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The bar was a squat, windowless building on one of the more infamous moons of Tortuga 7.
It violated at least sixteen building codes, and that was just the outside. Iwaizumi had no doubt that once he made it in, he’d find gambling, drugs and more wanted space pirates than he had room for in the hold.
But he wasn’t here for work.
Tonight, he wanted to settle something that didn’t involve official business.
He was, for want of a better word, going incognito.
He pushed open the heavy door and stepped into a thick cloud of heat and smoke that threatened to overwhelm him. A sharp flash of fluorescent illuminated the counter in the back of the room, dropping sharp shadows over everything else. The only other source of light in this godforsaken bar were a few jars of phosphor floating over some of the tables. A jangly sort of music drifted through the air, disorienting him as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The sheer amount of smells in the place was baffling.
He’d have to be careful about this, he knew. Tracking his target had taken months and he wouldn’t get this chance again any time soon.
Navigating a place like this meant precise movements and a clear head.
“Ooh,” Hanamaki sniffed behind him. “Orthesian Cat Nip! That’s the good stuff.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Iwaizumi sighed.
He’d left the captain on the ship, of course. Bringing Oikawa here would just be asking for trouble. But he wasn’t stupid enough to go to a place like this by himself.
Sadly, his choice of back-up had been limited, considering the circumstances.
Matsukawa had seemed like a good idea, since he was subtle enough to blend in anywhere, whereas Makki and Kyoutani were legitimate ex-cons. He’d hoped they wouldn’t look out of place here, but he may have underestimated what little shits all of his co-workers were.
They already looked like they were blending in a little too much.
To his right, Kyoutani was glaring at the assembled crowd, ostensibly looking for a fight.
Makki, meanwhile, was surveying the room with the eye of a connoisseur and the smug smile of someone who knew his superior owed him one.
Groaning, Iwaizumi eyed his lieutenant, hoping for some support. But Matsukawa was grinning widely.
“Me and Makki are going to have a chat with that herb seller over there,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “I can smell at least three different types of illegal substance and I want to try all of them. We’ll keep an eye on you from afar, ok? Don’t get into trouble now.”
With that, he winked.
He fucking winked and Iwaizumi was a second away from punching him for insubordination, before he remembered he was supposed to be undercover.
“This was your idea… colonel,” Makki added, with a grin so wide it could split his fucking face in half.
“Yeah, yeah, fuck off you two.”
Iwaizumi squinted into the dim room while his companions sidled away.
He was sure his intel had been correct. The target had to be here somewhere.
With a short nod of his head, he motioned Kyoutani to follow him to the bar.
“Two beers,” he grunted at the barkeep.
“Import or native?” the woman asked, not looking up from where she was washing glasses. She was tortugan: tall, wide and strategically scaly. She could probably kick the ass of anyone in this room, too, by the looks of her armoured tail.
“Import,” Iwaizumi said “Whatcha got?”.
Tortugan native beer was only 'beer’ because they changed the definition of the word for marketing purposes. The tortugans didn’t so much brew, as drink rocks.
Literally. They dissolved minerals into water to get high. Unsurprisingly, it tasted like dirt.
“Just Stellar,” the barkeep said.
Iwaizumi made a face. 'The galaxy’s most popular beer’ was overpriced and tasted like piss, but at least it had some kind of plant in it.
“That’s fine,” he said, dropping the credits on the bar.
When he turned around to hand Kyoutani his drink, he found the boy staring at a dark corner near the back door.
He’d found them.
Iwaizumi nudged the man at his side. “Stay close,” he said.
Kyoutani growled softly in response.
His target was sitting at a table in one of the further corners of the room, playing cards. Judging by the stack of credits by his arm, and the look on the faces of his opponents, he was winning.
“Captain Kuroo, I presume?” Iwaizumi said when he’d made it to the table, taking off the hood of his cloak.
The guy tilted his head and the single eye that was visible behind a mop of black hair widened for just a fraction of a second. He took one look at Iwaizumi’s face, the scar running across his eye, the slight hint of a holster under his cloak and the low growl of Kyoutani at his side, and gave him a lopsided smile.
“Colonel! Care to join us in a game of space poker? Or are you here for something else?”
The salutation was enough to put several of the surrounding crowd on edge. A short man next to Kuroo raised his eyebrows, hand inching into his coat.
Iwaizumi quickly held up both hands. “I’m off duty,” he said.
“Stand down, Kyoutani,” he added, when his companion bared his teeth.
This was the cue for Kuroo’s opponents to take what little money they had left and quickly vacate the table.
Iwaizumi sat down heavily in their place.
“You just lost me a thousand credits,” Kuroo said, amused grin on his face.
The guy next to him rolled his eyes. Iwaizumi recognized him from the reports as a man named Yaku, and he was said to always carry a massive shotgun. How he’d be able to smuggle something like that into a bar like this, Iwaizumi didn’t know, but he’d rather not find out if it was true.
The only other person left at the table was a tall white-haired alien who hung in his chair, giving a decent impression of a dish towel.
“Something wrong with your friend?” Iwaizumi asked, nodding at the lolling man.
“Lev? Not really. He’s been experimenting with drinks,” Kuroo said casually.
Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow.
“Turns out the turian gargleblaster was a bit much,” Yaku added. There was a smirk on his face, but his eyes hadn’t left his opponents for a second.
Iwaizumi would bet anything that the dude also knew about Matsun and Makki.
But he was off duty, so he kept telling himself. He was not here for a fight.
At least not that kind of fight.
“Take a seat, bud,” he told his companion, and Kyoutani tensely sank into the chair next to him.
“Now then, to what do we owe the honour… Hajime,” Kuroo smiled, voice smooth and sharp like acid oil. He lingered on the name, lapping at it as if he wanted the taste to last.
“I’m here to settle something,” Iwaizumi said, resisting his natural urge to scold in the face of so much impertinence. “I heard you’ve never lost an arm wrestling match.”
Realization dawned on the pirate’s face.
“I hear you’ve never lost one either,” he grinned and there was a deep, burning glow in his eyes that lit up his entire face.
Smiling, Iwaizumi leaned forward and placed his elbow on the table. “Let’s find out who’s the best, once and for all, shall we?”
“Give us a count, Yaku,” Kuroo said, laying his palm in Iwaizumi’s.
Sighing, Yaku laid his hand on the knot above the table. “Ready?” he said. “One, two!”
And he let go.
Immediately, the pressure on Iwaizumi’s arm was enormous.
“Well, well, and here I though you were just hot air and military pomp,” Kuroo said.
“And here I thought I was gonna crunch that piece of rust you call an arm to pieces,” Iwaizumi grinned.
Neither of them moved an inch while the atmosphere around them turned thick.
Iwaizumi’s face was red from the effort and heat was starting to build in his arm. He hadn’t had an opponent like this in a while and the strain he put on his muscles fucking hurt.
People were starting to take notice, too, patrons gathering around to see who would win. Somewhere in the crowd, a small alien was gathering bets.
“Go on then! Beat that cheating cat bastard!” one of the bystanders shouted.
“Takes balls to take on Kuroo. Try not to break your fucking arm!” another said.
The pirate captain across the table grinned, but his face had lost a lot of its natural calm. He was getting red and his breathing had become irregular. But then, Iwaizumi was not fairing much better. He could feel the sweat dripping down his neck and he was sure a vein had popped in his forehead.
“Kuro.”
A bored sounding voice spoke up to their right, startling Iwaizumi enough that he nearly lost his grip.
A small drone was whirring next to the pirate captain’s head. It flipped up a screen to show a young man with badly dyed hair.
“Kuro we have trouble.”
“What is it?” Yaku asked.
“Imperial troops.”
“Really, Iwaizumi?” Kuroo huffed. “You asked for back-up? Low blow, friend.” And he made a sudden move to throw Iwaizumi off.
“I didn’t ask for shit,” he grunted, pushing back. “I swear if this is some ruse to get out of a loss, I’ll kick your ass.”
“They're Shiratorizawa,” the boy on the screen clarified.
“Why would they come here?” Yaku frowned.
“Ha! That means your guys are also going down,” Kuroo barked, before inhaling sharply.
“How long till they get here?” Iwaizumi asked the drone.
“Three seconds. Two.”
With a sharp bang, the door to the bar shot open.
“Now,” said the boy on the screen.
“Oh, good job, very helpful,” Iwaizumi groaned.
“Alright, everybody freeze! I have a newtonian ice gun and I’m not afraid to use it!” a high pitched voice drawled from the door. There was a small giggle, before the man continued. “The honorable nation of Shiratorizawa has lost some precious, precious cargo and we’d like it back. As long as everyone sits tight and turn out there pockets, no one gets hurt.”
He may as well have set off an explosive.
In an instant, the whole place erupted in chaos. People started screaming, drinks flew across the room and the music stopped abruptly.
The pressure dropped from Iwaizumi’s arm.
Next to him, Kyoutani shot up with a heavy growl.
When he looked back across the table, Kuroo was gone.
Blinking, he found him already halfway to the back door, one unconscious Lev over his shoulder. Yaku was by his side, aiming a massive shotgun at anyone who dared come close.
“Looks like we’ll have to reschedule,” the captain said, “have your people call my people and we’ll have a rematch.”
He saluted him with a wink and a grin before he disappeared into the dark.
Iwaizumi swore under his breath.
“We need to go,” he said, tugging Kyoutani’s sleeve.
The kid was by now a barely restrained ball of nervous anger and if this lasted much longer, he’d just jump straight into the brawl erupting all around him.
They’d have to spring him from jail again, and Iwaizumi wasn’t feeling up to it.
A flash bang went off somewhere, causing even more panic. A throng of people stormed the door.
“Lovely place, this,” came the soft voice of Matsukawa near his ear.
“What the fuck happened to 'we got your back’ asshole?” Iwaizumi snapped, whirling around to face him.
His lieutenant just grinned. “We caused a diversion,” he said.
“Mass panic is not a diversion, Matsukawa,” Iwazumi pointed out, but the guy just shrugged.
“Either way, we may want to leave now,” he said.
“Yeah,” Hanamaki added, squeezing out of the crowd, “I don’t think we want to explain ourselves to the venerable commander Ushijima at this point.”
Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes. “Why….”
“Because,” Matsukawa leaned in conspiratorially, “I know where at least part of his precious, precious cargo is.” He waggled his eyebrows.
“Wait. Did you? Are you….fucking?” Iwaizumi frowned, momentarily baffled. “Seriously?”
The grin on Hanamaki’s face was enough to clear up any confusion that, yes, they were indeed very serious, and also that cargo was anything but legal.
“We’re doing important research on other nations, colonel,” Makki said, “We should be commended for this.”
A tinny smell and a flash of cold air wafted by. It seemed the Shiratorizawa agent by the door had started making good on his promise to freeze people.
“Later,” Iwaizumi said and the others nodded.
He peered into the gloom and found Kyoutani in the middle of a large bar fight, pummelling a man twice his size. The boy was winning by a large margin.
Iwaizumi stepped in and yanked his protesting subordinate back, out of the crowd, hauling him along as the four of them slipped out the back door and into the night.
“So, did you win?” Matsukawa asked when they had reached relative safety. He was huffing slightly from the long jog, and he patted his coat to check if all his 'evidence’ was still present.
“We got interrupted,” Iwaizumi grunted.
“Does that mean…” Hanamaki said.
“It’s a draw,” Iwaizumi said, stressing the last word to make it clear that they’d better drop this particular topic.
They walked in silence until they reached the gates to the port where their ship was docked.
“So…” Matsun asked, almost casually, “were you winning?” He was looking away, almost innocently checking a nearby sign while his friend grinned from ear to ear.
“It was a draw,” Iwaizumi repeated. And with that he shoved his hands in his pockets and ducked through the doors, into the bustling space port.