Fagen and Walter Becker, for whose work I am also forever grateful. I earn nothing from these writings except entertainment value. Thanks, and carry on!]
When Black Friday comes, I'll collect everything I'm owed
And before my friends find out I'll be on the road
--Steely Dan, "Black Friday"
"Shit. Hang on, we're in for some rough-riding here." Nessa floors it and we take the washboard road at a teeth-jarring 90 mph. But the copter is gaining on us easily, and there's no useful cover out here. I do a quick mental inventory of the remaining toys I've got with me and realize I don't have anything studly enough to immediately do in an assault copter. I see from the set of Jigen's jaw that he's done a similar assessment. Okay, time to start thinking creative ...
And then I look way far down the road, see a familiar figure in white and gray, and realize my luck -- and the exquisite Zen timing of Ishikawa Goemon XIII -- have saved my ass once again.
"Who the fuck is that?" says Nessa.
"He's one of ours, kid." Jigen grins. "Just floor it right by him."
"And then keep an eye on your rear-view mirror," I add, "'cause you don't want to miss this show."
He stands there by the side of the road, still as a statue, eyes closed, the legendary blade at rest in its unadorned scabbard, his long hair and the full skirts of his hakama waving gently in the breeze, seemingly oblivious to us or our car or the helicopter or the bullets it's spewing or anything else around him. But Jigen and I both know this is nothing more than the meditative calm before the lightning storm.
Just as we roar past him, his eyes snap open, fixated on the 'copter as if it's some ancestral nemesis.
And then, with a kiai more torn from his throat than shouted, he's airborne -- leaping effortlessly from a standing start to a point just under the belly of the 'copter, where he hangs, defying gravity, for a miraculously long time. All that can be seen of the actual draw and strike are flashes of light ... and then he's descending, the helicopter seemingly unscathed. It's not until he's earthbound again, and Zantetsuken has slid back home into its scabbard with a click of hilt against sheath, that the helicopter groans and slides apart into two halves like a ripe melon. Rotors whine, gas lines explode, and several tons of twisted metal fall out of the sky, strewing the ground with burning gore-spattered scrap.
Goemon crouches where he landed for a few more moments, eyes once again closed, returning to that state of meditative presence that allows him to wield the all-slicing blade with such insane skill. Then he rises and runs to where Nessa has pulled the car over ...
And stops a good several feet away, blushing like a stoplight. Good ol' Goemon. Doesn't even bat an eye at a fully loaded Blackhawk, but a carful of women terrifies the living shit out of him.
"Aw c'mon, Goemon-chan," I say, leaping out of the car to cajole him on neutral territory. "The girls totally promise not to bite. Don't you, girls?"
"Hell, I only bite when asked," laughs Nessa. Lola shushes her as Goemon blushes even more deeply.
"Ishikawa Goemon-sama." Lola leans out the window, speaking with the regal graciousness only a belle of the American Southeast can pull off. "I thank you for your gallant rescue, and would be honored if you would ride with us and accept hospitality at our humble safehouse. And Nessa here promises to be a good girl and keep her smart-ass comments to herself on the ride over. Don't you, Nessa?" She gives Nessa a significant look.
"Yes ma'am," says Nessa with mock schoolgirl contriteness. Now it's me who can't restrain myself from a fit of giggles. Goemon ignores it; he's used to such goofiness out of me by now.
He turns to face Lola and gives her a stiffly formal bow. "I accept," he grunts. I'm impressed -- that's the most verbiage I've heard a female stranger get out of Goemon in some time.
Nonetheless, I make sure to put myself between Lola and Goemon in the back seat. "Awwww, mom," I crow as Nessa puts Da Bitch in gear, "how come I always have to ride in the middle?"
Jigen snorts. "Now children, don't make us have to pull this car over."
"Yes, dad." I put my right arm around Lola and cuddle her up against me; she settles her head into the hollow of my shoulder with an amused smile. To my left I feel rather than hear Goemon let out a little sigh. He has closed his eyes and dropped back into meditation mode again, Zantetsuken cradled against his left shoulder, but there's still a little tinge of blush attempting to fight its way across his face. Okay, okay, Goemon-chan, I'll try to keep it in my pants until we reach our destination. But after that, all bets (and hopefully clothes) are off, man.
************************
We drive up into the mountains forming the western boundary of the Las Vegas Valley. As we climb away from the desert floor up the two-lane switchbacked road, we transition into a wetter, greener ecosystem -- the fragrance of pinon pine envelopes the car, night birds and bats flit through the star-packed sky, and in the still wilderness night you can hear the faint chatter of a running stream.
Nessa finally turns off the main road into a gravel drive, that rolls through pinon groves until it brings us to a small fenced compound. Inside is a classic American double-wide mobile home, a big old Quonsett hut, a rather ramshackle barn, and a horse paddock. Damn, I haven't ridden in forever, I think with a sudden pang of yearning.
"Here you are, man, trailer park chic at its finest." Nessa pulls up in front of the double-wide.
"Hey, at least you don't have any wheelless cars up on cinder blocks in the front yard." I mug at her. Yes, I know, I'm so incorrigible -- I'm already on a hot trajectory with one woman and I still can't resist flirting with my buddy's date.
"Dawlin', if you'd have come by our yard six months ago you'd have seen one of those for sure." It's now my turn to get The Look from Lola. Whoa. Um. Definitely feel my leash being yanked here ... and wow, it definitely feels gooooood. Yes ma'am, anything you say. I be a good boy now. Can I have my treat soon?
We troop on into the mobile, and have ourselves a few drinks to unwind -- even Goemon consents to partake when Lola, with a wry smile, produces a bottle of sake from her refrigerator. (Hmmm ... not the kind of booze you'd normally expect in an American household. Another coincidence? File that thought for now ...)
But as the hour grows later our chaste samurai bids us a typically stiff good night and goes off to sleep in the barn. Ah, Goemon. Much prefering the restful sounds of sleeping horses to the steamy sounds of love I for one intend to start making in very short order.
(To be continued ...)
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