Neon Genesis Evangelion Fan Fiction ❯ Justice Complete ❯ Part 1 ( Chapter 1 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: The Dude Slayer 
Anime/Manga: Neon Genesis Evangelion Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Action / Adventure / Drama / Suspense / Thriller | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 02.25.2003 | Pages: 11 | Words: 7.4K | Visits: 399 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Neon Genesis Evangelion Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Action / Adventure / Drama / Suspense / Thriller | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 02.25.2003 | Pages: 11 | Words: 7.4K | Visits: 399 | Status: Completed
Neon Genesis Evangelion
Justice Complete
Part 1
The sun was shining brightly over the expansive campus. The
trees provided perfect cover as a shadowy figure made its way across
the campus towards the Science building.
Kaji and Misato patiently waited outside the Academy's Science
building. As per usual Misato was coming to retrieve the day's notes
from her roommate. As they waited, unbeknownst to them a shadowy
figure closed the distance between himself and them.
Silently a tanned man of Latino origin neared the pair of lovers.
His short ebony hair framed his carefree face. The obsidian trenchcoat
he wore billowed in the gentle wind as he stalked. A smile made its
way to his deep tan features.
Kaji gently rubbed Misato's back as they waited. "When does she
get out of class?"
Misato grabbed Kaji's arm and looked at his wristwatch, also
providing him the chance to cop a feel. "Ten minutes." She released
his arm. "And don't grope me in public," she giggled childishly.
Kaji smiled as he leaned back against the bench. "Hai, hai."
The shadow man watched as he stepped up behind the pair of Asian
lovers. Neither seemed to notice him standing there, until Ritsuko
arrived.
Ritsuko appeared almost out of nowhere beside Kaji. She paid no
mind to the man standing behind her friends. Ritsuko opened her
notebook and handed over a pile of papers to the happy smiling purple
haired woman. "Misato, if you keep skipping class you will never
graduate." Ritsuko sternly scolded her roommate.
Misato grinned cutely at the blonde. "Chill out Ritsu."
Ritsuko glared as she stood up. "I have work to do. I'll see
you three later." Deftly Ritsuko walked away from the group. When she
was a few meters away she turned and looked back. "Hey Jude!" She
smirked and continued across the campus.
Misato and Kaji shared a confused look before looking behind
them. Standing there was a tall man dressed in all black, including a
pair of black mirror shades.
Misato smiled as she jumped at the man and hugged him fiercely.
"JC-kun!!!"
Kaji stood and walked beside his girlfriend. "JC." Kaji stuck
his hand out, which JC shook.
"Kaji. Kit Kat." JC grinned devilishly. "I wish Rit-chan
hadn't done that."
Misato smiled. "Why? Were you trying to sneak a peek?"
JC pulled a CD from his coat. "Why, when I have surveillance
from your apartments."
Both Kaji and Misato shared a surprised and almost angry look.
JC chuckled. "All that surveillance training and late night Bond
movies have come in handy." JC turned the CD over and showed it was
Santana's "Supernatural".
Misato growled. "Baka." She smiled quickly. "If you weren't
such a good friend."
JC smirked. "I know." He snapped his fingers. "Before I
forget. I'm having a party at my place tomorrow night. Could you find
Rit-chan and tell her?"
Kaji nodded. "Sure thing."
JC bowed slightly. "Arigoto." He turned on his heel and
disappeared into the throng of students.
It wasn't until after he was gone that Misato and Kaji noticed
that the entire conversation had taken place in Japanese. By then
their American friend was long gone.
The next night JC's apartment was full of drunken college
students. The party had long since hit full swing. Misato had
finished off her twelfth Guinness and was starting in on a new one.
Kaji was downing tequila shots with a large red haired man of Irish
decent. JC and Ritsuko were sharing stories of job opportunities.
A strange Calypso drum beat sounded from the expensive sound
system lining one wall of the apartment. Its calming steel drum sound
providing enough beat to keep couples dancing and still allowing people
to talk.
JC looked around the room as the song neared its end. He stood
and asked if Ritsuko would excuse him. When she nodded he bowed and
moved off to the stereo. Silently JC's hand came out and lowered the
volume of the music.
The crowd in the room turned, ready to kill the offending party.
Once everyone's attention was on him JC smiled. He held up his hands
in defense of his actions.
"Welcome everyone." JC's thick Spanish accent contrasted greatly
with the German he was speaking. "I want to than you all for attending
this little soiree." He grinned happily. "Unlike most of my parties,
which were mostly Misato's idea," most of the guests laughed, "this
party is being held for a serious reason."
JC took a deep breath and steadied himself. As his friends
watched he noted the looks on each of their faces. "GERHIN contacted
me earlier this week. Seems that the security teams there accepted my
application. I'll be headed for Tokyo the day after tomorrow."
A collective gasp could be heard. Everyone gathered knew that
JC's goal was to join GERHIN security, maybe even make it to Section 2
someday. Of course no one expected him to succeed in getting that
position with another year to go at the Academy.
Kaji, always the suave one, crossed the room to his friend. "JC.
We are all shocked to hear that you will not be with us next semester.
But we are all happy for you as well. You got the job you were hoping
for." He flashed a familiar, calming smile to his friend and the room
of people. "So why don't we all make your last day in Germany a
blast!"
The room exploded in the cheers of twenty drunken college
students. The music returned to its previous decibel level. The
drinks flowed and the party continued as if it had never been
interrupted.
Kaji waved Misato and Ritsuko towards the balcony as he led JC
through the mass of people to where they could enjoy some quite place
to talk. When the four friends met up on the balcony JC took his usual
spot, leaning against the rail directly in front of the patio doors.
He leaned over the rail looking out over the campus that had been his
home for almost five years.
JC turned and looked at his close Japanese friends. "Well guys.
It's been a blast knowing you all. Gotta say, I enjoyed every minute
of it. And I'll miss you, that includes you Rit-chan."
Misato, always the emotional one, ran to her older friend and
wrapped her arms around him. She hugged ardently, nearly crushing her
tan friend's rib cage. "Why?" A small stream of warm tears fell from
her eyes soaking her friend's black satin shirt.
JC stroked Misato's hair, trying to calm her. "Shhh. Kit Kat,
please, don't cry." Vainly he attempted to blink back the tears
threatening to fall down his face. "We all knew this day was going to
happen soon enough. When we joined the Academy we knew that someday
we'd have to leave the friends we'd made here." He lifted Misato's
chin so he could look into her eyes. "I'll be in Tokyo 3. You and
Rit-chan will be there soon enough. I promise; someday we'll all meet
up there."
Kaji looked at his friend and then to his girlfriend. A slight
ping of jealousy flickered through him. He pushed it away and scolded
himself. "JC's right. We'll all be hanging out together before you
notice the time had past."
A shadowy figure stood at the edge of a small hill over looking a
valley. The only thing in the valley was an expensive villa. He
placed the binoculars down and picked up the sniper rifle sitting next
to him.
The night sky was filled with clouds of all sorts. The moon was
nearly blocked out, which suited the man just fine. He preferred the
darkness when he worked.
Kneeling down the man lifted the elongated rifle to his right
eye. He looked through the night vision scope attached to the rifle.
Directly in his line of sight was a largely obese man in a white suit.
He paced back and forth nervously. The man looked at the hourglass on
his desk.
The white sands filtered through the hole into the glass's bottom
section. Time was running out for him, and he knew it. The Hourglass
Assassin had delivered the glass almost exactly twenty four hours ago.
Finally the last grain of sand had fallen through the glass, his
reckoning was here.
The shadow man lay down on the wet grass of the hill. The rain
earlier had soaked everything in the Colombian valley. The miles of
marijuana, opium, and other plants happily fed off the sweet humid
water. The rain also provided that anyone on foot would have a hard
time following the man.
Inhaling deeply the man steadied his rifle on a rock. As he held
his breath, he slowly pulled back on the trigger. Halfway back the man
slowly exhaled and pulled the trigger back, firing the high speed round
from his weapon.
A second later the fat man fell to the floor, dead. Two seconds
later his bodyguard was dead next to him. Two seconds after that the
guard outside the door was dead. None of them knew they were dead
until it had been too late.
The shadow man sat up and quickly began disassembling his rifle.
As he carefully removed each piece he placed it in its waterproof carry
bag. The gun easily came apart and was stored within seconds. The
shadow man stood and carried the case to the "borrowed" Jeep a few
meters away, where he'd stored the rest of his gear.
The man placed the gun in the back with his other rifles and
pulled out a large RPG-3 launcher. He cocked a large red, black, and
yellow grenade into the launcher and steadied it on his shoulder.
Aiming the hefty weapon the shadow figure steadied himself against the
Jeep and fired, sending the grenade along its intended path.
The house exploded in a fireball of immense proportions. Which
only grew as the second shot was fired destroying what was left of the
house and the fields.
The man tossed the launcher into the Jeep and sighed. Another
drug-lord another multimillion. He climbed into the front seat and
turned the engine over. As quietly as possible the man drove off into
the night and to the closest bar.
A few hours later wearing black jeans, a black T-shirt, and a
black trenchcoat a shadowy figure tread into a small saloon. He found
his way to an empty stool at the bar where he ordered a bottle of Jack
Daniel's. The Hourglass Assassin drank himself to sleep that night.
Sometime in the mid-afternoon something awoke the assassin. It
was the feel of someone tapping on his aching skull. Not a good thing
to do to someone with a hangover, even worse when that person can kill
you forty-seven different ways unarmed. The Assassin reached up and
grabbed the person's arm and pushed it off his back and down, breaking
it at the elbow.
The man fell to the ground screaming in pain. The Assassin stood
and walked to the front door of the saloon, where thirty men in Kevlar
with large guns waited. The Assassin reached into his trenchcoat and
removed the pair of Navy SEAL issue Dessert Eagles, carefully he
checked for possible jams and that the 32 shot magazines were full.
Positive on both accounts.
The Assassin replaced one of the guns and reached into his
pocket. Happily he found he did indeed have a single grenade left.
Placing a pair of earplugs in his ears he pulled the pin on the device
and threw it out the door of the saloon. The resulting explosion
killed at least three people and destroyed one car.
Sneaking through the back door, the Assassin carefully made his
way through the underbrush. Desperately he hoped he'd make it to the
waiting plane. As he snuck away from his would be killers he wondered
if Frank was still waiting on him, or if the pilot had left yet. He
WAS almost two hours late.
Frank Bama sat in his plane fuming. He'd been here almost three
hours, and would have left already if the man he was picking up hadn't
been his best customer. For the past three years this guy had
repeatedly hired him for jaunts to all parts of the world. Frank never
asked questions, it wasn't his place.
He knew his client was a Key West native, like himself. That
made finding each other easier. Frank also knew that whatever job his
client had it ensured that he carried a LOT of firepower. Frank knew
the man couldn't be a drug runner, because he could have afforded his
own plane. Frank sighed figuring the man was either a bounty hunter or
an assassin, either of which he didn't want to know.
A flash of light glinted off the horizon catching Frank's eye.
Frank shot up in his seat and began searching all bands on his VHF
radio for any news. That's when he saw it. A black clad figure
running at him firing over his shoulder into the brush.
Bullets streaked past Frank's client, his client fired back.
Frank lowered the stairs allowing his client a way into the place
before he was killed.
The Assassin rolled out of the underbrush firing like mad. As
he'd been running a patrol had stumbled upon him, causing this present
fire fight. Swearing he looked down to his left arm where a small hole
had been ripped open by the high caliber bullet that had ripped through
his upper left triceps.
'The wound can wait 'til I get on the plane' he thought as he
released the clip in his right gun and quickly replaced it. With a
flip of his wrist he dropped his sunglasses into place, activating the
infrared sensors built in. In the distance he could see three people
moving in from his immediate right, two coming straight at him, and one
large mass moving in from the left.
Cursing the Assassin holstered his left gun and began patting
down his trenchcoat for any explosives he might have left. 'Damn! Now
I wish I hadn't hit the bar last night. I could use that RPG
launcher.' Shrugging the man turned his Desert Eagle's laser sight on.
Taking careful aim he fired two bullets in front on himself, taking out
both of the men.
Not caring to press his luck the Assassin cocked the large,
powerful pistol and ran for the seaplane that was slowly starting its
dual prop engines.
Frank ran a hand through his light brown hair. "Come on man.
Where are you." Frank could easily see the men with the guns coming at
him, and the last thing he wanted were holes in his plane. Frank
pushed the throttle up hoping the propellers would get started.
"I hate cold start ups." Frank primed the pumps on the number
two engine repeatedly hoping it would turn over. "Come on baby. Don't
let me down now."
The Assassin fired off two more shots to his left. Two more men
went down. The bullets still flew by his face. Not wanting to waste
any time the Assassin ran full sprint towards the plane. Occasionally
he could feel a bullet or two bounce off his Kevlar lined trenchcoat,
making him glad he didn't break down and buy the leather like he'd
originally planed.
"FRANK! FIRE THE ENGINES!" The Assassin threw himself into the
cargo hold of the old Grumman Goose. Just as he was pulling the gang
plank up a large Latino man in khakis with an old AK-47 jumped onto the
plane. The Assassin kicked the man in the side of the head and pulled
the stairs up before anyone else could get inside.
Frank fired up the engines and taxied the large plane off the
runway and into the air. The Hemisphere Dancer was soon on its way back
home to the Conch Republic. Out of nowhere a shot rang out, scaring
Frank, who took a look back behind him into the cargo hold.
The Assassin shot the man between the eyes, not caring about the
blood on his clothes or Frank's plane. Silently he pushed the safety
down on his pistol and began checking for jams and possible problems.
Finding none he holstered the weapon and lifted the man into a
fireman's hold.
The Assassin opened the gangplank and threw the man out of the
low flying plane, into the Colombian rain forest. He closed the door
and leaned against the bulkhead letting his adrenaline and heart beat
slow down.
Frank turned back to his controls and was soon flying himself and
his crazy client back home. The plane was quiet except for the
constant hum of the engines. Frank was happy he'd survived this trip.
The Assassin stood up and took a deep breath, which he slowly
released through his teeth. He walked to the copilot's seat where he
sat down. He picked up the headset and placed it over his ears.
"Frank, you hear me?"
"Roger that JC. Whatcha need?"
The Assassin touched his shoulder. "First aid kit. You got one
around here?"
Frank nodded. "Yeah. Behind your seat there should be one."
The Assassin reached behind his seat and found what was indeed a
large First Aid kit. He began rummaging through it looking for some
painkillers and antiseptic. The man found the antiseptic and poured it
on his wound, causing him to wince painfully.
Frank watched as his client pulled a pocketknife out of his
pocket and began digging around in his left shoulder. He'd seen guys
doing this back during the Post Second Impact wars. Quicker than a
doctor or field medic, and usually more trustworthy too. His client
pulled an unexploded shell from his shoulder and sighed.
The Assassin looked at the shell in his hands. "Fucking
bastards. They weren't trying to just kill me, they were gonna blow me
up." He smirked. "Too bad for them they failed." The man reached
into his pocket and removed a large radio detonator.
The Assassin pushed the single red button on the remote. Far
behind the plane a giant plume of black smoke and fire pushed its way
into the sky. He tossed the detonator into the back of the plane with
his coat.
Frank looked at his client. "JC, you gonna be alright?"
JC nodded. "I'll survive. It'll take a day or two at the beach,
some time at Sloppy Joe's, and maybe a visit by the hospital for some
painkillers. But yeah, I'll survive."
"That's good."
"That it is. Oh before I forget. We need to stop by No See Her
Cay before we go back to the Conch."
Frank looked confused. "Why?"
JC raised an eyebrow at the pilot. "I assumed you'd want to be
paid. But if not, let's just head back to the Conch."
"No, no, no. We'll stop. It's just..."
"I know. No one stops by the Cayman Islands nowadays. But my
bank is there, so we need to stop off."
"Why the Caymans?"
JC looked at his pilot. "Good interest rates, annual return of
12%, and no taxes."
Frank nodded. "Good point." Frank turned the plane Northeast
and headed for the Cayman Islands.
JC walked back to the plane counting through a stack of bills.
He stepped upto Frank and handed him the stack. "Six thousand four
hundred, just like we agreed."
Frank quickly counted the money for himself. He looked up at
JC's smiling face. "I'd ask how you make all this money, but after
that little shoot-out earlier I think I know."
JC shrugged. "What can I say Frank. Pirates aren't the only
one's that kill people." JC pulled his coat closed. "Anyway. I only
go for evil people. Drug dealers, mob bosses, politicians, military
leaders, that kind of people. Women, children, and innocents are a no
go with me."
"An assassin with morals. Will wonders never cease?"
JC shrugged. "I don't know man. All I know is that I'm paying
the bills for both of us." JC smiled happily. "So you wanna swing by
Sloppy Joe's and grab a beer when we get back?"
Frank looked JC over and shrugged. "Why not. Just tell me one
thing. What made you chose to become an assassin?"
JC shivered as he remembered something.
"Kiyone! Kiyone!" A younger JC dragged himself across the
floor of the smoke filled armaments building. He and his partner had
been separated in the initial blast.
A young woman dressed in a black NERV Security uniform
coughed. She was leaning against a wall holding her right side. Blood
seeped from the gaping hole that a few minutes ago had been her right
arm. "J...C..." she coughed again, a small rivulet of blood dripped
from her mouth.
JC fell to his knees. "Kiyone! NO!" Tears flowed down
JC's cheeks as he held his dying partner. He could feel her heartbeat
slow. As if in slow motion JC lifted Kiyone's face to his and gently
pressed his lips to hers.
Kiyone looked up at her partner with blurred vision. A
gentle smile crossed her exotic features. "J...C...promise me...you'll
be good...For me...please..."
JC nodded. "Yes, of course." Tears long held back were
falling from his deep obsidian eyes like crystal raindrops.
Kiyone smiled. "I...love...you..." Blood ebbed from the
side of her mouth.
JC fell onto her body wailing in pain and loss.
Frank shook JC. "Hey man. You alright?"
JC looked at his pilot. "Huh? Oh yeah. Um...let's get outta
here. Maybe we'll luck out and I'll have made the papers again. You
know Rudy, he loves making me seem like some kind of hero."
Frank shook his head. "Rudy's a dick. I don't know why you read
that shit he writes."
JC smirked. "I like how he puts me on a pedestal. It's not
every hired gun that can be called a national hero."
"Rudy only thinks you're a hero cuz you didn't put a bullet in
his fat lard ass when he broke into your apartment last year."
JC smiled. "I would have if I had been home. And don't forget,
I'm the one that goes out at night and keeps the dope guys from pushing
their shit on our island."
Frank shook his head as he climbed into the pilot's seat and
fired up the engines. A few minutes later the pair were air born and
headed home.
JC had said goodbye to Frank at Sloppy Joe's earlier. He was
headed home to his small apartment down on Mallory Street. JC was
going home to tend to his bullet-ridden body and get some much needed
sleep.
The door to the apartment opened and revealed the large shadowed
figure of JC. The young assassin gave his living arrangements a once
over before he noticed that his answering machine was blinking. He
stepped over to the machine and recognized that he had messages on both
of his phone lines.
Too tired to think JC punched the button for line one. "Jesus
Christ here. I'm not home at the moment; I'm off saving more souls for
my Father's holy war. Yeah RIGHT!!! It's JC. I'm not home, so leave
a message."
The machine beeped and a strong male voice, with a German accent
spoke. "JC. Its Sven. I'll be in Key West next month. We need to
talk. See you on the fifth."
The machine beeped again, and a female with a slight Southern
twang began speaking. "JC honey. It's Darla. We missed you at the
club. Where ya been? Off on another of your business trips I bet.
Well we EXPECT you at the club when you get home. Kisses."
JC shook his head. "Fucking whores." The machine beeped again.
Another man was speaking, this time with a thick Russian accent.
"JC. I am Ivan, friend of Sven. He is dead. He no visit on day five.
This close deal. I no owe you anymore. Goodbye, hope you dead."
JC shrugged as he peeled off his sweat soaked black T-shirt.
"Fine by me Ivan. I would have killed him anyway."
"End of messages," a mechanical voice spoke. JC turned and
pushed the second line button. "Wonder who want's some work done this
week."
JC's voice played through the small apartment. "Bible Studies.
We're sorry no one was at the church when you called. Please leave
your name, number, and what book you require help with and we will
return your call in the order it was answered. Thank you." The
machine beeped and began playing the messages. JC walked into the
bedroom stripping off his clothes as he listened to the answering
machine.
"JC," a nervous sounding man spoke. "I need your services. It's
Don Lagusi. Please call me, you have my number."
JC scoffed. "Yeah right Don. You're a dead man on your own."
He picked up his toothbrush and ran it under the water in the sink.
"JC. This is Dayton Carloseeni. You're services are demanded.
We will contact you again. You will comply."
JC spit out the toothpaste and looked back at his phone. "No
way! Carloseeni?! Shit, I'm a dead man. I've got no chance to back
out or agree. SHIT!" JC slammed his fist into the wall next to the
bathroom mirror.
Three more messages played through. JC never paid attention to
the last messages. He was more interested in what the SEELE operative
had in mind for him.
Aimlessly JC bathed and pulled on a pair of boxers. Sleep did
not come easy that night as he wondered how much longer he would
survive now that the most powerful agency in the world had contacted
him. JC slept the sleep of the damned as he awaited his fate.
The morning came slowly to the Conch Republic and its citizens.
The island once considered to be a pirate's paradise was no longer the
Caribbean hot spot it had been fifteen years prior. A great storm
front slowly moved in over the island blotting out the famous Florida
sunshine.
The bars had long since emptied out as the owners cleaned them
for the coming night's travelers, roughnecks, citizens, and preachers.
When Second Impact wiped out Antarctica it also wiped out ninety
percent of the Florida Keys and Central America. When Key West's
famous Nine Mile Bridge was washed away in the rising tides the
American government wrote the whole string of islands off as a No Man's
Land.
Embargoes were placed on the few remaining people on the island.
The result was a catastrophic rise in pirates, drug runners, and
scavengers, almost over night. Along with these roughens came the
priests, monks, and convents. The world's churches believed that the
natives of the once famous Key West needed God's help, what they didn't
understand was that these people didn't want God they wanted what they
already had, only more of it.
Quickly the missionaries adapted to the laid back lifestyle.
Their convents, churches, and missions quickly became bars, whore
houses, and stores for guns, drugs, slaves, and whatever else needed to
find a way into American waters. Including the worst possible
inhabitants Key West had ever seen, the bounty hunters and assassins.
People quickly came to understand that the tourist trade of old
Key West was gone, and the new law in the Conch Republic was survival
of the fittest. The Key West Naval Air Station was renovated and
turned into Conch Republic Airlines, one of the few legitimate business
left on the island. For a few years after Impact the airport brought
tourists in from all over the world, but the pirates and bounty hunters
quickly rushed the tourists off.
Eventually the airline was turned into a shipping and export
agency by one of the crime lords that had chosen to make the No Man's
Land his home. Over the past ten years the airport had changed hands
so much that no one knew who owned it anymore. But the island natives
didn't care either, so long as it didn't affect their fishing,
drinking, and life in general it wasn't important.
JC's former island heritage was awakened in him as he woke up to
a dark clouded sky. Grabbing his kimono JC wrapped himself and exited
his apartment onto the beach to watch the sun rise. To the assassin's
surprise the sun had already risen and was now hiding behind the storm
front that was making its way to his home.
Returning to his apartment JC picked up the morning newspaper and
headed for his tiny kitchenette to make some semblance of a breakfast.
JC removed a loaf of bread, two eggs, a steak, a bowl of rice, and
multiple seasonings and began working up an island breakfast. All the
while his young mind was working through all the possible reasons a
SELEE operative would be contacting him.
JC's cooking skills rivaled those of his ability to field strip
an M-16. As flawlessly as needed to make sure the firing mechanism
didn't jam on the gun, JC's omelet took shape as he reviewed his stock
portfolio. "Monky$oft is down again, good. Linux is on the rise.
Excellent. Dodge is making a slow comeback...I hope they'll have
enough funds for the 2016 Viper.
"Hmmm... oh good Penguin Publishing is on the rise. I should
send them a manuscript sometime." JC flipped the eggs over before
turning the page. "Perfect. Magnum Research is back on the rise,
good, now might be time to call in for some replacement parts for my
Eagles, gods know I could use them."
JC reached over and sprinkled some garlic powder onto the steak
before flipping it and garnishing the opposing side. Humming to
himself JC flipped through the paper until he found what he was looking
for. The comics page. "Hmm...I wonder what mischief Charlie Brown has
gotten himself into."
JC read the through the "Peanuts Classics" comic with a chuckle.
"No Charlie don't trust her. She's never gonna let you kick that
football!" Sure enough Lucy had pulled the football away before
Charlie Brown got to the ball. "BAKA!" JC moved the steak onto a
plate next to the omelet, toast, and warm rice.
JC picked up his plate and moved to the small coffee table in the
front room. As he read through the rest of the comics the young killer
ate a healthy breakfast.
Thunder rumbled in the distance. Clouds rolled across the
crystal blue water of the Gulf of Mexico. Dark and ominous as the
place they were headed, the clouds moved as if somehow life had been
given to them.
Frank Bama looked out from the hanger of Lone Palm Airport over
the water. The tire swing attached to the lone palm tree swung madly
in the strong wind.
Billy Cruiser, an older man with graying hair stepped up next to
the man that was a son to him. "Frank. You look like that charter you
flew the other did a number on you and the Dancer."
Frank looked back to his friend. "Yeah. You know JC. Always
getting himself into trouble."
Billy shook his head. "I still don't understand why you fly that
guy around. You know what he dose for a living, you can't possibly
agree with it."
Frank nodded. "I don't. But he's pretty much the only one that
charters a flight with us anymore. Since they turned the old airstrip
over to commercial we've been dying."
"But still. The guy's an assassin. That can't be good news. I
mean guys like that attract trouble."
Frank nodded again. "Billy if you haven't noticed, Key West is
gone. There's no more fishing jaunts to the islands for fun, there's
no joy riding just to buzz the fucking Condo Commandos. This town's
gone back to the life it used to know. The pirates and assholes moved
in and took over.
"We have to change with the times. I don't like what JC does for
a job, but he's got his reasons for doing it. And from what I've
gathered he's actually a nice guy once you get past that whole
Hourglass Assassin persona Rudy Fucking Breno set him up with."
Billy ran his hand down the side of the Grumman Goose. "You do
have to admit. The guy has a LOT of hourglasses. I mean have you ever
seen a guy with that many hourglasses, hell I haven't seen a real
hourglass since I was a kid."
Frank was about to say something when the phone rang. "Will you
get that? I want to patch these holes before that storm moves in."
"Sure." Billy stepped back and turned to answer the phone. On
the other end of that line was a call that would change lives.
JC had finished his meal and washed the dishes. He was now
standing outside his apartment watching the storm coming in. Off in
the distance he could almost see what little that was left of Havana
being extirpated by the large waves and harsh winds.
Strange weather, frequent hurricanes, torrential rain storms had
all become the norm in the Conch. Nothing was what it used to be.
JC watched the waterspouts growing in the distance. "Hurricane's
brewing." The assassin sipped his coffee and turned to his apartment
where he could hear the phone ringing.
JC picked up the phone and pushed the second line. "Bible
studies. What book do you need help with?"
"Romans," a strong male voice answered.
"Hold please and I will transfer your call." JC set down the
phone and his coffee and sighed. He picked up the phone and answered
cheerily. "JC here. What do you need?"
"JC. Good. Its Carloseeni."
"Ah, Mr. Carloseeni. I've been waiting for your call. How may I
be of service to you?"
"We require your services. We're faxing you the picture of the
target now."
As Carloseeni said that a paper slowly made its way out of the
fax machine. JC took a look at the paper as it transmitted.
"I have the fax coming in now. What's this man worth to you?"
"200 million."
"Lira, Yen, or dollars?"
"Dollars."
JC ripped the paper from the fax machine and placed it next to
the phone without looking at it. "What kind of problems am I looking
at with this person?"
"He's a computer expert, intense survival instinct, and fast
talker. Do NOT allow yourself to be persuaded by this man, I can not
stress this enough. He has already talked three assassins out of
killing him, all of which are now dead in his place."
JC scoffed. "Please. I'm a professional. I do my job and I do
it well. No target has ever survived me."
Carloseeni snickered. "That's why we hired you. Your past
association with the target and NERV makes you the best man for the
job. We assume you have accepted this assignment." It was not a
question and did not hold any query, the man knew JC's answer.
"Si, si. I accept. I'll expect 100 thousand transmitted to my
offshore account within ten minutes of the end of this conversation.
If the money is not there I will assume you have backed out and I will
not be able to accept any more work from you. Is that agreeable?"
Carloseeni paused for a moment. "Yes, that is. Now you
understand that if you are captured, killed, or otherwise inaccessible
we will not be help accountable for you, correct."
JC nodded. "I know how SEELE works. This man will be dead by
the end of the month. Do not worry."
"We do not worry. You are privileged to still be alive knowing
for whom you were hired. We were unprepared when we learned you knew
who SEELE was."
JC scoffed. "It wasn't hard to understand. Once the original
Magi system had been hacked back in the GERHIN days it was not entirely
complicated to determine who was pulling NERV's strings.
"Guard that information well. If Ikari learns that you are aware
of our existence...well I do not need to elaborate. You are a man of
death, you understand."
"The job has been accepted. Good bye." JC slammed the phone
down onto the receiver. "Fucker. Threatening me like that. I swear
if they didn't pay so well I'd have hunted them all down and killed
them by now."
JC lifted the paper off the table and made his way to his bedroom
for a morning shower. As he studied the picture of a familiar looking
man he wondered what he had done to cause SEELE such heartache that
they hadn't used their own people to dispose of him.
As JC removed his robe retrospection hit him. He reread the
man's name three more times before he understood why it looked so
familiar. Even though it was written in Kanji he could still make out
the familiar symbols that showed the man's name to be Ryouji Kaji.
JC dropped the printout and fell onto the bed. Blankly he stared
at the smiling picture of his old friend from Germany. A single tear
began to form at the edge of his eye as he was struck by a memory from
a life almost forgotten.
The scavengers had blown a hole in the wall and were now
pushing their way inside the fortified building. Taking care not to
kill anyone they pushed their way towards the ammunitions and food
supply storage.
With stealth on their side the scavengers were pushing
their way through the building. As the security and engineering teams
made their way to the multiple holes in the walls the main party
silently made their way to the storage areas.
JC pulled back the muzzle of his Desert Eagle pistol,
chambering one of the few uranium depleted rounds he was carrying.
These scavengers had taken from him the one thing that meant more to
him than his own life, and he was out for revenge.
With the round chambered JC checked that his Kevlar lined
uniform was in stable condition. In the initial explosion some debris
had struck him. His uniform was in reasonable condition. He would
survive this day, if for no other reason than to extract his revenge.
JC steadied himself against the wall and slowed his
breathing. Inhaling and exhaling slowly JC timed each breath with each
beat of his heart. His NERV training had succeeded in allowing him to
become a proficient killer, something these scavengers would not live
to regret.
The group of scavengers made their way towards the
ammunitions dump. As they neared the sounds of explosions and gunfire
became less and less until it had all but disappeared from the
background. The group's leader shrugged the silence off as his teams
being caught or running, either way he didn't care, his team was
nearing its objective.
JC exhaled and jumped out from his corner, his Eagle at the
ready. Before the coming group of people knew what had happened JC had
fired the deadly explosive round off at them. With a sharp inhale JC
retreated around the corner to await the coming explosion.
The explosion came, blowing great amounts of smoke, blood,
and human body parts in JC's direction. JC steadied himself and
stepped into the smoke. Before him were the remains of a group of
fifteen men and women wearing rags and tattered clothing. Among them
the young NERV security officer noticed something familiar.
JC stepped towards the glint he could barely make out in
the smoke. As JC neared the glint became recognizable as a piece of
metal, more specifically a silver ring. JC kneeled down and picked up
the hand that the ring was attached to. Attached to that ring was a
man of Latin American decent that seemed familiar to JC.
As JC looked at the ring it struck him why it was familiar. It
had been a gift to a friend he knew in Key West, before the pirates had
arrived. JC looked at the man and finally understood why he looked
familiar...it was his friend from Key West. "C-C-Carlos..." JC
stammered, "NOOOOO!!!" JC fell over on his friend's chest crying.
JC was found the next day among the dead. Immediately he
too was presumed dead, until one of the officers woke him. For the
next twenty-four hours JC continuously mumbled the same phrase to
himself and anyone in earshot. "I have betrayed my friends. I live
upto my name. I have betrayed my friends. I live upto my name."
JC shook the memory away as he stood up. "Not again. Never
again will I be forced to kill my friends. Kaji, I will save you.
Somehow I will save you, even if it costs me my life."
*Chibi Dude Slayer does official author's jig*
TDS: Thanks man. *tosses CDS a Jolt*
CDS: *squeals in delight*
TDS: *looks to camera* Well folks, how do you like the first
chapter of Justice Complete? Pretty good ne? I think so. Of course
when I set out to write this it was going to be a one shot. But after
that last scene I just couldn't help myself. I'm a master of suspense.
Anyone in Meatspace that knows me can vouch for that.
CDS: No shit. He's an ass for suspense, but he does it pretty
damn well too.
TDS: *looks confused* Was that a complement?!
CDS: Yeah, so? Nani? Am I not allowed to complement you now
and again?
TDS: No, no...its jut that you don't do it often so it catches
me off guard when you do it.
CDS: :p
TDS: *shakes head* So, can anyone tell what JC's name is? I'll
give you a hint, its NOT Jesus Christ. The answering machine thing was
to keep slightly with Eva's use of the Christian religion, plus its
kind of a personal joke with me and my friends. They say I have a god
complex, I just say I'm a writer. You decide.
CDS: *walks by munching on a candy bar* God complex!
TDS: Shut up! You're not in on this. *looks to camera*
Anyway. This story came about in a few different ways. When I
originally set out to write an Eva story it was going to be like some
of my other early writing. I was going to self-insert as the Sixth
Child. But that plan fell through when I began reading some of the
self-insert fics and got disgusted by them.
So I decided to take a new direction. I began looking for
a way to continue my "PS: This is Asuka" songfic. That too fell
through, because I was going to AGAIN write JC in as a Child. This
time as a suicidal pilot with a care-free attitude. Fucked up you say,
I agree and that's why that fic will never see the light of day.
Now while I was sitting in Psychology the other day I was
struck with inspiration. My instructor was reviewing Multiple
Personalities and psychological effects of abuse and it got me
thinking. Eva is full of fucked up people in need of psych help, and
that is where my next fic will take place. I'll be sending Shinji to a
shrink in a one shot I'll do after Justice Complete is finished.
Now you're wondering where this babble is headed, well here
you go. As I began doodling ideas for fics, and what to do with JC I
came up with an idea. I began rummaging through my books and found
Jimmy Buffett's "Where is Joe Merchant" and began reading it, again.
Within that book came the inspiration for this story. Why not have an
assassin show up. Someone has to eventually "kill" Kaji right? So why
not have someone that knows him do the job.
And that's where this story built up from. Now I must say
Jimmy Buffett owns Frank Bama, Billy Cruiser, Rudy Breno, and the
Hemisphere Dancer and Lone Palm airport. Ginax owns Kaji, Misato, NERV,
GERHIN, SEELE, and Ritsuko. I can't remember who owns Charlie Brown
and the Peanuts comics, but it sure ain't me. All I own is the
Hourglass Assassin/JC, who has emerged as an ACC no longer is he an SI.
CDS: Don't look at me, I have nothing to say this time around.
TDS: *looks surprised* Uh...yeah. I'll take him to the vet
later this week and get him checked out. I'm worried too. Now if
anyone has any questions, comments, flames, or suggestions please feel
free to e-mail me or stop by my website.
redrum124@bigfoot.com
http://the_dude_slayer.tripod.c om/Home.html
Ja ne.
Justice Complete
Part 1
The sun was shining brightly over the expansive campus. The
trees provided perfect cover as a shadowy figure made its way across
the campus towards the Science building.
Kaji and Misato patiently waited outside the Academy's Science
building. As per usual Misato was coming to retrieve the day's notes
from her roommate. As they waited, unbeknownst to them a shadowy
figure closed the distance between himself and them.
Silently a tanned man of Latino origin neared the pair of lovers.
His short ebony hair framed his carefree face. The obsidian trenchcoat
he wore billowed in the gentle wind as he stalked. A smile made its
way to his deep tan features.
Kaji gently rubbed Misato's back as they waited. "When does she
get out of class?"
Misato grabbed Kaji's arm and looked at his wristwatch, also
providing him the chance to cop a feel. "Ten minutes." She released
his arm. "And don't grope me in public," she giggled childishly.
Kaji smiled as he leaned back against the bench. "Hai, hai."
The shadow man watched as he stepped up behind the pair of Asian
lovers. Neither seemed to notice him standing there, until Ritsuko
arrived.
Ritsuko appeared almost out of nowhere beside Kaji. She paid no
mind to the man standing behind her friends. Ritsuko opened her
notebook and handed over a pile of papers to the happy smiling purple
haired woman. "Misato, if you keep skipping class you will never
graduate." Ritsuko sternly scolded her roommate.
Misato grinned cutely at the blonde. "Chill out Ritsu."
Ritsuko glared as she stood up. "I have work to do. I'll see
you three later." Deftly Ritsuko walked away from the group. When she
was a few meters away she turned and looked back. "Hey Jude!" She
smirked and continued across the campus.
Misato and Kaji shared a confused look before looking behind
them. Standing there was a tall man dressed in all black, including a
pair of black mirror shades.
Misato smiled as she jumped at the man and hugged him fiercely.
"JC-kun!!!"
Kaji stood and walked beside his girlfriend. "JC." Kaji stuck
his hand out, which JC shook.
"Kaji. Kit Kat." JC grinned devilishly. "I wish Rit-chan
hadn't done that."
Misato smiled. "Why? Were you trying to sneak a peek?"
JC pulled a CD from his coat. "Why, when I have surveillance
from your apartments."
Both Kaji and Misato shared a surprised and almost angry look.
JC chuckled. "All that surveillance training and late night Bond
movies have come in handy." JC turned the CD over and showed it was
Santana's "Supernatural".
Misato growled. "Baka." She smiled quickly. "If you weren't
such a good friend."
JC smirked. "I know." He snapped his fingers. "Before I
forget. I'm having a party at my place tomorrow night. Could you find
Rit-chan and tell her?"
Kaji nodded. "Sure thing."
JC bowed slightly. "Arigoto." He turned on his heel and
disappeared into the throng of students.
It wasn't until after he was gone that Misato and Kaji noticed
that the entire conversation had taken place in Japanese. By then
their American friend was long gone.
The next night JC's apartment was full of drunken college
students. The party had long since hit full swing. Misato had
finished off her twelfth Guinness and was starting in on a new one.
Kaji was downing tequila shots with a large red haired man of Irish
decent. JC and Ritsuko were sharing stories of job opportunities.
A strange Calypso drum beat sounded from the expensive sound
system lining one wall of the apartment. Its calming steel drum sound
providing enough beat to keep couples dancing and still allowing people
to talk.
JC looked around the room as the song neared its end. He stood
and asked if Ritsuko would excuse him. When she nodded he bowed and
moved off to the stereo. Silently JC's hand came out and lowered the
volume of the music.
The crowd in the room turned, ready to kill the offending party.
Once everyone's attention was on him JC smiled. He held up his hands
in defense of his actions.
"Welcome everyone." JC's thick Spanish accent contrasted greatly
with the German he was speaking. "I want to than you all for attending
this little soiree." He grinned happily. "Unlike most of my parties,
which were mostly Misato's idea," most of the guests laughed, "this
party is being held for a serious reason."
JC took a deep breath and steadied himself. As his friends
watched he noted the looks on each of their faces. "GERHIN contacted
me earlier this week. Seems that the security teams there accepted my
application. I'll be headed for Tokyo the day after tomorrow."
A collective gasp could be heard. Everyone gathered knew that
JC's goal was to join GERHIN security, maybe even make it to Section 2
someday. Of course no one expected him to succeed in getting that
position with another year to go at the Academy.
Kaji, always the suave one, crossed the room to his friend. "JC.
We are all shocked to hear that you will not be with us next semester.
But we are all happy for you as well. You got the job you were hoping
for." He flashed a familiar, calming smile to his friend and the room
of people. "So why don't we all make your last day in Germany a
blast!"
The room exploded in the cheers of twenty drunken college
students. The music returned to its previous decibel level. The
drinks flowed and the party continued as if it had never been
interrupted.
Kaji waved Misato and Ritsuko towards the balcony as he led JC
through the mass of people to where they could enjoy some quite place
to talk. When the four friends met up on the balcony JC took his usual
spot, leaning against the rail directly in front of the patio doors.
He leaned over the rail looking out over the campus that had been his
home for almost five years.
JC turned and looked at his close Japanese friends. "Well guys.
It's been a blast knowing you all. Gotta say, I enjoyed every minute
of it. And I'll miss you, that includes you Rit-chan."
Misato, always the emotional one, ran to her older friend and
wrapped her arms around him. She hugged ardently, nearly crushing her
tan friend's rib cage. "Why?" A small stream of warm tears fell from
her eyes soaking her friend's black satin shirt.
JC stroked Misato's hair, trying to calm her. "Shhh. Kit Kat,
please, don't cry." Vainly he attempted to blink back the tears
threatening to fall down his face. "We all knew this day was going to
happen soon enough. When we joined the Academy we knew that someday
we'd have to leave the friends we'd made here." He lifted Misato's
chin so he could look into her eyes. "I'll be in Tokyo 3. You and
Rit-chan will be there soon enough. I promise; someday we'll all meet
up there."
Kaji looked at his friend and then to his girlfriend. A slight
ping of jealousy flickered through him. He pushed it away and scolded
himself. "JC's right. We'll all be hanging out together before you
notice the time had past."
A shadowy figure stood at the edge of a small hill over looking a
valley. The only thing in the valley was an expensive villa. He
placed the binoculars down and picked up the sniper rifle sitting next
to him.
The night sky was filled with clouds of all sorts. The moon was
nearly blocked out, which suited the man just fine. He preferred the
darkness when he worked.
Kneeling down the man lifted the elongated rifle to his right
eye. He looked through the night vision scope attached to the rifle.
Directly in his line of sight was a largely obese man in a white suit.
He paced back and forth nervously. The man looked at the hourglass on
his desk.
The white sands filtered through the hole into the glass's bottom
section. Time was running out for him, and he knew it. The Hourglass
Assassin had delivered the glass almost exactly twenty four hours ago.
Finally the last grain of sand had fallen through the glass, his
reckoning was here.
The shadow man lay down on the wet grass of the hill. The rain
earlier had soaked everything in the Colombian valley. The miles of
marijuana, opium, and other plants happily fed off the sweet humid
water. The rain also provided that anyone on foot would have a hard
time following the man.
Inhaling deeply the man steadied his rifle on a rock. As he held
his breath, he slowly pulled back on the trigger. Halfway back the man
slowly exhaled and pulled the trigger back, firing the high speed round
from his weapon.
A second later the fat man fell to the floor, dead. Two seconds
later his bodyguard was dead next to him. Two seconds after that the
guard outside the door was dead. None of them knew they were dead
until it had been too late.
The shadow man sat up and quickly began disassembling his rifle.
As he carefully removed each piece he placed it in its waterproof carry
bag. The gun easily came apart and was stored within seconds. The
shadow man stood and carried the case to the "borrowed" Jeep a few
meters away, where he'd stored the rest of his gear.
The man placed the gun in the back with his other rifles and
pulled out a large RPG-3 launcher. He cocked a large red, black, and
yellow grenade into the launcher and steadied it on his shoulder.
Aiming the hefty weapon the shadow figure steadied himself against the
Jeep and fired, sending the grenade along its intended path.
The house exploded in a fireball of immense proportions. Which
only grew as the second shot was fired destroying what was left of the
house and the fields.
The man tossed the launcher into the Jeep and sighed. Another
drug-lord another multimillion. He climbed into the front seat and
turned the engine over. As quietly as possible the man drove off into
the night and to the closest bar.
A few hours later wearing black jeans, a black T-shirt, and a
black trenchcoat a shadowy figure tread into a small saloon. He found
his way to an empty stool at the bar where he ordered a bottle of Jack
Daniel's. The Hourglass Assassin drank himself to sleep that night.
Sometime in the mid-afternoon something awoke the assassin. It
was the feel of someone tapping on his aching skull. Not a good thing
to do to someone with a hangover, even worse when that person can kill
you forty-seven different ways unarmed. The Assassin reached up and
grabbed the person's arm and pushed it off his back and down, breaking
it at the elbow.
The man fell to the ground screaming in pain. The Assassin stood
and walked to the front door of the saloon, where thirty men in Kevlar
with large guns waited. The Assassin reached into his trenchcoat and
removed the pair of Navy SEAL issue Dessert Eagles, carefully he
checked for possible jams and that the 32 shot magazines were full.
Positive on both accounts.
The Assassin replaced one of the guns and reached into his
pocket. Happily he found he did indeed have a single grenade left.
Placing a pair of earplugs in his ears he pulled the pin on the device
and threw it out the door of the saloon. The resulting explosion
killed at least three people and destroyed one car.
Sneaking through the back door, the Assassin carefully made his
way through the underbrush. Desperately he hoped he'd make it to the
waiting plane. As he snuck away from his would be killers he wondered
if Frank was still waiting on him, or if the pilot had left yet. He
WAS almost two hours late.
Frank Bama sat in his plane fuming. He'd been here almost three
hours, and would have left already if the man he was picking up hadn't
been his best customer. For the past three years this guy had
repeatedly hired him for jaunts to all parts of the world. Frank never
asked questions, it wasn't his place.
He knew his client was a Key West native, like himself. That
made finding each other easier. Frank also knew that whatever job his
client had it ensured that he carried a LOT of firepower. Frank knew
the man couldn't be a drug runner, because he could have afforded his
own plane. Frank sighed figuring the man was either a bounty hunter or
an assassin, either of which he didn't want to know.
A flash of light glinted off the horizon catching Frank's eye.
Frank shot up in his seat and began searching all bands on his VHF
radio for any news. That's when he saw it. A black clad figure
running at him firing over his shoulder into the brush.
Bullets streaked past Frank's client, his client fired back.
Frank lowered the stairs allowing his client a way into the place
before he was killed.
The Assassin rolled out of the underbrush firing like mad. As
he'd been running a patrol had stumbled upon him, causing this present
fire fight. Swearing he looked down to his left arm where a small hole
had been ripped open by the high caliber bullet that had ripped through
his upper left triceps.
'The wound can wait 'til I get on the plane' he thought as he
released the clip in his right gun and quickly replaced it. With a
flip of his wrist he dropped his sunglasses into place, activating the
infrared sensors built in. In the distance he could see three people
moving in from his immediate right, two coming straight at him, and one
large mass moving in from the left.
Cursing the Assassin holstered his left gun and began patting
down his trenchcoat for any explosives he might have left. 'Damn! Now
I wish I hadn't hit the bar last night. I could use that RPG
launcher.' Shrugging the man turned his Desert Eagle's laser sight on.
Taking careful aim he fired two bullets in front on himself, taking out
both of the men.
Not caring to press his luck the Assassin cocked the large,
powerful pistol and ran for the seaplane that was slowly starting its
dual prop engines.
Frank ran a hand through his light brown hair. "Come on man.
Where are you." Frank could easily see the men with the guns coming at
him, and the last thing he wanted were holes in his plane. Frank
pushed the throttle up hoping the propellers would get started.
"I hate cold start ups." Frank primed the pumps on the number
two engine repeatedly hoping it would turn over. "Come on baby. Don't
let me down now."
The Assassin fired off two more shots to his left. Two more men
went down. The bullets still flew by his face. Not wanting to waste
any time the Assassin ran full sprint towards the plane. Occasionally
he could feel a bullet or two bounce off his Kevlar lined trenchcoat,
making him glad he didn't break down and buy the leather like he'd
originally planed.
"FRANK! FIRE THE ENGINES!" The Assassin threw himself into the
cargo hold of the old Grumman Goose. Just as he was pulling the gang
plank up a large Latino man in khakis with an old AK-47 jumped onto the
plane. The Assassin kicked the man in the side of the head and pulled
the stairs up before anyone else could get inside.
Frank fired up the engines and taxied the large plane off the
runway and into the air. The Hemisphere Dancer was soon on its way back
home to the Conch Republic. Out of nowhere a shot rang out, scaring
Frank, who took a look back behind him into the cargo hold.
The Assassin shot the man between the eyes, not caring about the
blood on his clothes or Frank's plane. Silently he pushed the safety
down on his pistol and began checking for jams and possible problems.
Finding none he holstered the weapon and lifted the man into a
fireman's hold.
The Assassin opened the gangplank and threw the man out of the
low flying plane, into the Colombian rain forest. He closed the door
and leaned against the bulkhead letting his adrenaline and heart beat
slow down.
Frank turned back to his controls and was soon flying himself and
his crazy client back home. The plane was quiet except for the
constant hum of the engines. Frank was happy he'd survived this trip.
The Assassin stood up and took a deep breath, which he slowly
released through his teeth. He walked to the copilot's seat where he
sat down. He picked up the headset and placed it over his ears.
"Frank, you hear me?"
"Roger that JC. Whatcha need?"
The Assassin touched his shoulder. "First aid kit. You got one
around here?"
Frank nodded. "Yeah. Behind your seat there should be one."
The Assassin reached behind his seat and found what was indeed a
large First Aid kit. He began rummaging through it looking for some
painkillers and antiseptic. The man found the antiseptic and poured it
on his wound, causing him to wince painfully.
Frank watched as his client pulled a pocketknife out of his
pocket and began digging around in his left shoulder. He'd seen guys
doing this back during the Post Second Impact wars. Quicker than a
doctor or field medic, and usually more trustworthy too. His client
pulled an unexploded shell from his shoulder and sighed.
The Assassin looked at the shell in his hands. "Fucking
bastards. They weren't trying to just kill me, they were gonna blow me
up." He smirked. "Too bad for them they failed." The man reached
into his pocket and removed a large radio detonator.
The Assassin pushed the single red button on the remote. Far
behind the plane a giant plume of black smoke and fire pushed its way
into the sky. He tossed the detonator into the back of the plane with
his coat.
Frank looked at his client. "JC, you gonna be alright?"
JC nodded. "I'll survive. It'll take a day or two at the beach,
some time at Sloppy Joe's, and maybe a visit by the hospital for some
painkillers. But yeah, I'll survive."
"That's good."
"That it is. Oh before I forget. We need to stop by No See Her
Cay before we go back to the Conch."
Frank looked confused. "Why?"
JC raised an eyebrow at the pilot. "I assumed you'd want to be
paid. But if not, let's just head back to the Conch."
"No, no, no. We'll stop. It's just..."
"I know. No one stops by the Cayman Islands nowadays. But my
bank is there, so we need to stop off."
"Why the Caymans?"
JC looked at his pilot. "Good interest rates, annual return of
12%, and no taxes."
Frank nodded. "Good point." Frank turned the plane Northeast
and headed for the Cayman Islands.
JC walked back to the plane counting through a stack of bills.
He stepped upto Frank and handed him the stack. "Six thousand four
hundred, just like we agreed."
Frank quickly counted the money for himself. He looked up at
JC's smiling face. "I'd ask how you make all this money, but after
that little shoot-out earlier I think I know."
JC shrugged. "What can I say Frank. Pirates aren't the only
one's that kill people." JC pulled his coat closed. "Anyway. I only
go for evil people. Drug dealers, mob bosses, politicians, military
leaders, that kind of people. Women, children, and innocents are a no
go with me."
"An assassin with morals. Will wonders never cease?"
JC shrugged. "I don't know man. All I know is that I'm paying
the bills for both of us." JC smiled happily. "So you wanna swing by
Sloppy Joe's and grab a beer when we get back?"
Frank looked JC over and shrugged. "Why not. Just tell me one
thing. What made you chose to become an assassin?"
JC shivered as he remembered something.
"Kiyone! Kiyone!" A younger JC dragged himself across the
floor of the smoke filled armaments building. He and his partner had
been separated in the initial blast.
A young woman dressed in a black NERV Security uniform
coughed. She was leaning against a wall holding her right side. Blood
seeped from the gaping hole that a few minutes ago had been her right
arm. "J...C..." she coughed again, a small rivulet of blood dripped
from her mouth.
JC fell to his knees. "Kiyone! NO!" Tears flowed down
JC's cheeks as he held his dying partner. He could feel her heartbeat
slow. As if in slow motion JC lifted Kiyone's face to his and gently
pressed his lips to hers.
Kiyone looked up at her partner with blurred vision. A
gentle smile crossed her exotic features. "J...C...promise me...you'll
be good...For me...please..."
JC nodded. "Yes, of course." Tears long held back were
falling from his deep obsidian eyes like crystal raindrops.
Kiyone smiled. "I...love...you..." Blood ebbed from the
side of her mouth.
JC fell onto her body wailing in pain and loss.
Frank shook JC. "Hey man. You alright?"
JC looked at his pilot. "Huh? Oh yeah. Um...let's get outta
here. Maybe we'll luck out and I'll have made the papers again. You
know Rudy, he loves making me seem like some kind of hero."
Frank shook his head. "Rudy's a dick. I don't know why you read
that shit he writes."
JC smirked. "I like how he puts me on a pedestal. It's not
every hired gun that can be called a national hero."
"Rudy only thinks you're a hero cuz you didn't put a bullet in
his fat lard ass when he broke into your apartment last year."
JC smiled. "I would have if I had been home. And don't forget,
I'm the one that goes out at night and keeps the dope guys from pushing
their shit on our island."
Frank shook his head as he climbed into the pilot's seat and
fired up the engines. A few minutes later the pair were air born and
headed home.
JC had said goodbye to Frank at Sloppy Joe's earlier. He was
headed home to his small apartment down on Mallory Street. JC was
going home to tend to his bullet-ridden body and get some much needed
sleep.
The door to the apartment opened and revealed the large shadowed
figure of JC. The young assassin gave his living arrangements a once
over before he noticed that his answering machine was blinking. He
stepped over to the machine and recognized that he had messages on both
of his phone lines.
Too tired to think JC punched the button for line one. "Jesus
Christ here. I'm not home at the moment; I'm off saving more souls for
my Father's holy war. Yeah RIGHT!!! It's JC. I'm not home, so leave
a message."
The machine beeped and a strong male voice, with a German accent
spoke. "JC. Its Sven. I'll be in Key West next month. We need to
talk. See you on the fifth."
The machine beeped again, and a female with a slight Southern
twang began speaking. "JC honey. It's Darla. We missed you at the
club. Where ya been? Off on another of your business trips I bet.
Well we EXPECT you at the club when you get home. Kisses."
JC shook his head. "Fucking whores." The machine beeped again.
Another man was speaking, this time with a thick Russian accent.
"JC. I am Ivan, friend of Sven. He is dead. He no visit on day five.
This close deal. I no owe you anymore. Goodbye, hope you dead."
JC shrugged as he peeled off his sweat soaked black T-shirt.
"Fine by me Ivan. I would have killed him anyway."
"End of messages," a mechanical voice spoke. JC turned and
pushed the second line button. "Wonder who want's some work done this
week."
JC's voice played through the small apartment. "Bible Studies.
We're sorry no one was at the church when you called. Please leave
your name, number, and what book you require help with and we will
return your call in the order it was answered. Thank you." The
machine beeped and began playing the messages. JC walked into the
bedroom stripping off his clothes as he listened to the answering
machine.
"JC," a nervous sounding man spoke. "I need your services. It's
Don Lagusi. Please call me, you have my number."
JC scoffed. "Yeah right Don. You're a dead man on your own."
He picked up his toothbrush and ran it under the water in the sink.
"JC. This is Dayton Carloseeni. You're services are demanded.
We will contact you again. You will comply."
JC spit out the toothpaste and looked back at his phone. "No
way! Carloseeni?! Shit, I'm a dead man. I've got no chance to back
out or agree. SHIT!" JC slammed his fist into the wall next to the
bathroom mirror.
Three more messages played through. JC never paid attention to
the last messages. He was more interested in what the SEELE operative
had in mind for him.
Aimlessly JC bathed and pulled on a pair of boxers. Sleep did
not come easy that night as he wondered how much longer he would
survive now that the most powerful agency in the world had contacted
him. JC slept the sleep of the damned as he awaited his fate.
The morning came slowly to the Conch Republic and its citizens.
The island once considered to be a pirate's paradise was no longer the
Caribbean hot spot it had been fifteen years prior. A great storm
front slowly moved in over the island blotting out the famous Florida
sunshine.
The bars had long since emptied out as the owners cleaned them
for the coming night's travelers, roughnecks, citizens, and preachers.
When Second Impact wiped out Antarctica it also wiped out ninety
percent of the Florida Keys and Central America. When Key West's
famous Nine Mile Bridge was washed away in the rising tides the
American government wrote the whole string of islands off as a No Man's
Land.
Embargoes were placed on the few remaining people on the island.
The result was a catastrophic rise in pirates, drug runners, and
scavengers, almost over night. Along with these roughens came the
priests, monks, and convents. The world's churches believed that the
natives of the once famous Key West needed God's help, what they didn't
understand was that these people didn't want God they wanted what they
already had, only more of it.
Quickly the missionaries adapted to the laid back lifestyle.
Their convents, churches, and missions quickly became bars, whore
houses, and stores for guns, drugs, slaves, and whatever else needed to
find a way into American waters. Including the worst possible
inhabitants Key West had ever seen, the bounty hunters and assassins.
People quickly came to understand that the tourist trade of old
Key West was gone, and the new law in the Conch Republic was survival
of the fittest. The Key West Naval Air Station was renovated and
turned into Conch Republic Airlines, one of the few legitimate business
left on the island. For a few years after Impact the airport brought
tourists in from all over the world, but the pirates and bounty hunters
quickly rushed the tourists off.
Eventually the airline was turned into a shipping and export
agency by one of the crime lords that had chosen to make the No Man's
Land his home. Over the past ten years the airport had changed hands
so much that no one knew who owned it anymore. But the island natives
didn't care either, so long as it didn't affect their fishing,
drinking, and life in general it wasn't important.
JC's former island heritage was awakened in him as he woke up to
a dark clouded sky. Grabbing his kimono JC wrapped himself and exited
his apartment onto the beach to watch the sun rise. To the assassin's
surprise the sun had already risen and was now hiding behind the storm
front that was making its way to his home.
Returning to his apartment JC picked up the morning newspaper and
headed for his tiny kitchenette to make some semblance of a breakfast.
JC removed a loaf of bread, two eggs, a steak, a bowl of rice, and
multiple seasonings and began working up an island breakfast. All the
while his young mind was working through all the possible reasons a
SELEE operative would be contacting him.
JC's cooking skills rivaled those of his ability to field strip
an M-16. As flawlessly as needed to make sure the firing mechanism
didn't jam on the gun, JC's omelet took shape as he reviewed his stock
portfolio. "Monky$oft is down again, good. Linux is on the rise.
Excellent. Dodge is making a slow comeback...I hope they'll have
enough funds for the 2016 Viper.
"Hmmm... oh good Penguin Publishing is on the rise. I should
send them a manuscript sometime." JC flipped the eggs over before
turning the page. "Perfect. Magnum Research is back on the rise,
good, now might be time to call in for some replacement parts for my
Eagles, gods know I could use them."
JC reached over and sprinkled some garlic powder onto the steak
before flipping it and garnishing the opposing side. Humming to
himself JC flipped through the paper until he found what he was looking
for. The comics page. "Hmm...I wonder what mischief Charlie Brown has
gotten himself into."
JC read the through the "Peanuts Classics" comic with a chuckle.
"No Charlie don't trust her. She's never gonna let you kick that
football!" Sure enough Lucy had pulled the football away before
Charlie Brown got to the ball. "BAKA!" JC moved the steak onto a
plate next to the omelet, toast, and warm rice.
JC picked up his plate and moved to the small coffee table in the
front room. As he read through the rest of the comics the young killer
ate a healthy breakfast.
Thunder rumbled in the distance. Clouds rolled across the
crystal blue water of the Gulf of Mexico. Dark and ominous as the
place they were headed, the clouds moved as if somehow life had been
given to them.
Frank Bama looked out from the hanger of Lone Palm Airport over
the water. The tire swing attached to the lone palm tree swung madly
in the strong wind.
Billy Cruiser, an older man with graying hair stepped up next to
the man that was a son to him. "Frank. You look like that charter you
flew the other did a number on you and the Dancer."
Frank looked back to his friend. "Yeah. You know JC. Always
getting himself into trouble."
Billy shook his head. "I still don't understand why you fly that
guy around. You know what he dose for a living, you can't possibly
agree with it."
Frank nodded. "I don't. But he's pretty much the only one that
charters a flight with us anymore. Since they turned the old airstrip
over to commercial we've been dying."
"But still. The guy's an assassin. That can't be good news. I
mean guys like that attract trouble."
Frank nodded again. "Billy if you haven't noticed, Key West is
gone. There's no more fishing jaunts to the islands for fun, there's
no joy riding just to buzz the fucking Condo Commandos. This town's
gone back to the life it used to know. The pirates and assholes moved
in and took over.
"We have to change with the times. I don't like what JC does for
a job, but he's got his reasons for doing it. And from what I've
gathered he's actually a nice guy once you get past that whole
Hourglass Assassin persona Rudy Fucking Breno set him up with."
Billy ran his hand down the side of the Grumman Goose. "You do
have to admit. The guy has a LOT of hourglasses. I mean have you ever
seen a guy with that many hourglasses, hell I haven't seen a real
hourglass since I was a kid."
Frank was about to say something when the phone rang. "Will you
get that? I want to patch these holes before that storm moves in."
"Sure." Billy stepped back and turned to answer the phone. On
the other end of that line was a call that would change lives.
JC had finished his meal and washed the dishes. He was now
standing outside his apartment watching the storm coming in. Off in
the distance he could almost see what little that was left of Havana
being extirpated by the large waves and harsh winds.
Strange weather, frequent hurricanes, torrential rain storms had
all become the norm in the Conch. Nothing was what it used to be.
JC watched the waterspouts growing in the distance. "Hurricane's
brewing." The assassin sipped his coffee and turned to his apartment
where he could hear the phone ringing.
JC picked up the phone and pushed the second line. "Bible
studies. What book do you need help with?"
"Romans," a strong male voice answered.
"Hold please and I will transfer your call." JC set down the
phone and his coffee and sighed. He picked up the phone and answered
cheerily. "JC here. What do you need?"
"JC. Good. Its Carloseeni."
"Ah, Mr. Carloseeni. I've been waiting for your call. How may I
be of service to you?"
"We require your services. We're faxing you the picture of the
target now."
As Carloseeni said that a paper slowly made its way out of the
fax machine. JC took a look at the paper as it transmitted.
"I have the fax coming in now. What's this man worth to you?"
"200 million."
"Lira, Yen, or dollars?"
"Dollars."
JC ripped the paper from the fax machine and placed it next to
the phone without looking at it. "What kind of problems am I looking
at with this person?"
"He's a computer expert, intense survival instinct, and fast
talker. Do NOT allow yourself to be persuaded by this man, I can not
stress this enough. He has already talked three assassins out of
killing him, all of which are now dead in his place."
JC scoffed. "Please. I'm a professional. I do my job and I do
it well. No target has ever survived me."
Carloseeni snickered. "That's why we hired you. Your past
association with the target and NERV makes you the best man for the
job. We assume you have accepted this assignment." It was not a
question and did not hold any query, the man knew JC's answer.
"Si, si. I accept. I'll expect 100 thousand transmitted to my
offshore account within ten minutes of the end of this conversation.
If the money is not there I will assume you have backed out and I will
not be able to accept any more work from you. Is that agreeable?"
Carloseeni paused for a moment. "Yes, that is. Now you
understand that if you are captured, killed, or otherwise inaccessible
we will not be help accountable for you, correct."
JC nodded. "I know how SEELE works. This man will be dead by
the end of the month. Do not worry."
"We do not worry. You are privileged to still be alive knowing
for whom you were hired. We were unprepared when we learned you knew
who SEELE was."
JC scoffed. "It wasn't hard to understand. Once the original
Magi system had been hacked back in the GERHIN days it was not entirely
complicated to determine who was pulling NERV's strings.
"Guard that information well. If Ikari learns that you are aware
of our existence...well I do not need to elaborate. You are a man of
death, you understand."
"The job has been accepted. Good bye." JC slammed the phone
down onto the receiver. "Fucker. Threatening me like that. I swear
if they didn't pay so well I'd have hunted them all down and killed
them by now."
JC lifted the paper off the table and made his way to his bedroom
for a morning shower. As he studied the picture of a familiar looking
man he wondered what he had done to cause SEELE such heartache that
they hadn't used their own people to dispose of him.
As JC removed his robe retrospection hit him. He reread the
man's name three more times before he understood why it looked so
familiar. Even though it was written in Kanji he could still make out
the familiar symbols that showed the man's name to be Ryouji Kaji.
JC dropped the printout and fell onto the bed. Blankly he stared
at the smiling picture of his old friend from Germany. A single tear
began to form at the edge of his eye as he was struck by a memory from
a life almost forgotten.
The scavengers had blown a hole in the wall and were now
pushing their way inside the fortified building. Taking care not to
kill anyone they pushed their way towards the ammunitions and food
supply storage.
With stealth on their side the scavengers were pushing
their way through the building. As the security and engineering teams
made their way to the multiple holes in the walls the main party
silently made their way to the storage areas.
JC pulled back the muzzle of his Desert Eagle pistol,
chambering one of the few uranium depleted rounds he was carrying.
These scavengers had taken from him the one thing that meant more to
him than his own life, and he was out for revenge.
With the round chambered JC checked that his Kevlar lined
uniform was in stable condition. In the initial explosion some debris
had struck him. His uniform was in reasonable condition. He would
survive this day, if for no other reason than to extract his revenge.
JC steadied himself against the wall and slowed his
breathing. Inhaling and exhaling slowly JC timed each breath with each
beat of his heart. His NERV training had succeeded in allowing him to
become a proficient killer, something these scavengers would not live
to regret.
The group of scavengers made their way towards the
ammunitions dump. As they neared the sounds of explosions and gunfire
became less and less until it had all but disappeared from the
background. The group's leader shrugged the silence off as his teams
being caught or running, either way he didn't care, his team was
nearing its objective.
JC exhaled and jumped out from his corner, his Eagle at the
ready. Before the coming group of people knew what had happened JC had
fired the deadly explosive round off at them. With a sharp inhale JC
retreated around the corner to await the coming explosion.
The explosion came, blowing great amounts of smoke, blood,
and human body parts in JC's direction. JC steadied himself and
stepped into the smoke. Before him were the remains of a group of
fifteen men and women wearing rags and tattered clothing. Among them
the young NERV security officer noticed something familiar.
JC stepped towards the glint he could barely make out in
the smoke. As JC neared the glint became recognizable as a piece of
metal, more specifically a silver ring. JC kneeled down and picked up
the hand that the ring was attached to. Attached to that ring was a
man of Latin American decent that seemed familiar to JC.
As JC looked at the ring it struck him why it was familiar. It
had been a gift to a friend he knew in Key West, before the pirates had
arrived. JC looked at the man and finally understood why he looked
familiar...it was his friend from Key West. "C-C-Carlos..." JC
stammered, "NOOOOO!!!" JC fell over on his friend's chest crying.
JC was found the next day among the dead. Immediately he
too was presumed dead, until one of the officers woke him. For the
next twenty-four hours JC continuously mumbled the same phrase to
himself and anyone in earshot. "I have betrayed my friends. I live
upto my name. I have betrayed my friends. I live upto my name."
JC shook the memory away as he stood up. "Not again. Never
again will I be forced to kill my friends. Kaji, I will save you.
Somehow I will save you, even if it costs me my life."
*Chibi Dude Slayer does official author's jig*
TDS: Thanks man. *tosses CDS a Jolt*
CDS: *squeals in delight*
TDS: *looks to camera* Well folks, how do you like the first
chapter of Justice Complete? Pretty good ne? I think so. Of course
when I set out to write this it was going to be a one shot. But after
that last scene I just couldn't help myself. I'm a master of suspense.
Anyone in Meatspace that knows me can vouch for that.
CDS: No shit. He's an ass for suspense, but he does it pretty
damn well too.
TDS: *looks confused* Was that a complement?!
CDS: Yeah, so? Nani? Am I not allowed to complement you now
and again?
TDS: No, no...its jut that you don't do it often so it catches
me off guard when you do it.
CDS: :p
TDS: *shakes head* So, can anyone tell what JC's name is? I'll
give you a hint, its NOT Jesus Christ. The answering machine thing was
to keep slightly with Eva's use of the Christian religion, plus its
kind of a personal joke with me and my friends. They say I have a god
complex, I just say I'm a writer. You decide.
CDS: *walks by munching on a candy bar* God complex!
TDS: Shut up! You're not in on this. *looks to camera*
Anyway. This story came about in a few different ways. When I
originally set out to write an Eva story it was going to be like some
of my other early writing. I was going to self-insert as the Sixth
Child. But that plan fell through when I began reading some of the
self-insert fics and got disgusted by them.
So I decided to take a new direction. I began looking for
a way to continue my "PS: This is Asuka" songfic. That too fell
through, because I was going to AGAIN write JC in as a Child. This
time as a suicidal pilot with a care-free attitude. Fucked up you say,
I agree and that's why that fic will never see the light of day.
Now while I was sitting in Psychology the other day I was
struck with inspiration. My instructor was reviewing Multiple
Personalities and psychological effects of abuse and it got me
thinking. Eva is full of fucked up people in need of psych help, and
that is where my next fic will take place. I'll be sending Shinji to a
shrink in a one shot I'll do after Justice Complete is finished.
Now you're wondering where this babble is headed, well here
you go. As I began doodling ideas for fics, and what to do with JC I
came up with an idea. I began rummaging through my books and found
Jimmy Buffett's "Where is Joe Merchant" and began reading it, again.
Within that book came the inspiration for this story. Why not have an
assassin show up. Someone has to eventually "kill" Kaji right? So why
not have someone that knows him do the job.
And that's where this story built up from. Now I must say
Jimmy Buffett owns Frank Bama, Billy Cruiser, Rudy Breno, and the
Hemisphere Dancer and Lone Palm airport. Ginax owns Kaji, Misato, NERV,
GERHIN, SEELE, and Ritsuko. I can't remember who owns Charlie Brown
and the Peanuts comics, but it sure ain't me. All I own is the
Hourglass Assassin/JC, who has emerged as an ACC no longer is he an SI.
CDS: Don't look at me, I have nothing to say this time around.
TDS: *looks surprised* Uh...yeah. I'll take him to the vet
later this week and get him checked out. I'm worried too. Now if
anyone has any questions, comments, flames, or suggestions please feel
free to e-mail me or stop by my website.
redrum124@bigfoot.com
http://the_dude_slayer.tripod.c om/Home.html
Ja ne.