Inspired by the 2000s cult classic game Jet Set Radio, Stories From Tokyo-To is an electrifying prelude that takes you deep into the origins of Beat, the iconic street punk. Follow his journey as he fights for a better life in the chaotic streets of...
Benisu's scream reverberated as slid down the tunnel's twists and turns until a chute dropped us into a dumpster filled with what seemed to be pillows and blankets. It was pitch dark, I heard heavy breathing next to me.
"Kid, is that you?"
"Yeah... you good?"
"Yeah, I am..."
"Where did we-"
Flood lights flashed before us. We were helpless to cover our eyes in time. Blinded, I stood tall in the pile of fluff as Benisu tried to find his footing. "GYAAAAAH! WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING?!" The poor guy stammered backwards.
"Name!" I squinted between the two sun-like industrial lights. A tall figure was standing between them, obscured in shadow.
"Tab!"
"Business?"
"Really? C'mon I'm not sayin' it..."
"STATE YOUR BUSINESS OR ELSE!"
"Tab! JUST SAY IT!" Benisu yelled in my face, his eyes filled with panic when they really didn't need to.
I was so pissed off and upset from our encounter, but I had to put it aside and give the jackass what he wanted.
"I need help..."
"From whooo?" The voice just wanted me to say it, so I gave in.
"You. Slate..."
The lights turned off and the mysterious figure appeared in front of us. Slate. A six foot tall pain in the ass when you need something from him. We go way back and luckily for us, he's one of the only people who isn't actively trying to kill me in this town. This doof thinks he's "mysterious" when he zips his high collar jacket to cover his mouth. Maybe it would work, if it weren't for that oblong nose of his. On top of that, the guy would be practically bald if the three braids sticking out of his head were gone. His brown striped pants weren't doing him any favors either, the fuck looked like a retired clown.
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"Tab. My favorite and rarest customer! It looks like you have a guest? That's new."
"Slate. Ya changed tha "landing method". What happened ta tha mattresses?"
"Eh, upkeep and results varied. I figured a dumpster full of asbestos and fiberglass insulation would do better."
"WHAT?! GAHHHHH! GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!" Benisu jumped up and tripped out of the dumpster, landing on his chest. Slate snickered.
"He's jokin', Benisu." I climbed out of the dumpster and dusted myself off.
"THAT'S A SICK TWISTED EXCUSE FOR A JOKE!"
Slate lit the way through the dark and sketchy concrete tunnels under Kogane-cho with his goggles. He was adamant that we not make a single sound or else those "things" would hear us. It wasn't long until he invited us into his abandoned underground utility room turned workshop.
