While I was in Japan, I got a phone call from a guy. Told me he needed to see me, that there was something we needed to talk about. Promised it'd be worth my while, but couldn't give out any details. I agreed, and he hung up in a hurry. Great, a mystery just when I thought I had a vacation on my hands.
The next morning, the rain fell with a sad resignation. People huddled under awnings and traveled in groups to avoid the rain. I walked the lonely path to the Akihabara Gundam Cafe, and waited for Mr. Secrecy. It was easy enough to spot him: another foreigner caught in the sea of Japan.
I walked out of there with Jet Stream Attack chicken in my belly, and a booklet full of papers. My next assignment was underway, and I know I'd have to keep my wits about me if I didn't want it to be my last.
Now I'm back in the States, alive and breathing. Almost came back in a body bag, but that's a tale for another time. Now that my life is back together, I'm looking to make something of myself. Too bad for me, though, that Mr. Secrecy shot me another message.
This time, we're meeting at night. I'll need a White MS, not a Haro Latte.
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