Azabu Jubaan was always going to rate high on the 'weirdometer' in Japan, along with Nerima and Kanagawa, even before the Sailor Senshi turned up. The residents of the district knew it, at some level, so they took all sorts of weirdness in their stride.
Which probably explains why no one came to investigate when, on a moonlit August night, an alleyway behind the TV studio disgorged a man who hadn't entered it, in any normal way.
The man, dressed from head to toe in a black suit, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead, tipping back the dark uniform cap he wore. He looked down as a newspaper blew into his leg, and picked it up. Scanning the paper for a moment, he nodded, and pulled what looked like a silver fountain pen from his pocket. When he clicked it, a blue light illuminated his face, revealing a young, fairly unremarkable European man, but with old eyes...
"Control, this is Agent 5896, reporting in. Location: Tokyo, Japan, Earth. Date: August 13th, AD 1988 Gregorian." His voice was calm, with a faint British Home Counties accent.
"Confirmed, 5896. Stand by for orders." A feminine Mid-Atlantic voice responded. There was a pause for a few seconds before the voice came back. "Agent 5896, I have your orders. Your current S/T zone is the centre of a Class III inter-dimensional conflict. Your orders are to investigate and observe. Do not, repeat, do not invervene in the conflict unless you are strictly ordered to."
"Roger that, Control. Orders recieved and understood." the man said. "Do we have any assets in this zone?"
"Negative, 5896. Looks like you're on your own."
"Terrific..." he muttered. "Understood Control. Will set up BOO and report once I've settled in."
"Very well, 5896." Control responded. And, Jim? Watch out for yourself, ok?" she added, a note of motherly concern in her voice.
"I will, Control. Thanks. Clarke out." the man switched of the device and sighed.
"Dear Control... she does worry so..." The man chuckled, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a silver-coloured tin, which had the name "JAMES WARREN CLARKE" stamped on the lid. He opened the case, and pulled out what looked like a cigarette, before placing it back in his pocket. Slipping the cigarette between his lips, he walked out into the street, and looked up and down.
Now in the light, his appereance was more obvious. For some bizarre reason, he wore a black three-piece suit, with a shiny cap. On the cap was a strange brass badge, painted tangerine-orange, that read "BRITISH RAILWAYS". His brown hair was cut short under his cap, with a small moustache on his lip, and fog-grey eyes. Cupping his hands around the cigarette, Jim Clarke took a long inhalation.
"Honestly, these fake cigarettes are brilliant..." he muttered, as he pulled a brass fob watch from his pocket, and checked the time. "Hmm... A little before six a.m.... I should go and spy out the lay of the land. Not to mention find some breakfast." he added with a chuckle, as he exhaled tobacco smoke.
A few minutes after he walked off down the road, a brief light display occured in the alley that he'd appeared from. A tall, green haired woman with maroon eyes, and dressed in white and black examined the area. Her lips curled into an expression of irritation.
"Oh, no. Not again....." she said, before vanishing once more.
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Which probably explains why no one came to investigate when, on a moonlit August night, an alleyway behind the TV studio disgorged a man who hadn't entered it, in any normal way.
The man, dressed from head to toe in a black suit, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead, tipping back the dark uniform cap he wore. He looked down as a newspaper blew into his leg, and picked it up. Scanning the paper for a moment, he nodded, and pulled what looked like a silver fountain pen from his pocket. When he clicked it, a blue light illuminated his face, revealing a young, fairly unremarkable European man, but with old eyes...
"Control, this is Agent 5896, reporting in. Location: Tokyo, Japan, Earth. Date: August 13th, AD 1988 Gregorian." His voice was calm, with a faint British Home Counties accent.
"Confirmed, 5896. Stand by for orders." A feminine Mid-Atlantic voice responded. There was a pause for a few seconds before the voice came back. "Agent 5896, I have your orders. Your current S/T zone is the centre of a Class III inter-dimensional conflict. Your orders are to investigate and observe. Do not, repeat, do not invervene in the conflict unless you are strictly ordered to."
"Roger that, Control. Orders recieved and understood." the man said. "Do we have any assets in this zone?"
"Negative, 5896. Looks like you're on your own."
"Terrific..." he muttered. "Understood Control. Will set up BOO and report once I've settled in."
"Very well, 5896." Control responded. And, Jim? Watch out for yourself, ok?" she added, a note of motherly concern in her voice.
"I will, Control. Thanks. Clarke out." the man switched of the device and sighed.
"Dear Control... she does worry so..." The man chuckled, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a silver-coloured tin, which had the name "JAMES WARREN CLARKE" stamped on the lid. He opened the case, and pulled out what looked like a cigarette, before placing it back in his pocket. Slipping the cigarette between his lips, he walked out into the street, and looked up and down.
Now in the light, his appereance was more obvious. For some bizarre reason, he wore a black three-piece suit, with a shiny cap. On the cap was a strange brass badge, painted tangerine-orange, that read "BRITISH RAILWAYS". His brown hair was cut short under his cap, with a small moustache on his lip, and fog-grey eyes. Cupping his hands around the cigarette, Jim Clarke took a long inhalation.
"Honestly, these fake cigarettes are brilliant..." he muttered, as he pulled a brass fob watch from his pocket, and checked the time. "Hmm... A little before six a.m.... I should go and spy out the lay of the land. Not to mention find some breakfast." he added with a chuckle, as he exhaled tobacco smoke.
A few minutes after he walked off down the road, a brief light display occured in the alley that he'd appeared from. A tall, green haired woman with maroon eyes, and dressed in white and black examined the area. Her lips curled into an expression of irritation.
"Oh, no. Not again....." she said, before vanishing once more.
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