Yakuza Cleaner Novels & Stories

Andreas introduces me, and this is where they turn around. The Eastern scents now made sense to me; they’re Japanese. The older male steps forward; he looks perfectly polished in an expensive suit, but I can sense a danger about him even as he tries to hide his tattoos: the slicked-back salt and pepper hair, the scars on the side of his face and knuckles. This man is Yakuza; I can tell by the way he tries to shoulder the weapons strapped to him. “Fenriz Vega, it is a pleasure to meet you finally.” He says in perfect English with a faint Kanto accent and steps forward with his arm outstretched. “Tsukishima Kaen.”

I swat his hand away, clasp the bottle, and place it in front of me under the table so he doesn't have access to it. Even though he’s sitting still, his eyes are shifty and agitated. I’m ready to bet it’s because of whatever seed Pharaoah planted in his head back at the house. The door slides open again; this time, it's not the waitress. Kai walks in, followed by an old, short man who wears a pressed suit. Abe Hitori. The leader of the Yakuza branch in New York. Pharaoah and I stand in greeting, but Pakstan remains planted in place. He also uses the chance of my standing up to grab the bottle of vodka.

"You're just a poor fighter trying to enjoy swan meat by sampling our Clean Gorgon Guild's executive services. Don't you realize that your intended target is a Nine Star badged fighter? There are risks involved in the mission of finishing the witch!" Master Clean Gorgon's voice sounded very cold. This made Yama gasp. He knew he had made a mistake. There had to be a quick step he took, if he didn't want it to end fatally! "Get the hell out of my way before I slice off your tongue and limbs! Our Clean Gorgon doesn't need poor customers like a deck dog like you!"

he said with a wink. Petrov cleared his throat, his expression shifting back to the sharp, businesslike demeanor I knew so well. “I’ve already paid the Cleaners,” he said, his voice dropping low. “The Cleaners?” Tony asked, glancing between us. “You know,” I said, my tone flat, “the people who make problems disappear. Messes, bodies, evidence—they handle it all.” Petrov nodded, his face grim. “They’re taking care of the scene with Danzo. No trace left behind. But that’s not all.”

As the buzz-cut man shifted his coat, the matte flank of a compact SMG flashed. “YK8,” Jake murmured. “Top-of-the-line. Lightweight. Fast. These guys are hunting something.” The bathroom door banged. A skinny man in office blues stumbled out—face pale, eyes wrong, body wired tight. The bald operator stood in one fluid motion. “EVERYONE DOWN!” he roared, swinging the YK8 up. The skinny man twitched, throat rumbling into something inhuman. Jake shoved Kim and Jane under the table. “Down—now!”

Well, well… this changes everything. I stood at my office window overlooking Manhattan’s magnificent skyline, like a predator examining his territory. Except that it wasn’t completely mine yet. Not until Alexander was out of the way. My phone buzzed. Without looking, I responded. “Speak.” “The Yakuza want their balance by month’s end,” came the chilly voice of Kenji, my contact in Tokyo. “Or they’ll take what you love most.” I clinched my teeth, squeezing the phone closer. “I said I’d have it.”

I stand over him, breathing hard, as four Yakuza soldiers come rushing over from the bar with guns leveled. I stare at them and show my teeth. Their leader, a man named Bob Tanaka, shakes his head. "You're a fucking mess, Khazan." "If you had left a gun like I wanted, this would've been cleaner." "Guns are loud. Look at my carpet! What a goddamn mess." "I need to wash my hands." "Yeah, yeah." Bob waves me away. "Go take care of yourself. Ah, what a fucking wreck." He barks orders in Japanese to his soldiers as I return to the back room.

A few short moments later, there was the sound of several gunshots and screams, and all was then quiet. Find your way out of your cage. And if you can’t find an exit, make one. ‘Easy for you to say.’ Ren thought to himself. [1] Yakuza: Yakuza is also known as gokudo, and they are members of traditional organised criminal syndicates in Japan

Who would have thought they would be so useless that it didn't take Lysander over 20 minutes to get rid of them? He drove out while the man he had called arrived at this scene. They were the cleaners he had been using for jobs like these over the years. He employed them to clean up the mess made by the pathetic humans he employed. They clean up tracks so well that Lysander or anyone else tracking him couldn't get them. He called his second-hand man the next.

"Beatrice Lee, known as the Chinese Dragon. Her lover was MJ's ex." "Thank you." He hung up as he put Beatrice Lee's name on the list and sent it to his Cleaners. The Cleaners are also agents that have been drugged but they have smaller doses than he received. He saved them after breaking through their laboratory. Now, they are working for him as his watchdogs and hackers. In a few minutes, they sent the location to him. She's not moving but he won't let it slide. He went back to MJ's room and hugged her from behind.