His Regards


dajan_icon.gif juwariya_icon.gif mihaja_icon.gif

Scene Title His Regards
Synopsis An envoy from the sovereign nation of Madagascar arrive in the Safe Zone to conduct business with Yamagato Industries and receive a warm welcome.
Date June 3, 2019

Air ripples with the intense heat of a jet’s afterburner.

The sleek white jet taxiing across the runway bears a golden stripe from nose to tail and a series of geometric patterns that spin off of it and down the wings. The supersonic aircraft comes to a stop and a line of black SUVs from Yamagato Industries’ new ecofleet come up to part alongside the aircraft. From within one vehicle a Japanese woman in a black suit emerges, removing a pair of dark sunglasses as she assessed the plane thoughtfully.

The cabin door opens and a mechanical staircase unfolds from the side of the jet like a piece of aluminum origami. Two women stand in the cabin doorway, each dressed in loose black clothing trimmed with gold, beneath which they wear a fitted suit of body armor made from
Hematite-toned hexagon plates. The armor shimmers in the afternoon sunlight, their strides steady and certain. They come down to the base of the stairs just as they finish unfolding and move to either side, watching the Yamagato Envoy with attentive eyes.

From within the jet, a lone man of statuesque height and build in a matte black suit with floral patterns down one arm emerges from the jet, placing a pair of copper-framed sunglasses over his eyes. The two bodyguards each slam a fist at their shoulders and dip their heads down as he begins his descent down the stairs, followed by a pair of women each dressed in fabulously expensive outfits, their arms linked together.

As the man at the forefront reaches the bottom of the stairs he levels a look at the envoy who approaches with a measured smile. “Mpiaro Dunsimi,” she greets, and he flashes her a charismatic and easy smile.

Dajan will do,” he says, joined by his sister and her wife.

Dajan,” the envoy corrects herself and greets the two women. “Ms. Naika and Ms. Naika-Dunsimi…” and then gestures to the middle SUV.

“Welcome to America.”

Yamagato Park Outskirts

NYC Safe Zone

June 4th


Arms spread across the back of his seat in the SUV, Dajan Dunsimi watches the skyline of the Safe Zone breezing past just a few blocks from the airport. The pair of Apo Mpiambina seated across from him have been silent for much of the ride, unimpressed by the ruined city they're being led through. A thumping beat carries through the air, music piped from Dajan’s phone to test the ecofleet SUV’s connected systems.

We oughta pay you the trust

He slides that phone out of his jacket, pulling up a messaging app as he bobs his head to the music, thumbs sweeping quickly across the screen to compose a message. He smiles to himself, happy all things considered.

Crooked at work

Hitting send on the message, Dajan looks up to his bodyguards and tucks his phone back into his jacket. “Tena mahatsiravina izany,” he says with a nod out the windows. One of the Apo Mpiambina shakes her head and laughs, then nods.

Cookin' up curses and slurs

“It's terrible,” she replies in English, “I don't know how the Americans have had all this time and accomplished so little.” Dajan raises his brows and shrugs, slouching back against his seat. “Unless you were asking about this music,” she says with a look back to Dajan. “Also unimpressive.”

Smokin' my brain into mush

Flashing a smile, Dajan shakes his head and sweeps a hand over his bare scalp. “Everybody’s a critic,” he says softly, looking up over the frame of his sunglasses to the rooftops of buildings moving past.

I became famous for blamin' you fucks

“The Americans spent so much time trying to take everything from everyone else, from their own citizens, from every country that wasn't already built on the backs of people who couldn't defend themselves…” Dajan looks from the buildings to his guards, “they've never had to rebuild like we have. They've never felt what it's like to be on our end of things.”

Maimin' my way through the brush

“Now the shoe’s on the other foot,” Dajan motions to the window, “and America’s the one being colonized.” When he blinks a look back to the soldiers across from him they both show measures of agreement on his assessment. “But what's that make us, doing business with different colonizers?”

There is no training or taming of me and my bruh

One of the Apo Mpiambina smiles toothily at Dajan and rolls her eyes. “It makes us a superpower,” she says with a sly rise of her brows. Dajan nods, looking back to the skyline, silent in his agreement.

Look like a man, but I'm animal raw

Through the front windshield Dajan sees the lead SUV swerve off path and careen off the highway and crash through a railing and go sailing off of the overpass down and out of sight. His entire body tenses, spotting a single figure dressed in black standing in the middle of the road, one hand held out in the direction the first SUV flew.

We are the murderous pair

Before Dajan can say anything the SUV he's in comes to a crashing halt as though it struck a brick wall, then kicks up in the back and flips end over end over the top of the black-clad figure’s head and crashes down on the freeway. Glass explodes from the windows, metal twists and tears, a wheel comes flying off but the figure in black is focused on the rear SUV, bringing her hands together toward the last vehicle.

That went to jail and we murdered the murderers there

Her fingers curl, hands pull apart and the SUV launches off of its right tires and rolls sideways, bouncing like a spiraling football across the street. The attacker steps aside, watching the SUV come skidding across the asphalt, sparks showering in its wake. Behind a pair of dark goggles, the black-clad woman pivots on a bolted heel and flexes one hand open and closed, causing the ground below her hand to crack and split.

Then went to Hell and discovered the devil

Crawling out of the SUV, the Yamagato envoy is bleeding from her forehead and mouth, broken glass glittering in her hair. She looks up to the black-clad attacker who holds up one hand and snaps her fingers and throws the envoy off of the ground and into the side of the SUV, then down to the ground, then up into the air, then with a snap of her neck a sudden right turn that hurls her off the overpass.

Delivered some hurt and despair

Upside down in the SUV, struggling with her seat belt, Mihaja Naika makes frustrated sounds, tugging at the seatbelt and at the same time shouting at Juwariya who lays unmoving sideways across her seat and mostly on the door that is now flat against the street. Mihaja looks through the shattered windshield to the approaching woman in black, her breathing hastening.

Used to have powder to push

The black-clad assassin strides slowly toward the SUV, curling two fingers into the air and dragging the vehicle on its side across the ground closer to her. Mihaja keeps shouting down at Juwariya, trying to get her to wake up. The attacker hooks a finger and rips Mihaja out of the SUV and through the blown out front window, stopping her in mid-air with a flattening of her palm.

Now I smoke pounds of the kush


The dark-haired woman with black military goggles shielding her eyes cracks a smile, pulling Mihaja face to face with her. She pulls her goggles off, letting them fall to the ground with a clatter. Brown eyes suddenly surge with a brilliant golden light, “The Director sends his regar—

Holy, I'm burnin' a bush

— and before another syllable escapes her mouth is thrown off of her feet as the ground throws her like a bucking horse. The assassin is flung across the street as the road undulates and then immediately flattens. The assassin bounces across the street, then comes up onto one knee and touches a gloved hand to her scuffed jawline.

Now I give a fuck about none of this shit

Mihaja is on her hands and knees on the street, the assassin quickly realizes she wasn't the source of the attack and turns to look at the smoking wreckage of the second SUV—

Jewel runner over and out of this bitch

Dajan Dunsimi drops down off of the side of the SUV and the road rises up to meet his feet. He unfastens the button on his suit jacket, removing his broken sunglasses with his other hand to let them clatter to the street.


Dajan claps his hands together and the overpass erupts in an explosion of stone dust and debris, shattering in a jagged line toward the assassin who throws her hands down at the stone as it starts to shower upward at her. She deflects the rocks, sending a scouring fan of broken stone across the road.


Exhaling a sharp breath the assassin snaps her fingers and yanks the door off of the rear SUV and sends it spinning at Dajan, only to have him stomp down to his right and kick up a shield of asphalt that the door cleaves into. Dajan cracks a smile, then his knuckles, then the road.

Step into the spotlight, woo!

The assassin hurls an arm forward, sending a shockwave of force out as her eyes surge gold. Dajan takes the blast and is thrown back into the side of the ruined vehicle at his back. But even as he’s got the wind knocked out of him, another figure rises up off the side of the SUV above him. One of the Apo Mpiambina lets out a bellowing scream and leaps at the assassin, swinging a fist down through the air and launching a crackling arc of electricity down at the assassin.


The blast of electricity wracks the assassin, dropping her to her knees. Before she can get her footing, Dajan touches the ground and causes it to soften into mud, and she begins to sink into a syrupy abyss of molten tar. The assassin struggles, twists, and then tears herself free with a thrust of kinetic force. Shards of broken asphalt are flung into the air as she scrambles backwards.

A scrambled haze of rainbow light manifests behind the assassin, taking the form of a pink-haired girl in a slouchy rainbow-patterned wool sweater.


Val quickly wraps her arms around the assassin and envelopes her in that same shimmer of irridescent energy and both disappear in a rippling heat mirage. On seeing the immediate threat depart Dajan exhales a ragged breath, drops to one knee even as sounds of sirens flood the air. Blood flows down from his nose across his upper lip, he'd pushed himself hard to protect his family, and he collapses into the arms of one of his Apo Mpiambinaa moment later.

From the rear SUV, Juwariya pulls herself free, battered and bruised but otherwise fine. She reaches for Mihaja, scrambling across the asphalt, only stopping once their hands come together. She looks at her wife, then Dajan and around to the sound of roaring sirens and the far off crackling of flames. Her eyes track to the pillar of smoke rising up from below the overpass, twisting into the air from what was once the lead SUV. Juwariya slouches against Mihaja, covering her mouth with one hand and exhaling a shuddering breath into her palm.

“Fucking America,” Juwariya says in a hushed breath. Mihaja, who has not said a single word since the attack stares vacantly into the negative space where the assassin was. Her jaw trembles, though she struggles to hide it.

Fucking America, she agrees.

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