Welcome back to Clayton Bradley in Tokyo! Last week we left him swimming to a small island in the Sagami Bay. His first priority is still rescuing Kitty Boom Boom from the fangs of the evil doers.
I have to admit that I absolutely love the chaotic character of Kitty Boom Boom as an NPC so much. I want to point out, that her initial concept and personality have been generated by several Mythic meaning tables.
And now, without further ado … let’s jump right in!
Scene #7 Post-War Enigma, Model Kitty Boom Boom, 5 Rotors
Nestled amongst the rocks, patiently awaiting an opportune moment to advance towards the island’s headquarters, Clayton Bradley couldn’t help but notice a small light flickering atop the opulent mansion that dominated the landscape – undoubtedly Ishimoto Ryoko’s residence. Squinting his eyes, he observed the pattern of the flicker and realized it wasn’t random; there was a distinct rhythm to it.
“Oh wait…” he murmured, pulling out a soggy piece of paper and a pencil from his waterlogged pockets. “Damn, ok then I have to memorize the message.” Clayton concentrated intensely on the flickering light, meticulously translating the dots and dashes. The message, once decoded, proved to be… unconventional.
“Ey up, Sweety! Kitty ‘ere,” it began, in what was clearly a deliberately cryptic transmission. “Got enough info for you to get inside the gaff. I’m alright, see? Ishimoto thinks I’m some right sort of fame-chaser, a model type. Blimey, he likes his pretty birds, so invited me to stick around a bit. Stuck a map o’ the mansion and when the guards are movin’ about in a bottle between them rocks.”
Clayton mumbled under his breath, “Oh please, Kitty, be brief… and just talk regular English for once.” He found himself engaged in an increasingly bizarre linguistic exercise: first translating the Morse code, then attempting to decipher what appeared to be a deliberately convoluted form of Cockney slang, and finally trying to render it into something resembling comprehensible language. The process was proving far more challenging than any enemy cipher he’d encountered before.
After a frustrating half-hour spent scrambling over slick rocks and battling the rising tide, Clayton Bradley finally located the promised bottle. It lay nestled between two jagged boulders, partially obscured by seaweed and barnacles. He held it aloft, angling it towards the mansion in the hope that Kitty could see it.
A brief, reassuring burst of Morse code answered him – a short, sharp sequence that translated to “Right then, luv ya!” It was confirmation, a sign that his efforts hadn’t been entirely wasted. Clayton carefully retrieved the bottle and examined its contents. Inside, nestled amongst damp sand and seawater, was a tightly rolled piece of paper. He unfurled it cautiously, revealing a hand-drawn map of the mansion’s interior, complete with annotations detailing guard rotations, security camera locations, and potential entry points. Alongside the map were several cryptic notes written in what appeared to be a combination of English and… something else entirely. It was clear Kitty’s “photomodel” persona had provided her with ample opportunity to gather intelligence – though communicating it proved to be an ongoing challenge. Clayton sighed, but a flicker of determination crossed his face. He now possessed the tools he needed, albeit in a rather unconventional form.
Scene #8 – A well-tempered bridgehead
As Clayton studied the map and cryptic notes, a vivid image formed in his mind: Kitty, reclining by a sparkling pool within Ishimoto’s opulent mansion, sipping something fruity while surrounded by attentive servants. The contrast between her apparent ease and his precarious situation was starkly evident. More than two ways of losing his neck raced through his head – being apprehended by the ruthless Ishimoto during the rescue attempt, or facing M’s icy disapproval if he failed to secure Kitty’s release.
“That is not fair!” he sighed aloud, the sound swallowed by the evening breeze. The unfairness of it all settled heavily on him: risking life and limb while Kitty seemingly enjoyed a luxurious vacation at Ishimoto’s expense. Yet, as quickly as the resentment arose, it was tempered by appreciation for her reconnaissance work. Despite the unconventional methods – the cryptic Morse code, the bizarre Cockney slang, and the overall chaotic nature of her communication – she had managed to gather vital intelligence that significantly improved his odds.
The map’s indication of a service entrance, located not far away, immediately caught Clayton’s attention. The route led below the mansion itself, seemingly connecting directly to the boiler room – an ideal point of entry, if he could only gain access. He stealthily made his way towards the metal door that sealed the tunnel entrance, carefully navigating the rocky terrain.
His initial attempts at picking the lock proved futile; the mechanism was far more sophisticated than anything he’d encountered before. Just as frustration began to set in, a memory surfaced – Q’s parting gift of a small canister filled with a peculiar, grey foam. “Metal Death,” Q had called it, explaining that when applied to a metal surface, it would render it brittle as thin glass. The caveat: the effect only penetrated up to 15cm depth.
“Perfect! Thank you, Q!” Clayton whispered, a smirk playing on his lips. He carefully sprayed the foam onto the door’s locking mechanism and surrounding frame. The substance hissed slightly as it made contact with the metal, and within moments, a visible change occurred. The surface appeared to dull, losing its sheen. Then, with a satisfying “Thonk!” Bradley pushed against the now-fragile metal, and the once sturdy door crumbled inwards, creating an opening into the dark tunnel. He stepped across the threshold, leaving behind the remnants of Q’s ingenious invention and venturing deeper into the heart of Ishimoto’s domain. The air within the tunnel was thick with the smell of damp earth and coal dust – a distinctly unglamorous welcome to his subterranean adventure.
The darkness within the tunnel seemed to press in on Clayton, amplifying every sound. He paused, listening intently, his senses straining to discern any movement or noise beyond the drip of water echoing through the passage. A voice drifted towards him – a low grumble laced with discontent. It was definitely someone, and judging by the complaints about the shift he had to endure in the boiler room, it appeared to be a solitary figure.
Clayton cautiously advanced, moving with practiced stealth through the narrow tunnel until he reached a larger chamber. There, seated at a small table littered with papers and a half-eaten bowl of noodles, was a man with his back towards him. He seemed utterly absorbed in his own misery. Slowly, deliberately, Clayton approached from behind, taking care to avoid making any noise that might alert his target.
With a swift, well-aimed karate chop delivered to the base of the neck, Clayton incapacitated the guard. The man slumped forward onto the table with a muffled thud, sending noodles and papers scattering across the floor. “Good night!” Clayton whispered, barely audible above the dripping water, as the unfortunate guard sank to the ground in unconsciousness. He quickly scanned the room, ensuring there were no hidden cameras or alarms triggered by the sudden collapse. The boiler room was now his – a stepping stone on his path towards rescuing Kitty and escaping Ishimoto’s clutches.
Scene #9 – Inflatable combat gear
The boiler room was a cacophony of hissing pipes, clanging machinery, and the pervasive smell of coal dust. A staircase, conveniently marked on Clayton’s soggy map, led upwards – towards the upper levels of the mansion. He had previously decided that securing Kitty’s safety and escape would be his priority; eliminating Ishimoto could wait. Everything else posed too great a threat to her life, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Bradley didn’t encounter any difficulty locating Kitty’s room. The map was remarkably clear: a large heart drawn in vibrant red ink, accompanied by the personal note “Just chillin’ ‘ere, duckie!” that suggested she might indeed be… waiting for him there. He ascended the staircase, each step echoing slightly in the otherwise silent mansion.
The ascent proved more challenging than anticipated. As Clayton made his way through the mansion’s corridors, he narrowly avoided being spotted by a waiter pushing a laden trolley – likely delivering dinner or some other form of opulent refreshment. He pressed himself against the wall, holding his breath until the man disappeared around a corner. Reaching the door marked with the heart and Kitty’s note, Clayton knocked lightly, hoping to avoid unnecessary attention.
After a short wait filled with muffled noises from behind the door, it opened just a crack. Before he could react, however, Clayton found himself abruptly grabbed by the collar and yanked inside. The door slammed shut with surprising force, leaving him momentarily disoriented. But the surprise didn’t end there. A petite figure, clinging to his neck with alarming tenacity, materialized before him – a whirlwind of British-Japanese energy.
“Ooh, luvvie, I just knew ya’d pop on down to rescue yer Kitty Boom Boom!” she whispered directly into his ear, her voice a mixture of playful excitement and steely determination. The grip on his collar tightened, and it became clear this wasn’t just a friendly greeting; this was a full-blown assault – albeit one conducted by a remarkably small but incredibly determined special agent attempting to eat his face.
Clayton, struggling to maintain his composure amidst the unexpected assault of enthusiastic affection, gently pushed Kitty away from him, taking a moment to assess the situation – and her attire. His eyes widened slightly as he took in the full picture. “What on God’s green earth are you wearing, Kitty?” he asked, his voice laced with a mixture of bewilderment and concern.
The translucent silk nightgown, combined with the fluffy furball slippers, presented an image that threatened to send Director M into a state of apoplectic rage if she ever discovered what he’d witnessed. The thought alone sent a shiver down Clayton’s spine. “Nah, not ticklin’ your fancy, eh?” Kitty asked innocently, turning around on her tiptoes, showcasing the full extent of her… ensemble.
Bradley quickly recovered, forcing a reassuring smile onto his face. “You look great,” he assured her, carefully avoiding any further comment about the impracticality of the outfit. “But this isn’t really made for a hasty escape. You should change clothes as soon as possible and prepare for an immediate exit.” He glanced around the room, already formulating a plan to get them out of there before anyone else noticed anything amiss – or before Director M received word of his unexpected viewing experience. The situation was rapidly escalating from complicated to potentially disastrous, and Clayton Bradley needed to act fast.
While Clayton waited for Kitty to change, a peculiar sound – a rubbery “Flpppf!” – echoed through the room. He braced himself for whatever transformation might be occurring, but nothing could have prepared him for what stood before him moments later. Gone was the silk and fur; in their place stood Kitty, radiating an entirely different kind of energy. She now wore a skin-tight black latex catsuit that clung to her form with unsettling precision.
“Blimey o’clock! Didn’t expect that – blow-up fightin’ stuff comin’ all the way from Japan!” she declared triumphantly, producing a sleek, silenced weapon from seemingly nowhere. The transformation was complete – Kitty Boom Boom had arrived. “Right then,” she whispered, her eyes gleaming with determination, “let’s have a butcher’s at that geezer’s bum.” With a fluid, catlike grace that belied the latex confines of her attire, she slipped out of the room, leaving Clayton standing there in stunned silence. He could only shake his head before following after her, bracing himself for whatever chaos – and inflatable combat gear – lay ahead.
Scene #10 – Wait… just a little bit longer!
Clayton and Kitty positioned themselves discreetly, observing the movements within the mansion. Another waiter, pushing a trolley laden with silver and fine china, passed through the corridor, disappearing around a corner. Kitty pointed towards that direction with a knowing glance. “Them rooms belong to Ishimoto, see?” she whispered, her voice low and serious. “Must be chowing down somethin’, the bloke.”
Clayton signaled for Kitty to maintain watch as he cautiously approached the room where the waiter had vanished. He carefully peered through the keyhole, his heart pounding in his chest. Inside, a scene of opulent menace unfolded before him. A man who bore a striking resemblance to Ishimoto Ryoko sat at a large table, surrounded by a phalanx of imposing men – undoubtedly his bodyguards. They were a formidable presence, radiating an aura of quiet threat.
Bradley quickly assessed the situation. Attempting to eliminate Ishimoto now, with such heavy security in place, would be reckless and likely suicidal. The risk was simply too great. He quietly retreated from the keyhole, returning to Kitty’s side. “It’s not a good time,” he explained, his voice hushed. “He’s surrounded by guards. Trying anything now would be foolish – it would put both of us in unnecessary danger.” He paused, considering their options. “We need a better opportunity, a moment when the security is lessened.” The plan had to adapt; patience and careful observation were now paramount.
A tense half hour stretched by as they waited, concealed within the shadows of the mansion’s corridors. Just as patience began to wear thin, the large door swung open, and Ishimoto Ryoko emerged, followed closely by two of his most imposing bodyguards. Kitty and Clayton remained hidden, their eyes fixed on the trio as they passed their hiding spot.
With a carefully timed delay, the two spies slipped into motion, following Ishimoto’s procession as he ventured outside. The air was noticeably colder, carrying a sharp bite and a heavy wind that whipped around them. Ishimoto paused at what appeared to be an ornamental pool, gazing out across the landscape with a contemplative expression.
Suddenly, Kitty leaned in towards Clayton, her voice barely above a whisper. “Stone the crows, ‘e’s keepin’ sharks in there, like!” she hissed, pointing towards the murky depths of the pool. The image of sleek, predatory fins circling beneath the surface sent a shiver down Clayton’s spine. This wasn’t just an opulent estate; it was a bizarre and unsettling playground for a man with questionable tastes – and potentially dangerous pets. The situation continued to escalate in its strangeness, and Clayton braced himself for whatever came next.
Scene #11 – And the shark, it has teeth, and it wears them in the face…
A spark of inspiration ignited within Clayton Bradley, breaking through the tension that had been building. His gaze landed upon a large opened sun umbrella, standing sentinel just a meter away from their hiding spot. Without hesitation, he swiftly and silently detached it from its post, laying it flat on the ground with deliberate aim directly towards Ishimoto and his bodyguards.
Kitty watched Clayton’s actions with a mixture of perplexity and amusement. Her face contorted into an inquisitive expression, her shoulders shrugged in silent demand for explanation. Clayton nodded knowingly, gesturing for her to hold back and trust his plan. He positioned himself, arms outstretched towards the sun shade, before discreetly activating the miniature propellers concealed within his cufflinks.
With a sudden burst of compressed air, the umbrella launched forward with surprising force, hurtling through the air like a projectile. It slammed against Ishimoto Ryoko and one of his bodyguards, sending them both tumbling into the shark-infested pool with a splash. The remaining guards erupted in a chaotic flurry of panic, running around the pool in circles, utterly disoriented and unsure what to do.
Meanwhile, within the murky depths, dinner was served – a gruesome spectacle as the two men dissolved into a crimson patch of water amidst the circling sharks. Kitty slapped her hand on Clayton’s shoulder, her eyes wide with impressed admiration. “Cor blimey,” she whispered, her voice laced with genuine astonishment, “you’re tight and sharp as a tack! Lovely combo.” The rescue mission had taken an unexpectedly brilliant – and delightfully chaotic – turn.
The sudden tumult at the pool served as an urgent signal for Clayton and Kitty to retreat. They carefully backed away from their hiding spot, managing to create as much distance as possible between themselves and the escalating chaos. With a swiftness born of necessity, they cleared a stone railing that framed the terrace and slid down a grassy slope, landing with a soft thud on the rocky shore.
“Somewhere there…” Bradley pointed towards the open sea in the direction from which he had arrived “…somewhere there is my rowing boat,” deliberately muffling the word rowing-part of the sentence. “I have got an idea,” he announced, his voice low and determined. He outlined his plan: he would act as a makeshift raft, utilizing the miniature propellers within his cufflinks to propel them back towards his waiting rowing boat.
Said and done, Clayton waded into the chilly water, Kitty swiftly climbing onto his back. He straightened his arms, bracing himself against the current, and activated the cufflinks. The propellers whirred to life, creating a surprising thrust that pulled them forward through the waves.
The scene unfolding was undeniably surreal: a British-Japanese girl riding atop the back of a man in a tuxedo, hands waving wildly in the air as she let out a joyful cry. “Heya horsey!” Kitty shrieked, her laughter echoing across the water, adding an element of absurdity to their daring escape. The aquatic rodeo was underway, a testament to Clayton Bradley’s ingenuity and Kitty’s penchant for the dramatic – all while leaving behind a pool full of sharks and a very confused group of Japanese bodyguards.
Scene #12 – Hot Springs and pumpkins on Hokkaidō
Back at PSIA headquarters in Tokyo, Director Fukuhara Shozaburo and Director M were anxiously awaiting the arrival of Clayton and Kitty. Director M hadn’t wasted a moment, immediately flying to Tokyo upon receiving word of their mission, her primary concern being the safety and well-being of her niece.
After a short, joyful greeting between aunt and niece – punctuated by Kitty’s enthusiastic hugs – the two spies began recounting their experiences on the island. Kitty dramatically produced a document from within the seemingly impossible confines of her inflatable latex combat suit, displaying it for inspection. “Lifted that right under Ishimoto’s nose, innit?” she explained with a mischievous grin.
Clayton took a quick peek at the paper, his mind reeling not only from the sheer volume of items he suspected Kitty was somehow concealing within her attire but also from what he saw emblazoned upon it. He raised an eyebrow in recognition. “I know that logo,” he stated, pointing to the stylized silhouette of a goldfish wearing a pointy hat. “I saw it before… in the Mont Blanc den of the Phantom.” The image conjured memories of their previous encounter with the elusive criminal mastermind and his eccentric organization. A new thread had been woven into this already complex situation – a connection between Ishimoto Ryoko and the enigmatic Phantom, suggesting a far larger conspiracy at play than they initially suspected.
Kitty launched into an enthusiastic recounting of Clayton’s gentlemanly behavior, emphasizing how he had turned away as she essentially stood naked before him. The praise was met with a swift and icy response. A sharp hiss and an intensely disapproving gaze were directed at Bradley, courtesy of Director M.
Kitty then shifted her attention to Director Fukuhara Shozaburo, requesting several days off to recuperate from the mission’s intensity. “This could do the trick, linkin’ PSIA and MI-6 a bit closer, yeah?,” she added smoothly, suggesting a joint excursion. “I bet Mr. Bradley’d fancy a gander at what Nippon’s bringin’ to the table.”
Director M swiftly closed the distance between herself and Clayton Bradley, leaning in close until her voice was a low, menacing hiss directly into his ear. “Put your fingers on my niece and I rip your heart out,” she warned, her eyes narrowed with barely contained fury. “Understood?” The threat hung heavy in the air, leaving no room for interpretation. Clayton swallowed hard, acknowledging the warning with a respectful nod. He had a feeling that any further impropriety would be met with consequences far more severe than a simple reprimand.
Several days later, nestled within a cozy hotel room on the snowy island of Hokkaidō, Clayton found himself thoroughly relaxed after a rejuvenating soak in the local hot springs. The crisp air and mineral-rich waters had done wonders for his nerves. Kitty entered the room, radiating an effortless elegance as she wore a vibrant green kimono, its silk shimmering under the soft lighting.
“Kitty… uhm…” Clayton began cautiously, “I saw the photos of mine in your… office. Where the hell did you get them? And how did you know so much about me?”
Kitty responded with a melodic laugh that echoed through the room. “Proper went to London last year, popped round to me aunt’s, and there you were!” she explained casually. “I was pesterin’ me aunt about you, see?” She paused, then continued, her voice shifting seamlessly into a flawless Oxford British accent, laced with a playful purr. “And the PSIA has some of the best reconnaissance satellites!” The statement hung in the air, a subtle reminder that his every move was likely being monitored.
The ‘En
I hope you had fun reading Operation Cherry Blossom. I sure had fun playing it. See you soon!
