[Viewfinder fic] Traffic - Parts I-II
Dec. 2nd, 2009 12:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
petroniaTitle: Traffic
Series:Viewfinder
Characters/Pairings: eventual Asami x Takaba, but this section is all Feilong
Rating: PG for drug and crime references (eventual R for violence, drug use, language, and sexuality)
Disclaimer: Feilong, Tao, Takaba, Kou, Asami's goons and Asami himself were created by and belong to Yamane Ayano. All the rest are OCs.
Spoilers: Set some months before the Naked Truth arc, immediately before the New Year's Eve one-shot.
Notes: The structure is loosely inspired by the Soderbergh film Traffic, hence the title. It's basically a straight-up attempt to fill in the seinen gangland thriller lurking in the background of the manga, where the foreground is the Asami-Takaba-Feilong triangle of course.
This story is now complete in 7 parts. I'll be posting the rest at the rate of 1-2 chapters per day. My sincerest thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sub_divided who betaed the whole thing, including the parts that have been knocking around my LJ since 2006, and marej, who provided extensive and helpful comments back in selfsame 2006. XD;
Traffic
Liu Fei Long, age 28
Chairman, LTG Holdings Co. Ltd., Hong Kong S.A.R.
Sam Leung was both greying and balding. Fei Long currently had an excellent view of the progress of these twin conditions. The top of the kneeling man's head shone under the lamplight, surrounded by a ring of hair like scraggly winter brush.
"Really, Uncle Leung," he said, "get up."
Leung did not move. Fei Long nodded at one of his lieutenants, who approached the older man and tapped him on the shoulder, not ungently, before attempting to lift him by the elbow. Leung allowed himself to be maneuvred into a chair, stiff as an arthritic. His normally sallow complexion had lost a further shade of health.
Fei Long adjusted the angle of his teacup lid. The tiny clink of china against china was readily audible: the room was still, but for breathing.
"I can't begin to contemplate what you were thinking," he said. "You're of an age to sit back and relax, surely? Let your nephews tend to the day-to-day affairs, go to the horse races, lose a few hands of baccarat in Macau..."
Silence.
"Was the money worth it?"
Leung whispered something under his breath. Fei Long waited. Eventually Leung repeated himself, in a louder voice that still trembled.
"Forgive me..."
There was movement in the periphery of Fei Long's vision. One or two of his directors were taking a lively interest in the floor near their feet; the rest remained stiff and stony-faced. He sighed.
"Outsourcing, Uncle Leung. The mainlanders and the Burmese manufacture, we put up the funds. The cutting houses supply only the local market: the less merchandise transships Hong Kong the better. I can't think of anyone who should understand the principle better than you. And yet here you are, setting up a factory in the New Territories.
"Did you honestly assume you would escape notice simply because you were moving product overseas? Ten thousand units followed by... what? Did you consider what the Japanese buyers had in mind? Who takes responsibility if your deal triggers a war between the Yokohama organizations and their backers? Do I inform our Tokyo contacts that this was part of our business plan, we simply didn't feel the need to consult them on their home turf?"
Leung looked as if he were about to faint. Fei Long took a sip of tea. After a few seconds he added, gazing into his cup, "It is not only a question of fiscal liability. It is a question of trust."
Leung fell forward out of his chair, onto hands and knees. The movement was comical; no one laughed or tried to help him up.
"Forgive me," he babbled. "It was a mistake. The profit margin – I thought—"
Fei Long watched him in silence, absently running a finger over the edge of his cup. Eventually Leung ran out of stuttered excuses. He made a movement toward Fei Long's chair, a desperate, groping gesture. A fleeting expression of distaste crossed Fei Long's face, and he moved his foot away from Leung's reaching hand. Leung froze.
"You are relieved of your responsibilities toward the organisation," said Fei Long, slowly. "The management of your clubs will pass to Leung Kar-Sing, and the rest of the Leung group's assets will be redistributed accordingly. In view of your long service to the Liu family there will be no further punishment." He gazed down into Leung's face for a long moment – the man did not look relieved, far from it – then turned to the soldiers standing at attention behind him. "Please escort Mr. Leung from the premises."
When the door closed there was a muted but general exhalation of relief, and a certain amount of shifting in seats and wiping of faces. A couple of Leung's close cohorts looked green at the gills. He noted them as instances of a public lesson learnt; there was no evidence anyone but Leung was set to benefit from the deal in question.
Instead he said to the room at large, "When a man is found to be at fault, he should always be given a second chance to prove himself. What do you think of this principle?"
"Someone who betrays once will do so again at his convenience," said Wong Jian, a weapons trader. "And in Leung's case – for what?"
"Not mere shortsighted greed, if that's what you mean," said Fatty Mok from his favorite position near the lacquered screen. "He has ambition for those boys of his, whether or not they have any of their own. Why, Kar-Sing or Jonny could well rule Mongkok nightlife at the tender age of twenty-five—"
Someone gave a derisive snort.
"—If all they lack are the funds to buy out the opposition," Mok finished with a gleeful flourish, and leant back in his chair. "Blood runs thicker than gold, my friends. Nepotism will be the death of us all."
"Enough," said Fei Long, meeting Mok's eyes across the room. "The meeting is over."
Leavetaking took place with the usual amount of ceremony. Mok lingered, polishing his spectacles with a soft cloth and fussing with the case. He was known as a fixer, a Baishe associate of long standing – one of the aides who had had the elder Liu's ear before his death – and among the first to support Fei Long in the power struggle that ensued, though no one had ever caught him favoring one candidate over another beforehand.
When the rest of the directors had left the room Fei Long set his tea cup down and nodded to Tao, seated on a stool in the corner. The boy immediately approached and removed the tray. After the door had closed behind him Fei Long said, "Do you believe Kar-Sing was the impetus behind this deal?"
"I believe Kar-Sing to have more wit than to make a play from his position," said Mok. "He has his eye on the long haul. And he'll keep Jonny and the others in check." Fei Long nodded.
"I want it kept quiet," he said. "Give it a month."
"Natural and unrelated, I assure you," said Mok. "What is Sam Leung without his clubs and his hostesses? I doubt his heart will take the strain." He hauled his corpulence out of his chair. "What of the deal itself, in the meantime? Does the white snake ride the trade wind while it's fair?"
Fei Long remained silent for a few moments, thinking. Mok waited. Finally Fei Long said, "Get me the factory manager. I'd like to see what convinced Leung to take the plunge."
Winston Tse Hsu-Ping, age 25
Ph.D. candidate (medicinal chemistry), Hong Kong University of Science and Technology, Hong Kong S.A.R.
The door buzzed open. Winston swung his feet off the table and sat up, setting down his notes.
The men who entered were not ones he expected. He recognized the one with the slicked-back hair as a frequent background hoverer during Leung's visits – more secretary than bodyguard, he thought. Another was obviously muscle. The third had narrow eyes in a narrow, tanned face. The face looked bored, the eyes did not.
"What is it?" he said, addressing Slick-Hair. "I have a schedule to follow." The man found a source of inspiration in the periodic table pinned to the wall. It was the third man who answered:
"We're taking you to see someone."
"Mr. Leung?"
"Mr. Leung is no longer in charge of this operation. Bring samples of the merchandise."
Winston stared at him for a second, then stood up, went to the grey cabinet, and unlocked it. One of the shelves held three beakers, each half filled with pills. He took two from each beaker, placing each pair in a two-by-two-inch zip-locked plastic bag.
"Fine," he said. "Let's go."
***
He expected an excursion to a warehousing facility (the worst case scenario being a construction site sand pit), but an hour later he found himself being ushered down a tastefully-lit corridor on the first basement parking level of a Hong Kong Island skyscraper.
It was not an office building. The corridor was set with ornately framed, floor-to-ceiling mirrors in which he caught glimpses of himself half-hidden between two taller, dark-suited men (Slick-Hair had disappeared in the interim). The expanse of recursive reflections was punctuated by elevator doors. Each elevator - Winston estimated - serviced one or two suites per floor only, isolating the inhabitants from each other insofar as it was possible.
He counted ten elevators. It was a long corridor.
The eleventh and last elevator featured a card reader. The narrow-eyed man retrieved a magnetic key card from his breast pocket and swiped it before punching the single available floor button (P5).
The ride did not take a long time, but it made Winston feel queasy.
Two burly men sat around a card table in the foyer. They wore dark suits and had wires hanging out of their ears. They looked up when the elevator doors opened.
"We're expected," said Narrow-Eyes. One of the men said something into his mouthpiece and nodded. The other one got up and patted Winston down with the efficiency of an afterhours club bouncer.
"What are these?" he asked.
"Samples," said Winston.
"He was told to bring them," said Narrow-Eyes.
The first man unlocked and pulled open a metal security gate with a clatter. At the same time the door behind it was opened, from the inside.
"Please come in," said the boy. He was perhaps ten or twelve, dressed in old-fashioned embroidered silks, with a fresh-faced look Winston found jarring. "Master Fei is expecting you."
***
Winston wasn't expecting Master Fei.
He knew the name Liu Fei Long but not much more (excessive knowledge or the appearance thereof was generally not construed in his interest). He imagined someone like Sam Leung; a little younger and less greasy, perhaps, a little more obviously intelligent. He didn't think—
Had there ever been a Canto-pop star turned matinée idol more unbelievable in the role of Triad leader?
Even a female Canto-pop star?
Liu Fei Long looked him up and down, a flicker of perfect, almond-shaped dark eyes. Something about his gaze made Winston feel small and awkward and exposed. A pinky mouse, he thought – lovingly defrosted and dropped into a garter snake's aquarium. He kept his face still, but his hands curled into fists at his sides.
Liu must have noticed. He smiled slightly; the effect was stunning.
"So you're Tse Hsu-Ping," he said. "You've caused a fair amount of excitement. Do you have the samples?"
Winston took the zip bags out of his pocket. Narrow-Eyes appeared by his side, took the samples and carried them over to Liu, laying them in a row on the ornately carved teak side table beside Liu's chair. It was a distance of less than three meters.
"Tell me," said Liu. "What do these do?"
Winston took a breath. "The blue tablet with a diamond imprint contains 35mg caffeine, 40mg methamphetamine—"
Leung would have told him to answer the fucking question: what does it do, not what did you put in it. Liu allowed him to recite his entire list. Halfway through the enumeration of the third formula he opened the sample bag in question, shook out one of the pills and held it up to the light.
"The blue diamond," he said when Winston was done, "keeps the user in an alert and hyper-focussed state for a period of several hours, with comparatively negligeable side effects. The yellow butterfly is an euphoric relaxant. And this pink one—" he rolled it between thumb and forefinger. "There is a liquid form of this that can be administered intravenously. It has... interesting effects."
"It can also be inhaled," said Winston. "It was difficult to fixate for oral dosage."
"Indeed," said Liu, glancing up at him. It was an amused look. "Do you assess all your creditors in this fashion?"
Liu had understood. He found himself unsurprised. "I feel more comfortable if I know whom I'm working for."
"If they're aware enough to appreciate your worth, you mean."
Winston was silent.
"Since I now hold your debt I've looked into the repayment schedule you previously were on with Sam Leung," said Liu. He leant forward in his chair, loops of dark hair shifting over his shoulder. "I applaud your sense of filial piety."
Winston laughed sharply. It sounded bitter even to himself. "Filial piety has nothing to do with it. I would have let you take the store and the flat if that would've been the end of it, but unfortunately I know how to add. You would have come after me anyway."
"The generic you, I hope," said Liu. "And, of course, with your father dead and the family business gone it would have been extremely difficult to finance your further education. But you made Leung see an investment with a sure expectation of return. No, not entirely a shortsighted fool."
The tone of voice made it clear. Remember to whom you speak.
Winston reminded himself to breathe. "What do you mean to do with me?" he asked finally.
"Very little that has not already been done," said Liu. "You will produce the next shipment as stipulated by Leung, but you will do it for me. I've raised your theoretical salary to slightly above the industry norm. As for your own ongoing arrangement—" he smiled that slight smile again. "Understand that your abilities are keenly appreciated."
***
Leung demanded "samples" on a frequent basis and always kept them. Liu returned them to Winston at the conclusion of the interview. Later that evening he dumped the contents of each bag back into its respective beaker, taking care not to touch.
Then he got down to work.
Parts III-IV
Series:Viewfinder
Characters/Pairings: eventual Asami x Takaba, but this section is all Feilong
Rating: PG for drug and crime references (eventual R for violence, drug use, language, and sexuality)
Disclaimer: Feilong, Tao, Takaba, Kou, Asami's goons and Asami himself were created by and belong to Yamane Ayano. All the rest are OCs.
Spoilers: Set some months before the Naked Truth arc, immediately before the New Year's Eve one-shot.
Notes: The structure is loosely inspired by the Soderbergh film Traffic, hence the title. It's basically a straight-up attempt to fill in the seinen gangland thriller lurking in the background of the manga, where the foreground is the Asami-Takaba-Feilong triangle of course.
This story is now complete in 7 parts. I'll be posting the rest at the rate of 1-2 chapters per day. My sincerest thanks to
sub_divided who betaed the whole thing, including the parts that have been knocking around my LJ since 2006, and marej, who provided extensive and helpful comments back in selfsame 2006. XD;Traffic
Liu Fei Long, age 28
Chairman, LTG Holdings Co. Ltd., Hong Kong S.A.R.
Sam Leung was both greying and balding. Fei Long currently had an excellent view of the progress of these twin conditions. The top of the kneeling man's head shone under the lamplight, surrounded by a ring of hair like scraggly winter brush.
"Really, Uncle Leung," he said, "get up."
Leung did not move. Fei Long nodded at one of his lieutenants, who approached the older man and tapped him on the shoulder, not ungently, before attempting to lift him by the elbow. Leung allowed himself to be maneuvred into a chair, stiff as an arthritic. His normally sallow complexion had lost a further shade of health.
Fei Long adjusted the angle of his teacup lid. The tiny clink of china against china was readily audible: the room was still, but for breathing.
"I can't begin to contemplate what you were thinking," he said. "You're of an age to sit back and relax, surely? Let your nephews tend to the day-to-day affairs, go to the horse races, lose a few hands of baccarat in Macau..."
Silence.
"Was the money worth it?"
Leung whispered something under his breath. Fei Long waited. Eventually Leung repeated himself, in a louder voice that still trembled.
"Forgive me..."
There was movement in the periphery of Fei Long's vision. One or two of his directors were taking a lively interest in the floor near their feet; the rest remained stiff and stony-faced. He sighed.
"Outsourcing, Uncle Leung. The mainlanders and the Burmese manufacture, we put up the funds. The cutting houses supply only the local market: the less merchandise transships Hong Kong the better. I can't think of anyone who should understand the principle better than you. And yet here you are, setting up a factory in the New Territories.
"Did you honestly assume you would escape notice simply because you were moving product overseas? Ten thousand units followed by... what? Did you consider what the Japanese buyers had in mind? Who takes responsibility if your deal triggers a war between the Yokohama organizations and their backers? Do I inform our Tokyo contacts that this was part of our business plan, we simply didn't feel the need to consult them on their home turf?"
Leung looked as if he were about to faint. Fei Long took a sip of tea. After a few seconds he added, gazing into his cup, "It is not only a question of fiscal liability. It is a question of trust."
Leung fell forward out of his chair, onto hands and knees. The movement was comical; no one laughed or tried to help him up.
"Forgive me," he babbled. "It was a mistake. The profit margin – I thought—"
Fei Long watched him in silence, absently running a finger over the edge of his cup. Eventually Leung ran out of stuttered excuses. He made a movement toward Fei Long's chair, a desperate, groping gesture. A fleeting expression of distaste crossed Fei Long's face, and he moved his foot away from Leung's reaching hand. Leung froze.
"You are relieved of your responsibilities toward the organisation," said Fei Long, slowly. "The management of your clubs will pass to Leung Kar-Sing, and the rest of the Leung group's assets will be redistributed accordingly. In view of your long service to the Liu family there will be no further punishment." He gazed down into Leung's face for a long moment – the man did not look relieved, far from it – then turned to the soldiers standing at attention behind him. "Please escort Mr. Leung from the premises."
When the door closed there was a muted but general exhalation of relief, and a certain amount of shifting in seats and wiping of faces. A couple of Leung's close cohorts looked green at the gills. He noted them as instances of a public lesson learnt; there was no evidence anyone but Leung was set to benefit from the deal in question.
Instead he said to the room at large, "When a man is found to be at fault, he should always be given a second chance to prove himself. What do you think of this principle?"
"Someone who betrays once will do so again at his convenience," said Wong Jian, a weapons trader. "And in Leung's case – for what?"
"Not mere shortsighted greed, if that's what you mean," said Fatty Mok from his favorite position near the lacquered screen. "He has ambition for those boys of his, whether or not they have any of their own. Why, Kar-Sing or Jonny could well rule Mongkok nightlife at the tender age of twenty-five—"
Someone gave a derisive snort.
"—If all they lack are the funds to buy out the opposition," Mok finished with a gleeful flourish, and leant back in his chair. "Blood runs thicker than gold, my friends. Nepotism will be the death of us all."
"Enough," said Fei Long, meeting Mok's eyes across the room. "The meeting is over."
Leavetaking took place with the usual amount of ceremony. Mok lingered, polishing his spectacles with a soft cloth and fussing with the case. He was known as a fixer, a Baishe associate of long standing – one of the aides who had had the elder Liu's ear before his death – and among the first to support Fei Long in the power struggle that ensued, though no one had ever caught him favoring one candidate over another beforehand.
When the rest of the directors had left the room Fei Long set his tea cup down and nodded to Tao, seated on a stool in the corner. The boy immediately approached and removed the tray. After the door had closed behind him Fei Long said, "Do you believe Kar-Sing was the impetus behind this deal?"
"I believe Kar-Sing to have more wit than to make a play from his position," said Mok. "He has his eye on the long haul. And he'll keep Jonny and the others in check." Fei Long nodded.
"I want it kept quiet," he said. "Give it a month."
"Natural and unrelated, I assure you," said Mok. "What is Sam Leung without his clubs and his hostesses? I doubt his heart will take the strain." He hauled his corpulence out of his chair. "What of the deal itself, in the meantime? Does the white snake ride the trade wind while it's fair?"
Fei Long remained silent for a few moments, thinking. Mok waited. Finally Fei Long said, "Get me the factory manager. I'd like to see what convinced Leung to take the plunge."
Winston Tse Hsu-Ping, age 25
Ph.D. candidate (medicinal chemistry), Hong Kong University of Science and Technology, Hong Kong S.A.R.
The door buzzed open. Winston swung his feet off the table and sat up, setting down his notes.
The men who entered were not ones he expected. He recognized the one with the slicked-back hair as a frequent background hoverer during Leung's visits – more secretary than bodyguard, he thought. Another was obviously muscle. The third had narrow eyes in a narrow, tanned face. The face looked bored, the eyes did not.
"What is it?" he said, addressing Slick-Hair. "I have a schedule to follow." The man found a source of inspiration in the periodic table pinned to the wall. It was the third man who answered:
"We're taking you to see someone."
"Mr. Leung?"
"Mr. Leung is no longer in charge of this operation. Bring samples of the merchandise."
Winston stared at him for a second, then stood up, went to the grey cabinet, and unlocked it. One of the shelves held three beakers, each half filled with pills. He took two from each beaker, placing each pair in a two-by-two-inch zip-locked plastic bag.
"Fine," he said. "Let's go."
He expected an excursion to a warehousing facility (the worst case scenario being a construction site sand pit), but an hour later he found himself being ushered down a tastefully-lit corridor on the first basement parking level of a Hong Kong Island skyscraper.
It was not an office building. The corridor was set with ornately framed, floor-to-ceiling mirrors in which he caught glimpses of himself half-hidden between two taller, dark-suited men (Slick-Hair had disappeared in the interim). The expanse of recursive reflections was punctuated by elevator doors. Each elevator - Winston estimated - serviced one or two suites per floor only, isolating the inhabitants from each other insofar as it was possible.
He counted ten elevators. It was a long corridor.
The eleventh and last elevator featured a card reader. The narrow-eyed man retrieved a magnetic key card from his breast pocket and swiped it before punching the single available floor button (P5).
The ride did not take a long time, but it made Winston feel queasy.
Two burly men sat around a card table in the foyer. They wore dark suits and had wires hanging out of their ears. They looked up when the elevator doors opened.
"We're expected," said Narrow-Eyes. One of the men said something into his mouthpiece and nodded. The other one got up and patted Winston down with the efficiency of an afterhours club bouncer.
"What are these?" he asked.
"Samples," said Winston.
"He was told to bring them," said Narrow-Eyes.
The first man unlocked and pulled open a metal security gate with a clatter. At the same time the door behind it was opened, from the inside.
"Please come in," said the boy. He was perhaps ten or twelve, dressed in old-fashioned embroidered silks, with a fresh-faced look Winston found jarring. "Master Fei is expecting you."
Winston wasn't expecting Master Fei.
He knew the name Liu Fei Long but not much more (excessive knowledge or the appearance thereof was generally not construed in his interest). He imagined someone like Sam Leung; a little younger and less greasy, perhaps, a little more obviously intelligent. He didn't think—
Had there ever been a Canto-pop star turned matinée idol more unbelievable in the role of Triad leader?
Even a female Canto-pop star?
Liu Fei Long looked him up and down, a flicker of perfect, almond-shaped dark eyes. Something about his gaze made Winston feel small and awkward and exposed. A pinky mouse, he thought – lovingly defrosted and dropped into a garter snake's aquarium. He kept his face still, but his hands curled into fists at his sides.
Liu must have noticed. He smiled slightly; the effect was stunning.
"So you're Tse Hsu-Ping," he said. "You've caused a fair amount of excitement. Do you have the samples?"
Winston took the zip bags out of his pocket. Narrow-Eyes appeared by his side, took the samples and carried them over to Liu, laying them in a row on the ornately carved teak side table beside Liu's chair. It was a distance of less than three meters.
"Tell me," said Liu. "What do these do?"
Winston took a breath. "The blue tablet with a diamond imprint contains 35mg caffeine, 40mg methamphetamine—"
Leung would have told him to answer the fucking question: what does it do, not what did you put in it. Liu allowed him to recite his entire list. Halfway through the enumeration of the third formula he opened the sample bag in question, shook out one of the pills and held it up to the light.
"The blue diamond," he said when Winston was done, "keeps the user in an alert and hyper-focussed state for a period of several hours, with comparatively negligeable side effects. The yellow butterfly is an euphoric relaxant. And this pink one—" he rolled it between thumb and forefinger. "There is a liquid form of this that can be administered intravenously. It has... interesting effects."
"It can also be inhaled," said Winston. "It was difficult to fixate for oral dosage."
"Indeed," said Liu, glancing up at him. It was an amused look. "Do you assess all your creditors in this fashion?"
Liu had understood. He found himself unsurprised. "I feel more comfortable if I know whom I'm working for."
"If they're aware enough to appreciate your worth, you mean."
Winston was silent.
"Since I now hold your debt I've looked into the repayment schedule you previously were on with Sam Leung," said Liu. He leant forward in his chair, loops of dark hair shifting over his shoulder. "I applaud your sense of filial piety."
Winston laughed sharply. It sounded bitter even to himself. "Filial piety has nothing to do with it. I would have let you take the store and the flat if that would've been the end of it, but unfortunately I know how to add. You would have come after me anyway."
"The generic you, I hope," said Liu. "And, of course, with your father dead and the family business gone it would have been extremely difficult to finance your further education. But you made Leung see an investment with a sure expectation of return. No, not entirely a shortsighted fool."
The tone of voice made it clear. Remember to whom you speak.
Winston reminded himself to breathe. "What do you mean to do with me?" he asked finally.
"Very little that has not already been done," said Liu. "You will produce the next shipment as stipulated by Leung, but you will do it for me. I've raised your theoretical salary to slightly above the industry norm. As for your own ongoing arrangement—" he smiled that slight smile again. "Understand that your abilities are keenly appreciated."
Leung demanded "samples" on a frequent basis and always kept them. Liu returned them to Winston at the conclusion of the interview. Later that evening he dumped the contents of each bag back into its respective beaker, taking care not to touch.
Then he got down to work.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2009-12-08 10:37 pm (UTC)I've been backdating these so my flist (who have been bothered enough with the thing probably) will see the compendium post with author's notes all at once.
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