UNKNOWN GUEST

#98 At The Port

The cool evening air brushed against my face as I arrived at Kobe Port, the city still humming with life. It was the kind of busy that made you feel invisible, everyone preoccupied with their own little world—trucks unloading crates, workers chatting by food stalls, and tourists snapping photos of the glittering coastline.

The port itself was far from sleepy, with its neon lights reflecting off the water, casting long, wavy beams into the sea.

I strolled casually toward the far end of the dock, where I had spotted the boat last week. Tonight, though, it was nowhere to be seen.

My stomach twisted with a bit of uncertainty. Had I misjudged the timing? Just as I was about to turn back, a man approached me, his uniform giving him away as one of the port guards.

"Nani ka mondai de gozai masu ka?" His voice was firm, eyes scanning me like I was an unfamiliar face.
(Any problem here?)*

I kept my cool and shook my head, glancing down at the deck. "Mondai arimasen. Tada tomodachi o matte iru dakedesu," I replied in my practiced, but still wobbly, Japanese.
(No problem. I'm just waiting for a friend.)*

I could feel the words stick on my tongue for a second before they rolled out. He didn't look entirely convinced, but his face softened slightly as he gestured with a subtle wave of his hand.

"Isoide kudasai. Mō osoku narimasu."
(Please hurry. It's getting late.)*

I nodded in acknowledgment, watching him walk away before letting out a slow breath. Maybe I was being too paranoid, but something felt off tonight. It wasn't just the missing boat—it was the quiet tension in the air, like waiting for a shoe to drop.

I waited by the side of the dock, keeping an eye on the water, when two men appeared, pushing a trolley. Their movements were deliberate, but not hurried, like they had done this a hundred times.

I stepped aside to let them pass, watching out of the corner of my eye as they made their way to the edge of the port. One of them pulled out a walkie-talkie and spoke into it.

Walkie-talkie? That seemed... a bit out of place for a regular dock worker.

And then I saw it—the boat. Its dim flashlight flickered like a weak firefly, barely cutting through the mist hanging over the water. The waves were steady, making the boat sway gently as it pulled up alongside the port.

Another man appeared from the boat, and the trio started loading the two trolley bags onto it. They worked quickly, almost mechanically, before disembarking and disappearing down the ramp, their footsteps fading into the distance.

This was my chance.

I waited until they were well out of sight before making my way toward the boat. Something about it tugged at the edges of my memory—something familiar, something I couldn't quite put my finger on. As I got closer, my suspicions gnawed at me. I stepped onto the deck, careful not to make any noise, and knelt by the side of the boat. There, under the dim light, I spotted it.

The unmistakable SHIELD logo.

How on earth could a SHIELD logo be on that boat? A rogue SHIELD operation? Pirates? My mind raced as I crouched down to get a closer look. But before I could figure anything out, I heard footsteps—a subtle shift in the air behind me. I tensed, ready to react, but it was too late.

Thud!

A sharp pain exploded at the back of my head, sending a jolt down my spine. My vision blurred instantly, the world tilting as if the ground itself was yanked from under me. I tried to stand, to spin around and face whoever was behind me, but my legs felt like they were stuck in quicksand. My thoughts scattered, and all I could register was the burning ache radiating from my skull.