I wake up to the loud screeching of an alarm, tearing me away from the comfort and serenity of my condominium. After hitting the snooze button for the third time, I decide that I delayed the inevitable long enough and check the time. In bright, digital text, the time read “7:36”. “Still too early” I grunted underneath my breath. In my half-awaken state, I drag across the carpeted floor and shuffle towards the bathroom. Once I reached my destination, I grab my toothbrush, squeeze out what little toothpaste I have left on to it, and proceed into the shower. In my line of work, multitasking is of equal importance to breathing, so this morning ritual is second nature to me. Contemplating if I wanted to take a hot shower or freeze to death, I ultimately choose the former. After finishing my shower and eating a raw Pop-tart, I realize that sitting on my couch naked watching anime will not help me in any way, shape or form. I stand in front of the living room mirror, admiring my muscular but slim build. It’s quite the accomplishment maintaining this figure at the age of 34, but i’m just that good. I turn around to examine my tattoo, a parody of the comedy and tragedy mask pair, replacing them with the hannya and akuma mask, along with other designs such as flowers, fish, and a dragon that do not have a real definition to them but do look intimidating. Courtesy of the Yamaguchi-gumi, the tattoos only cover my back in order to keep my affiliations with the yakuza secret, allowing me to keep the cover of being a regular loan-shark. I get dressed in a suit, leaving the top two buttons undo and rolling up the sleeves, and head towards the garage.
Inside sits a white mercedes benz, taken from a rich kid who couldn’t keep track of his debts and failed to realize that you can’t escape only mommy and daddy’s yacht. With the flip of a switch, the garage door slides open and lets in the light of the sun and the cozy air of Honolulu. I start the car and head towards the office. The drive normally takes around 20-25 minutes, assuming I don’t stop by a food place to get an actual breakfast. The building is nothing fancy, 12 stories, a parking lot, basically all the necessities of an office building. My office sit on the 12th floor, offering a lovely view of the neighboring building’s 12th floor. Upon entering the building, I am greeted by Jon at the security desk.
“Hey Mr. Taisho” said jon with a smile that screamed innocence, lighting up the room and would make the most callous person’s heart melt.
 “Sup Jon, how's life treating you?”
“Same old same old”
“Has Emmy come in yet?”
“ Yeah, she was carri-”
“ Alright Jon see yeah later”, I interrupted him mid speech in order to stop him from asking about the package because as they say “Curiosity killed the cat” whoever they may be.
The elevator opens up smoothly after a short wait as I step in. I wave to Jon and lean back against the wall of the elevator. Jon is a 25 year old norwegian who look like he’s 18. Blond hair, blue eyes, handsome, basically the most innocent looking person you could think of. and you would be right to assume nothing is wrong with him. In the 2 years Jon has worked here, i haven’t once heard a single curse word out of him let alone shout at someone. one time wa homeless man stumbled into the building and decided to sleep. The other office workers wanted to call the police and I offered to “take care of him” but Jon actually took care of him. he  called the homeless shelter and drove him all the way there. I asked him why and he said that he was talking to him and learned he was a veteran. after witnessing something like that one must wonder what company a man like that keeps.
The elevator opened up with a satisfying ding and as I step out i walk to the end of the hallway. The door to my office reads “ AKURA TASHIO” and underneath it “CREDITOR”. I always considered myself better than a banker in the sense that I don’t judge people by their credit score but their profitability. Whether the client needs a start up for a company, needs  to get out of a jam quickly, or for some completely nonsensical reason, if there is something to be made out of it, I’m willing to put money on it. As I open the door, I’m greeted by the smile of Emmy Ekewaka, a local of Honolulu, sitting up in order to portud her brests. She is very attractive, hourglass figure with the stomach of a hula dancer, gentle green eyes, tan skin. To others she would seem like the perfect women but in my eyes she’s a 5/10. the reason for this being the first time we met.
“Mor- oh it you.” the smile died as quickly as it appeared, showing how much of a facade the entire greeting would have been. She slouched down into the cushioned chair and took her hands off of the desk.
“You could at least finish the rehearsed greeting, what if there was was a client behind me?”
“Is there a client behind you?”
“No”
“Then it would be pointless to say the greeting.” Her logic was rude but not wrong.
“Alright, alright, where did you put the package?”
“Where do you think?”
“Fine,  I’ll go to my room”
“Bye”
As I walked by, I stole a glance at the monitor on Emmy’s desk. I had hoped she was working or at the very least had a blank window excel sheet open, instead I see she is on twitter.
“Emmy, you could at least pretend to work” I knew that this statement would fall upon deaf ears but I did not expect to be outright ignored.
Although our freindship is not as strong as I would like it to be, the trust between us is large than life. However this is not by choice.
Almost a year ago i found out about one of the members under my supervision was stealing money in the smuggling ring. Normally i would have sent someone to take care of it but if a goon found out about the reason why, that goon my try to do the same, causing a chain reaction. Thus the only solution would be to take care of it myself. To this day I regret that decision. As I approach his apartment, I can hear an argument.
“Must be his girlfriend”
I had the idea to kick down the door and scare the shit out of both the target and the girlfriend before killing them. I regretted doing that the second after i did it. My assumption was that it would open after one kick but instead it stayed strong. the arguing stopped so I realized I was found out and there was no way to back out now. It took 4 more kick to open and by then my leg hurt like shit. the scene presented in front of me was one that could not be explained easily. On the ground laid my target, knife in head, a table flipped over towards the door, with a girl having me at gunpoint. This girl was Emmy. After what felt like an eternity of silence and waiting for the other to make a move, she spoke.
“What do you want faggot?”
“Now that's not very-”
“WHAT DO YOU WANT?!” she screamed impatiently
“Okay jeez, I’m here to kill that guy” I pointed to the corpse on the ground, “but it seems that's already been taken care of so i’m just going to-”
“ Your ass isn’t going anywhere”
“Okay i’m not going anywhere” I said obediently in order to not anger the one in a position of power
“ I killed this asshole”
“I can see that”
“ and you're going to help me get rid of the body”
“Do I have to?”
“The alternative is to get shoot”
“ めんどくさい, fine i’ll help, first you should change out of those clothes”
“Don’t tell me what to do”
“ oh i’m sorry do you want to walk around covered in the blood of your victim”
Without a seconds pause she responded with yes. I could already tell she hated me because of how stubborn she was in listening to my advice. We drove for around 30 minutes towards one of the warehouse that was part of “The Shed” as we stored everything in there. From drugs to guns to even fake money, we stored it all in the Shed. The Shed was not one warehouse but a network of places; warehouses, storage lockers, cargo containers, even abandoned trucks on the side of a random building, all of them were the Shed. This was in order to confuse the police if someone was arrested, giving up a dud in order to protect the real merchandise. These duds were filled with corpses, and the man in my trunk was going to be added onto it. Every other time, the other members would take care of this but seeing as how I was held at gunpoint, time was of the essence. We dragged the body to one of the trucks and I prayed that the others didn’t start filling this one up. As I dreaded, when we opened the back of the truck the disgusting smell of blood and rot hit like a train. While Emmy was dry heaving in the corner, I threw the body in and closed the door, ending the horrible experience.
“Why are there so many bodies?” Emmy asked in a monotone voice, staring blankly at the ground
“ I don’t know, failed drug deal, undercover cop, there are a number of reasons” I said trying to keep my lunch in my stomach.
After failing at this, I looked over to Emmy. I expected her to be on the verge