Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ The Black Hawke ❯ Snatch and Grab ( Chapter 18 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Mangetsu 
Hawke and Kenshin make their move...
Anime/Manga: Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Mystery / Hentai / Drama | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 02.01.2006 | Pages: 4 | Words: 5.1K | Visits: 1.8K | Status: Work In Progress
Hawke and Kenshin make their move...
Anime/Manga: Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Mystery / Hentai / Drama | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 02.01.2006 | Pages: 4 | Words: 5.1K | Visits: 1.8K | Status: Work In Progress
Thank-you, minna-san, for all the reviews and for the readers. It’s why I write. (Smile) God bless. Tsuki-san aka Mangetsu-san
Chapter Eighteen
Snatch and Grab
Ten-fifteen. That was the time on Daniel’s watch when he looked at it, the little florescent hands glowing in the dark of his car. He grumbled and adjusted his position in the seat, trying to find a comfortable place, but his backside still ached. He’d been sitting across the street from The Feathered Boa for nearly three hours now, and had yet to sign of either the scar-faced man or his girl-friend. The girl behind the front desk told him she saw them both leave around seven-thirty in his dirty, brown compact car, but had yet to see them come back.
So, he was on the stake-out. Alone.
The conversation with Marty came back to ghost through his mind, and he gritted his teeth at the thought that his superior even considered he might be on the take. It was the worst insult a cop with his years of service could endure, and it was one he never expected to be laid at his feet. It stung... he didn’t think things between him and Marty would ever be the same. Accusations like that can’t be taken back once they’re said. Daniel wondered how many other officers in the department thought the same thing Marty had. Growling low in his throat, he grabbed the coffee cup setting in his console and took a long drink. It was cold, but he really didn’t care. He’d had cold coffee before. There were worse things.
Absently he reached beneath his jacket and pulled his 9mm out of its shoulder holster. He popped the clip and checked the rounds, making sure it was full, then he put it back in, clicking it into place. Then he did something he never did.
He cocked the gun and put it back in the holster.
If he had to kill Makido to rescue the girl... he was alone. He needed to be ready. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw a car pull into the motel parking lot. Beneath the street lights it was a dirty, gray-brown compact with a dent in the front left fender. There were two people riding inside, and the one in the passenger seat appeared to be a woman.
Daniel pulled his night-vision binoculars out and watched the couple as they climbed out of the parked car. The man was tall and thin with shoulder length brown hair concealing most of his features. The woman was small, willowy with long dark hair hanging past her waist. She was skittish and nervous acting; looking around the parking lot and towards the office as if she could feel someone watching them. The man approached her and grabbed her roughly by the arm, yanking her around to face him. He said something to her and she nodded frantically, one hand braced on his chest. It was obvious she was afraid of him. He spoke again, grabbed her other arm and shook her hard, then tossed his hair out of his face and shoved her away.
At that moment, Daniel was gifted with a full feature view of the man and he zoomed in on his exposed face. The entire left cheek and part of his neck was covered with heavy scar tissue reminiscent of either road rash or burn. It was difficult to make a decisive judgement in the poor lighting. ‘Damn!’ Daniel lowered the binoculars and swore to himself. He was going to have to wait and see if something more concrete presented itself.
It was going to be a long night.
O.O
Aoshi and Kenshin slunk along the alley, melting into the darkness as if they were part of it. No sound followed their feet as they walked, no leaves rustled, no twigs snapped. They were shadows without form or context, and they moved on the wind, drifting like spirits of the dead, and the Wrath of the Black Hawke came with them.
Retribution was nigh, and even though he would never know they passed him by, Shishio Makido was about to make his first payment.
Worming their way around the backside of the motel, they slipped through naked shrubs and poorly tended trees, occasionally peering through the odd window until they found what they were looking for. Just as she said she would, Yumi left the back curtains open just a crack-enough for Hawke to see inside the room and count four people inside. Two men he didn’t know, Yumi, and Shishio.
One man was sitting shot-gun at the table next to the door, a 9mm strapped to his chest with cop-issue shoulder holster. He looked latino or asian; his black hair slicked back from a narrow face with dark eyes. He was drinking a beer and large number of empty bottles on the table proved everyone had been for awhile.
The other guy was also a stranger, but instead of a gun he was packing a six-foot ten something, muscle bound frame that looked like it belonged in a comic book. His long, dirty-blonde hair was hanging loose around his face in greasy strings that swung back and forth over his big nose while he moved around. His massive size made Kenshin look like a cockroach in comparison. At least it would be interesting if the two ever tangled.
Then there was Shishio, who looked for the world like he was passed out on the bed. He was barefoot, wearing jeans and a wife-beater. The burn scars along his chest, neck, and face were grossly apparent and Hawke pursed his lips. It was unusual that the kid let anyone see his scars at all, let alone show them off so blatantly like this. An uneasy feeling crept up his spine. Something felt bad about this, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Still...
“We need to wait for the boys to split up... you think?” He asked Kenshin, who was catching a peak through the window.
“Hmm, probably be the best idea. How do you want to go? Through the windows or the front door?”
“Guess we ought to see if anyone is at the front door, eh?”
“Guess so.”
Crouching low to the ground, they picked their way around the edge of the motel until they could peer around the outer corner into the parking lot. The car Yumi described to Aoshi was setting in one of the middle spaces. A dirty-brown Dodge Dart; two-door. Kenshin eased his way up to the car and looked into the windows. It was littered with garbage inside. Old fast-food wrappers, pop cans, shopping bags, and a few things he couldn’t quite figure out. All in all, it was a mess, but there wasn’t anyone inside. He waved Hawke over.
From behind the car, the two men looked across the lot toward the room. Number 5 had the drapes pulled shut and, sure enough, there was someone standing at the door.
“Figures.” Kenshin nodded toward the man who was just lighting up a cigarette. “Looks like him and blondie might be brothers.” He said, indicating the matching stringy mop of yellow hair hanging down the mans back. Hawke shook his head and motioned for Kenshin to move up along the car until they were peaking over the hood.
“Can you see what he’s packing from here?”
“Uhh... looks like an M16 to me. Geez, you’d think these guys knew something was up...” Kenshin froze mid sentence and then looked at his companion. “Do you think...”
“I don’t know, but I’ve had a bad feeling ever since I got a look at Shishio without his shirt on.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“That boy doesn’t get out of the shower without a shirt on... no one sees his scars-no one.” Hawke reached over his shoulder and pulled a short tubular object out of his special gear pack. “We need to get this party in motion, my friend, and get the hell outta here.”
“Works for me, man. You know how much I hate parties with people I don’t know.”
“Yeah...” With great care Hawke twisted, pulled, and silently slid the sections of the blow-gun apart until it reached its full length of just under five feet. “Got the darts?”
“Here...” Kenshin reached into his belt pack and retrieved a small tranquilizer dart, and handed it to Hawke. “Be careful. It doesn’t take much to pop these little babies.” Hawke nodded and slipped the little dart into the mouth piece of his gun. Then he eased the barrel over the hood of the car, aimed, and gave a short, sharp puff of air. The dart shot soundlessly out of the tube and a split instant later they watched as the guard at the door grabbed his arm. His voice was muffled by the distance as he cursed, grabbing at the dart, then he crumpled to the ground in a quiet heap of greasy hair and bad cloths.
“Hey,” Hawkei pursed his lips. “Fast little suckers.” Kenshin grinned and nodded.
“Told you.” He said, crouching in the gravel while Hawke disassembled his gun and put it away. “You decide yet if you want the windows or the front door?”
“Windows,” Hawke replied, scanning the parking lot for anymore activity. “We have some view of what’s going on inside there at least. Out here, we’re walking in completely blind and I don’t like this already... something’s wrong. Feel it yet?”
“Yeah,” Kenshin reached under his mask to scratch his nose. “The nose knows... let’s get it done.”
“In front or behind?”
“It’s your show...”
“Alright, but stay close. Got it?”
“On your ass.”
O.O
The tingling sensation in his numb buttocks caused Daniel to shift in the bucket seat of his car, a muffled curse on his breath as he moved into a new position, his thighs brushing against the steering wheel. It was close to eleven now and he was beginning to wonder if anything was going to happen tonight. So far, the parking lot was as dead as his brother’s love-life, which was saying a lot. Vince hadn’t been out on a date with anything resembling a woman in more than six years, and heaven only knew how old the condom in his wallet was.
As a rule, drug dealers were night owls. Everything went down in the dark, but nothing was going on here. There was some low-life standing outside the door of the room scar-face and his girl disappeared into, but other than that, not even the roaches were moving.
“Dammit,” he muttered, looking at his watch for the umteenth time. He’d give it until midnight and if nothing interesting went down, he’d call it a night and start over tomorrow. What else could he do? He wasn’t staying out here all night without back-up. Not unless he was planning on Lynette putting him in an early grave. A lone white-man parked in an unmarked car after twelve was just asking to get shaken down by one of the local gangs. He wasn’t willing to take that chance. He’d seen enough of what those little head-hunters were capable of when Richie was trolling with the Cryps... he didn’t need to be screwing around waiting to become one of their statistics.
He grimaced and gagged as he took a drink of his ice cold coffee. It never did taste the same after it sat a few hours, even if it was the expensive cappuccino. Once it got cold, it tasted just like the bitter cheap shit, but it still kept him awake better so he endured. It was better than nodding off and missing something. Reaching out through the dark of the cab, he fiddled with the controls of the radio and tried to find something obnoxious and irritating that would also help keep him awake and on his guard. An oldies hip-hop station that grated on his nerves was just the ticket.
Absented minded his fingers tapped the beat of an old Cindy Lauper song out on the edge of the door while he scanned the poorly lit road. There wasn’t a lot of traffic out tonight, which he found odd. Usually this side of town was swimming with junker cars and hot-rods full of drunk kids this time of night. Maybe he was getting out of touch with this end of the world. Since getting Richie out of the gangs a couple years back, he’d made it a point to try and stay out of this part of town as much as he could-at least at night. Maybe the action was getting hotter closer to the city center these days and the pimps and drugers were running their action there...
The flash of headlights turning a corner in front of him pulled his mind back on task, and he slumped down in the seat, watching as the car drove slowly down the street and then turned into the parking lot. Once it stopped, the man standing at the door approached it and starting talking to the people inside. Daniel watched the exchange carefully, looking for the telltale signs of money or packages changing hands, but saw nothing. Then the passenger door opened and a tall, slender man dressed in a black trench got out. From there things spun into slow motion as the man in black swung a double barreled shotgun out from under his coat and opened fire on door guard, the door, and the people who started to pour out of it. Blood and body parts spattered in all directions.
“Shots fired!” Daniel yelled into his police radio as he grabbed for his 9mm. “Shots fired at 21st and Bently Ave. Suspects down! I need back-up and an ambulance. Repeat-Shots fired! The Feathered Boa motel at 21st and Bently Ave.”
“Who is this?” Dispatch crackled over the reciever.
“Detective Daniel Livingston!” He yelled, opening the door. “I’m on stake-out at the Feathered Boa. Shots fired, dammit! Suspects down... send back-up!”
“I don’t have you assigned to back-up, Detective.” Silence met the dispatchers remark. “Detective Livingston? Detective, are you there? Detective?”
.
.
.
Daniel Livingston cocked his 9mm as he ran across the street. Four people were down and most likely dead, including the woman he feared was Yumi Komagata. As for Scar-face; he couldn’t see him anywhere. The man in black was inside the room now-the shotgun blasting like a cannon. ‘God, help me...’ He jumped the curb, ran to the woman, and knelt down. He knew she was dead before he touched her. Half of the back of her head was missing, the large blue eyes staring vacant and flat up into space. She’d been pretty once. The three men laying around her were dead too. The sound of raised voices coming from inside the room caught his attention and he stood up. Someone was still alive in there. It could be Scar-face... and then again...
Gripping his gun in standard attack/defense manner, Daniel approached the shattered door, praying he could catch the man in black by surprise and disarm him before he blew a hole a in his guts. There was always a chance that whatever went down inside had already done that, but then again... He wouldn’t know anything until he got there. He crept along the wall, listening to the angry voices, not really being able to make out what they were saying despite how close he was. The blood was pounding in his ears and the rush of adreneline in his system was making him dizzy. He’d never done anything like this without back-up. ‘Please, God... Lynette, Richie.... don’t let me die...’
He swung around the door frame, gun firmly in front of him, feet spread wide.
“Freeze, assholes!”
O.O
They stood outside the windows looking inside, gauging what they needed to do in order to get in and then what had to be done once they were there. When Blondie disappeared into the bathroom, Kenshin silently pulled a small, palm-sized box from his belt pack and removed several odd looking tools. With them he began to methodically cut the rim of one of the glass panes away from the metal casing. It took several minutes, but when he was finished, the glass eased out with barely a scrape, leaving the window open and without jagged, or sharp cutting edges. Their entry was hidden by the heavy floor-length curtains, and they slipped into the room undetected.
Easing out of the curtain barrier in the corner, both Kenshin and Hawke remained hidden in the dark shadow, surveying the room. Everyone was in the bedroom except for Blondie.
“High or low?” Kenshin asked, quiet as a deaths whisper.
“High.” Hawke caught his friends golden gaze and made motion for them to move on ‘one’. Kenshin nodded. Both men took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Hawke stood tall against the wall, his fists tight and ready for a fight. Kenshin crouched low, prepared to spring like a coiled snake at anything that crossed his path. As the breath dissipated, they moved forward like a piece of the inanimate come to life.
.
.
.
She saw it move, but didn’t believe it. It was like watching the wall turn into water. At first it was just there... the wall, and then it flexed and stretched out toward the room. Matter sifted and shifted and took on a new form right in front of her eyes, and if she wasn’t already so tired, she probably would have screamed or something else equally stupid. But, as it was, she was so fried and stressed, all she could do was sit and watch–her eyes huge, her jaw clenched as the back wall of the room literally separated from itself and started to grow into something else. Her eyes darted to the right where Ousi sat drinking beer and watching TV.
He was engrossed in some cop show as usual. She hated those horrible shows, but they kept him more entertained than just about anything else. He could watch them 24/7 and be perfectly content. She could never tell if he was laughing at the stupidity of the criminals or the jibes the cops made at them. It really didn’t matter, and at the moment, he was so glued to the tube he wasn’t even aware of her let alone anything else in the room. So, when the six foot ninja appeared out of no where to loom over him, he didn’t even have a chance to squeak an alarm to his sleeping boss or draw his gun before the sledge hammer fist slammed into the pressure point between his neck and shoulder.
Yumi watched in silent terror as Ousi slumped soundlessly in his chair. She turned a pale, mute face up to the tall figure, her mouth open in a wordless cry of frightened surprise, and she caught the glow of frosty, ice blue eyes over the top of the black mask.
‘Hawke?’
A sound behind him pulled him away from her, and she watched as he spun with an inhuman speed to confront the lumbering blonde as he plunged out of the bathroom, but at that moment the floor became as alive as the wall had been. Yumi covered her mouth as the gasp of a scream tried to claw it’s way free, while she watched a shadow fly upward and slam with a crushing force into the torso of the big man, legs wrapping around his neck, twisting hard to pull him to the floor. At the same moment, the tall ninja swept across the room to where Shishio lay sleeping, and smashed a fist into his face to make certain he remained that way.
A resounding ‘thud’ shuddered through the room as the smaller ninja brought the large man down, slamming his head into the hard into the floor. A low moan slithered through the quiet, then there was nothing. The small man rose to his feet and leaned down to check his victims pulse. A casual nod in the direction of the tall ninja stated the large man was still alive.
Yumi was confused.
“Wh-who...”
“Let’s go Yumi.”
“H-Hawke?” She was both relieved and afraid. “It is you?”
“Yes.” He reached up and pulled down the ninja mask to reveal his face. “I told you I was coming.” He held out a hand to her. “Now, let’s go.”
Her gaze shifted fearfully toward the bed where Shishio lay. She couldn’t take her eyes of him. If he ever found out what happened... if he knew what she’d done... “He’s going to kill me.” She said, not knowing she spoke her thoughts out loud.
“Not on my watch, girly.”
Glassy turquoise eyes shifted and looked into the face she knew so well. “You came for me,” she said in an absent voice. “You really came... after everything I did... you came anyway. Oh god....” Yumi began to cry, her arms wrapping around his neck. “I’m so sorry... I...”
“Hush, now.” He said, picking her up and carrying her to the window. “We’ll talk about all of this later. Let’s just get out of here. Himura?” Aoshi looked over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of the redhead checking pulses on his way out. “How’d we do?”
“No bodies... dammit.” His voice was full of mischief.
“Himura... I swear. I’m going to start to think you actually like to kill people.”
“Nah, just in the movies.” Kenshin’s good-natured chuckle drifted through the air as the two men backtracked to Aoshi’s car. They had gotten away with it so far. No complications. No bodies, and neither on of them with so much as a scratch.
“M-Mister Himura?” Yumi looked at the smaller man as he pulled the ninja mask off, revealing his long red tresses and now-violet eyes. “Is that you? You came too?”
“Sure thing, kiddo.” Kenshin smiled gently. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Why would you?”
“You’re one of Hawke’s kids, aren’t you?” He watched her nod as Hawke set her on her feet. “That makes you community property when it comes to being in trouble, and you definitely got yourself a passel of that, didn’t you?”
“Yes, sir.” Yumi hung her head and started fiddling with her fingers.
“You’re lucky Hawke is as forgiving as he is, little girl.” Kenshin’s voice turned hard. “He’s willing to do what he can to keep you out of prison, but you have to come up with your end of it... are you going to do that?”
“I...”
“States evidence, girl. You have to turn states evidence on your psycho boyfriend if you want to stay out of the gray-bar motel. That’s the only way... period. You willing to do that?”
“Y-yes.” She knew that was what it was going to come down to. Somehow when she’d made that last phone call, she knew. But, if Shishio was capable of killing her... it was a dog-eat-dog world and what was good for him was just as good for her. He’d called her his butter-fly... said he loved her... well, love hurts, doesn’t it?
Damn right, it does.
O.O
‘It’ll take more than one of your pussy punches to keep me down, wolf-boy...’
Shishio sat on the edge of the bed with the GPS tracker in one hand, the only rubbing a sore spot on his jaw where Hawke had punched him. There was a sly, slimy smile curling over his thin lips as he watched the little red blip on the screen maneuver through the maze of streets that was New York and Manhattan. Such a small thing; a GPS transmitter. He’d picked it up at one of those high tech electronic places for a couple of thousand and had it installed in one of Yumi’s cosmetics. So small... so tiny... so handy.
Shishio laughed. “Run little butterfly. Runaway and take me right to that fucking wolf’s den. Show me where he lives, so I can put an end to all my miseries... including your betrayal. Go back to the pack, Yumi. Go back to the dogs life... and die with your brothers.”
Setting the tracker on the bed next to him, he stood up and retrieved his gun from the bedside table. There was a silencer in his suitcase, and he screwed it on, his face bland, his eyes accusing. “You failed me, Howard.” He said to the unconscious man just outside of the bathroom. “You weren’t even at your post when they came. And you...” He looked across the room at his long-time companion, Ousi. “You didn’t even get the chance to draw your weapon, although I can see you tried. That is forgivable, Ousi, but only this once.” Callously he pointed the gun at Howard’s head and pulled the trigger three times. Blood spattered on his bare feet and jeans. It would take them awhile to identify Howard, unless his prints were on file somewhere.
Walking to the door, he pulled it open and spat on Eddy’s prostrate form, and without so much as a single derogatory remark, unloaded the rest of his clip into the door guard’s chest. Then he returned inside the room, packed his suitcase, threw a cup of ice water in Osui’s face, and left. It was quite obvious they had over stayed their welcome at the Blue Palace.
He’d never liked this dive anyway.
O.O
“Hullo?” Martin Scully sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. When he could focus, he saw the time on clock; it was eleven-thirty.
“Detective Scully?”
“Yes, who is this?” Behind him, Martin’s wife, Elizabeth mumbled something about late night calls and being a cops wife. He smiled and patted her on the hip.
“This is dispatch, sir. Sorry to bother you so late, but there’s been an incident.”
“Incident?” Suddenly Martin was fully alert. “What kind of incident?”
“We received a ‘Shots fired’ message from one of your detectives, claiming he was on stake-out, but we have no record of him being assigned to that duty. Do you have any information on this matter?”
‘Oh God... Danny...’ “Who was the detective?” His heart sank as he asked, knowing he already knew the answer.
“Detective Livingston, sir.”
“And what all did he say?”
“He requested back-up and an ambulance, sir. He said suspects were down...”
“Oh shit... did you send back-up?”
“We did... and the ambulance, sir, but we haven’t heard anything back as of yet. I am just trying to find out what he was doing out there and if he had authorization. Did you know he was out there, sir?”
“Yes, I knew.” Martin leaned over and rested his arms on his knees, rubbing his forehead with one hand. “But he didn’t have authorization. He was doing it on his own time.”
“Then I shouldn’t have sent back-up... technically.”
“Yes, you should have.” Martin growled. “Daniel is still a working member of our department. Even if he was off-duty he is still entitled to out back-up if he ends up in a situation. I want a full report of what happened out there as soon as you have it... no. Never mind. I’m getting dressed. I ‘ll go out there myself.”
“Ah... yes, sir.”
Martin hung up and buried his face in his hands. ‘Oh Daniel, old friend. What have you done?’ It took him a few minutes to dress and retrieve his gun, then he was kissing Elizabeth and telling her he’d call her later. Grabbing his coat and keys, he was out the door and into his car, the only thought on his mind was whether or not back-up made it in time before one of the best cops he ever knew made the biggest mistake of his career. Martin didn’t want to make a phone-call to Lynette Livingston. Not THAT phone-call.
He didn’t even stop for coffee.
TBC
Just for clarifications sake... in case anyone missed it... Daniel staked out the wrong motel.
Chapter Eighteen
Snatch and Grab
Ten-fifteen. That was the time on Daniel’s watch when he looked at it, the little florescent hands glowing in the dark of his car. He grumbled and adjusted his position in the seat, trying to find a comfortable place, but his backside still ached. He’d been sitting across the street from The Feathered Boa for nearly three hours now, and had yet to sign of either the scar-faced man or his girl-friend. The girl behind the front desk told him she saw them both leave around seven-thirty in his dirty, brown compact car, but had yet to see them come back.
So, he was on the stake-out. Alone.
The conversation with Marty came back to ghost through his mind, and he gritted his teeth at the thought that his superior even considered he might be on the take. It was the worst insult a cop with his years of service could endure, and it was one he never expected to be laid at his feet. It stung... he didn’t think things between him and Marty would ever be the same. Accusations like that can’t be taken back once they’re said. Daniel wondered how many other officers in the department thought the same thing Marty had. Growling low in his throat, he grabbed the coffee cup setting in his console and took a long drink. It was cold, but he really didn’t care. He’d had cold coffee before. There were worse things.
Absently he reached beneath his jacket and pulled his 9mm out of its shoulder holster. He popped the clip and checked the rounds, making sure it was full, then he put it back in, clicking it into place. Then he did something he never did.
He cocked the gun and put it back in the holster.
If he had to kill Makido to rescue the girl... he was alone. He needed to be ready. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw a car pull into the motel parking lot. Beneath the street lights it was a dirty, gray-brown compact with a dent in the front left fender. There were two people riding inside, and the one in the passenger seat appeared to be a woman.
Daniel pulled his night-vision binoculars out and watched the couple as they climbed out of the parked car. The man was tall and thin with shoulder length brown hair concealing most of his features. The woman was small, willowy with long dark hair hanging past her waist. She was skittish and nervous acting; looking around the parking lot and towards the office as if she could feel someone watching them. The man approached her and grabbed her roughly by the arm, yanking her around to face him. He said something to her and she nodded frantically, one hand braced on his chest. It was obvious she was afraid of him. He spoke again, grabbed her other arm and shook her hard, then tossed his hair out of his face and shoved her away.
At that moment, Daniel was gifted with a full feature view of the man and he zoomed in on his exposed face. The entire left cheek and part of his neck was covered with heavy scar tissue reminiscent of either road rash or burn. It was difficult to make a decisive judgement in the poor lighting. ‘Damn!’ Daniel lowered the binoculars and swore to himself. He was going to have to wait and see if something more concrete presented itself.
It was going to be a long night.
O.O
Aoshi and Kenshin slunk along the alley, melting into the darkness as if they were part of it. No sound followed their feet as they walked, no leaves rustled, no twigs snapped. They were shadows without form or context, and they moved on the wind, drifting like spirits of the dead, and the Wrath of the Black Hawke came with them.
Retribution was nigh, and even though he would never know they passed him by, Shishio Makido was about to make his first payment.
Worming their way around the backside of the motel, they slipped through naked shrubs and poorly tended trees, occasionally peering through the odd window until they found what they were looking for. Just as she said she would, Yumi left the back curtains open just a crack-enough for Hawke to see inside the room and count four people inside. Two men he didn’t know, Yumi, and Shishio.
One man was sitting shot-gun at the table next to the door, a 9mm strapped to his chest with cop-issue shoulder holster. He looked latino or asian; his black hair slicked back from a narrow face with dark eyes. He was drinking a beer and large number of empty bottles on the table proved everyone had been for awhile.
The other guy was also a stranger, but instead of a gun he was packing a six-foot ten something, muscle bound frame that looked like it belonged in a comic book. His long, dirty-blonde hair was hanging loose around his face in greasy strings that swung back and forth over his big nose while he moved around. His massive size made Kenshin look like a cockroach in comparison. At least it would be interesting if the two ever tangled.
Then there was Shishio, who looked for the world like he was passed out on the bed. He was barefoot, wearing jeans and a wife-beater. The burn scars along his chest, neck, and face were grossly apparent and Hawke pursed his lips. It was unusual that the kid let anyone see his scars at all, let alone show them off so blatantly like this. An uneasy feeling crept up his spine. Something felt bad about this, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Still...
“We need to wait for the boys to split up... you think?” He asked Kenshin, who was catching a peak through the window.
“Hmm, probably be the best idea. How do you want to go? Through the windows or the front door?”
“Guess we ought to see if anyone is at the front door, eh?”
“Guess so.”
Crouching low to the ground, they picked their way around the edge of the motel until they could peer around the outer corner into the parking lot. The car Yumi described to Aoshi was setting in one of the middle spaces. A dirty-brown Dodge Dart; two-door. Kenshin eased his way up to the car and looked into the windows. It was littered with garbage inside. Old fast-food wrappers, pop cans, shopping bags, and a few things he couldn’t quite figure out. All in all, it was a mess, but there wasn’t anyone inside. He waved Hawke over.
From behind the car, the two men looked across the lot toward the room. Number 5 had the drapes pulled shut and, sure enough, there was someone standing at the door.
“Figures.” Kenshin nodded toward the man who was just lighting up a cigarette. “Looks like him and blondie might be brothers.” He said, indicating the matching stringy mop of yellow hair hanging down the mans back. Hawke shook his head and motioned for Kenshin to move up along the car until they were peaking over the hood.
“Can you see what he’s packing from here?”
“Uhh... looks like an M16 to me. Geez, you’d think these guys knew something was up...” Kenshin froze mid sentence and then looked at his companion. “Do you think...”
“I don’t know, but I’ve had a bad feeling ever since I got a look at Shishio without his shirt on.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“That boy doesn’t get out of the shower without a shirt on... no one sees his scars-no one.” Hawke reached over his shoulder and pulled a short tubular object out of his special gear pack. “We need to get this party in motion, my friend, and get the hell outta here.”
“Works for me, man. You know how much I hate parties with people I don’t know.”
“Yeah...” With great care Hawke twisted, pulled, and silently slid the sections of the blow-gun apart until it reached its full length of just under five feet. “Got the darts?”
“Here...” Kenshin reached into his belt pack and retrieved a small tranquilizer dart, and handed it to Hawke. “Be careful. It doesn’t take much to pop these little babies.” Hawke nodded and slipped the little dart into the mouth piece of his gun. Then he eased the barrel over the hood of the car, aimed, and gave a short, sharp puff of air. The dart shot soundlessly out of the tube and a split instant later they watched as the guard at the door grabbed his arm. His voice was muffled by the distance as he cursed, grabbing at the dart, then he crumpled to the ground in a quiet heap of greasy hair and bad cloths.
“Hey,” Hawkei pursed his lips. “Fast little suckers.” Kenshin grinned and nodded.
“Told you.” He said, crouching in the gravel while Hawke disassembled his gun and put it away. “You decide yet if you want the windows or the front door?”
“Windows,” Hawke replied, scanning the parking lot for anymore activity. “We have some view of what’s going on inside there at least. Out here, we’re walking in completely blind and I don’t like this already... something’s wrong. Feel it yet?”
“Yeah,” Kenshin reached under his mask to scratch his nose. “The nose knows... let’s get it done.”
“In front or behind?”
“It’s your show...”
“Alright, but stay close. Got it?”
“On your ass.”
O.O
The tingling sensation in his numb buttocks caused Daniel to shift in the bucket seat of his car, a muffled curse on his breath as he moved into a new position, his thighs brushing against the steering wheel. It was close to eleven now and he was beginning to wonder if anything was going to happen tonight. So far, the parking lot was as dead as his brother’s love-life, which was saying a lot. Vince hadn’t been out on a date with anything resembling a woman in more than six years, and heaven only knew how old the condom in his wallet was.
As a rule, drug dealers were night owls. Everything went down in the dark, but nothing was going on here. There was some low-life standing outside the door of the room scar-face and his girl disappeared into, but other than that, not even the roaches were moving.
“Dammit,” he muttered, looking at his watch for the umteenth time. He’d give it until midnight and if nothing interesting went down, he’d call it a night and start over tomorrow. What else could he do? He wasn’t staying out here all night without back-up. Not unless he was planning on Lynette putting him in an early grave. A lone white-man parked in an unmarked car after twelve was just asking to get shaken down by one of the local gangs. He wasn’t willing to take that chance. He’d seen enough of what those little head-hunters were capable of when Richie was trolling with the Cryps... he didn’t need to be screwing around waiting to become one of their statistics.
He grimaced and gagged as he took a drink of his ice cold coffee. It never did taste the same after it sat a few hours, even if it was the expensive cappuccino. Once it got cold, it tasted just like the bitter cheap shit, but it still kept him awake better so he endured. It was better than nodding off and missing something. Reaching out through the dark of the cab, he fiddled with the controls of the radio and tried to find something obnoxious and irritating that would also help keep him awake and on his guard. An oldies hip-hop station that grated on his nerves was just the ticket.
Absented minded his fingers tapped the beat of an old Cindy Lauper song out on the edge of the door while he scanned the poorly lit road. There wasn’t a lot of traffic out tonight, which he found odd. Usually this side of town was swimming with junker cars and hot-rods full of drunk kids this time of night. Maybe he was getting out of touch with this end of the world. Since getting Richie out of the gangs a couple years back, he’d made it a point to try and stay out of this part of town as much as he could-at least at night. Maybe the action was getting hotter closer to the city center these days and the pimps and drugers were running their action there...
The flash of headlights turning a corner in front of him pulled his mind back on task, and he slumped down in the seat, watching as the car drove slowly down the street and then turned into the parking lot. Once it stopped, the man standing at the door approached it and starting talking to the people inside. Daniel watched the exchange carefully, looking for the telltale signs of money or packages changing hands, but saw nothing. Then the passenger door opened and a tall, slender man dressed in a black trench got out. From there things spun into slow motion as the man in black swung a double barreled shotgun out from under his coat and opened fire on door guard, the door, and the people who started to pour out of it. Blood and body parts spattered in all directions.
“Shots fired!” Daniel yelled into his police radio as he grabbed for his 9mm. “Shots fired at 21st and Bently Ave. Suspects down! I need back-up and an ambulance. Repeat-Shots fired! The Feathered Boa motel at 21st and Bently Ave.”
“Who is this?” Dispatch crackled over the reciever.
“Detective Daniel Livingston!” He yelled, opening the door. “I’m on stake-out at the Feathered Boa. Shots fired, dammit! Suspects down... send back-up!”
“I don’t have you assigned to back-up, Detective.” Silence met the dispatchers remark. “Detective Livingston? Detective, are you there? Detective?”
.
.
.
Daniel Livingston cocked his 9mm as he ran across the street. Four people were down and most likely dead, including the woman he feared was Yumi Komagata. As for Scar-face; he couldn’t see him anywhere. The man in black was inside the room now-the shotgun blasting like a cannon. ‘God, help me...’ He jumped the curb, ran to the woman, and knelt down. He knew she was dead before he touched her. Half of the back of her head was missing, the large blue eyes staring vacant and flat up into space. She’d been pretty once. The three men laying around her were dead too. The sound of raised voices coming from inside the room caught his attention and he stood up. Someone was still alive in there. It could be Scar-face... and then again...
Gripping his gun in standard attack/defense manner, Daniel approached the shattered door, praying he could catch the man in black by surprise and disarm him before he blew a hole a in his guts. There was always a chance that whatever went down inside had already done that, but then again... He wouldn’t know anything until he got there. He crept along the wall, listening to the angry voices, not really being able to make out what they were saying despite how close he was. The blood was pounding in his ears and the rush of adreneline in his system was making him dizzy. He’d never done anything like this without back-up. ‘Please, God... Lynette, Richie.... don’t let me die...’
He swung around the door frame, gun firmly in front of him, feet spread wide.
“Freeze, assholes!”
O.O
They stood outside the windows looking inside, gauging what they needed to do in order to get in and then what had to be done once they were there. When Blondie disappeared into the bathroom, Kenshin silently pulled a small, palm-sized box from his belt pack and removed several odd looking tools. With them he began to methodically cut the rim of one of the glass panes away from the metal casing. It took several minutes, but when he was finished, the glass eased out with barely a scrape, leaving the window open and without jagged, or sharp cutting edges. Their entry was hidden by the heavy floor-length curtains, and they slipped into the room undetected.
Easing out of the curtain barrier in the corner, both Kenshin and Hawke remained hidden in the dark shadow, surveying the room. Everyone was in the bedroom except for Blondie.
“High or low?” Kenshin asked, quiet as a deaths whisper.
“High.” Hawke caught his friends golden gaze and made motion for them to move on ‘one’. Kenshin nodded. Both men took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Hawke stood tall against the wall, his fists tight and ready for a fight. Kenshin crouched low, prepared to spring like a coiled snake at anything that crossed his path. As the breath dissipated, they moved forward like a piece of the inanimate come to life.
.
.
.
She saw it move, but didn’t believe it. It was like watching the wall turn into water. At first it was just there... the wall, and then it flexed and stretched out toward the room. Matter sifted and shifted and took on a new form right in front of her eyes, and if she wasn’t already so tired, she probably would have screamed or something else equally stupid. But, as it was, she was so fried and stressed, all she could do was sit and watch–her eyes huge, her jaw clenched as the back wall of the room literally separated from itself and started to grow into something else. Her eyes darted to the right where Ousi sat drinking beer and watching TV.
He was engrossed in some cop show as usual. She hated those horrible shows, but they kept him more entertained than just about anything else. He could watch them 24/7 and be perfectly content. She could never tell if he was laughing at the stupidity of the criminals or the jibes the cops made at them. It really didn’t matter, and at the moment, he was so glued to the tube he wasn’t even aware of her let alone anything else in the room. So, when the six foot ninja appeared out of no where to loom over him, he didn’t even have a chance to squeak an alarm to his sleeping boss or draw his gun before the sledge hammer fist slammed into the pressure point between his neck and shoulder.
Yumi watched in silent terror as Ousi slumped soundlessly in his chair. She turned a pale, mute face up to the tall figure, her mouth open in a wordless cry of frightened surprise, and she caught the glow of frosty, ice blue eyes over the top of the black mask.
‘Hawke?’
A sound behind him pulled him away from her, and she watched as he spun with an inhuman speed to confront the lumbering blonde as he plunged out of the bathroom, but at that moment the floor became as alive as the wall had been. Yumi covered her mouth as the gasp of a scream tried to claw it’s way free, while she watched a shadow fly upward and slam with a crushing force into the torso of the big man, legs wrapping around his neck, twisting hard to pull him to the floor. At the same moment, the tall ninja swept across the room to where Shishio lay sleeping, and smashed a fist into his face to make certain he remained that way.
A resounding ‘thud’ shuddered through the room as the smaller ninja brought the large man down, slamming his head into the hard into the floor. A low moan slithered through the quiet, then there was nothing. The small man rose to his feet and leaned down to check his victims pulse. A casual nod in the direction of the tall ninja stated the large man was still alive.
Yumi was confused.
“Wh-who...”
“Let’s go Yumi.”
“H-Hawke?” She was both relieved and afraid. “It is you?”
“Yes.” He reached up and pulled down the ninja mask to reveal his face. “I told you I was coming.” He held out a hand to her. “Now, let’s go.”
Her gaze shifted fearfully toward the bed where Shishio lay. She couldn’t take her eyes of him. If he ever found out what happened... if he knew what she’d done... “He’s going to kill me.” She said, not knowing she spoke her thoughts out loud.
“Not on my watch, girly.”
Glassy turquoise eyes shifted and looked into the face she knew so well. “You came for me,” she said in an absent voice. “You really came... after everything I did... you came anyway. Oh god....” Yumi began to cry, her arms wrapping around his neck. “I’m so sorry... I...”
“Hush, now.” He said, picking her up and carrying her to the window. “We’ll talk about all of this later. Let’s just get out of here. Himura?” Aoshi looked over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of the redhead checking pulses on his way out. “How’d we do?”
“No bodies... dammit.” His voice was full of mischief.
“Himura... I swear. I’m going to start to think you actually like to kill people.”
“Nah, just in the movies.” Kenshin’s good-natured chuckle drifted through the air as the two men backtracked to Aoshi’s car. They had gotten away with it so far. No complications. No bodies, and neither on of them with so much as a scratch.
“M-Mister Himura?” Yumi looked at the smaller man as he pulled the ninja mask off, revealing his long red tresses and now-violet eyes. “Is that you? You came too?”
“Sure thing, kiddo.” Kenshin smiled gently. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Why would you?”
“You’re one of Hawke’s kids, aren’t you?” He watched her nod as Hawke set her on her feet. “That makes you community property when it comes to being in trouble, and you definitely got yourself a passel of that, didn’t you?”
“Yes, sir.” Yumi hung her head and started fiddling with her fingers.
“You’re lucky Hawke is as forgiving as he is, little girl.” Kenshin’s voice turned hard. “He’s willing to do what he can to keep you out of prison, but you have to come up with your end of it... are you going to do that?”
“I...”
“States evidence, girl. You have to turn states evidence on your psycho boyfriend if you want to stay out of the gray-bar motel. That’s the only way... period. You willing to do that?”
“Y-yes.” She knew that was what it was going to come down to. Somehow when she’d made that last phone call, she knew. But, if Shishio was capable of killing her... it was a dog-eat-dog world and what was good for him was just as good for her. He’d called her his butter-fly... said he loved her... well, love hurts, doesn’t it?
Damn right, it does.
O.O
‘It’ll take more than one of your pussy punches to keep me down, wolf-boy...’
Shishio sat on the edge of the bed with the GPS tracker in one hand, the only rubbing a sore spot on his jaw where Hawke had punched him. There was a sly, slimy smile curling over his thin lips as he watched the little red blip on the screen maneuver through the maze of streets that was New York and Manhattan. Such a small thing; a GPS transmitter. He’d picked it up at one of those high tech electronic places for a couple of thousand and had it installed in one of Yumi’s cosmetics. So small... so tiny... so handy.
Shishio laughed. “Run little butterfly. Runaway and take me right to that fucking wolf’s den. Show me where he lives, so I can put an end to all my miseries... including your betrayal. Go back to the pack, Yumi. Go back to the dogs life... and die with your brothers.”
Setting the tracker on the bed next to him, he stood up and retrieved his gun from the bedside table. There was a silencer in his suitcase, and he screwed it on, his face bland, his eyes accusing. “You failed me, Howard.” He said to the unconscious man just outside of the bathroom. “You weren’t even at your post when they came. And you...” He looked across the room at his long-time companion, Ousi. “You didn’t even get the chance to draw your weapon, although I can see you tried. That is forgivable, Ousi, but only this once.” Callously he pointed the gun at Howard’s head and pulled the trigger three times. Blood spattered on his bare feet and jeans. It would take them awhile to identify Howard, unless his prints were on file somewhere.
Walking to the door, he pulled it open and spat on Eddy’s prostrate form, and without so much as a single derogatory remark, unloaded the rest of his clip into the door guard’s chest. Then he returned inside the room, packed his suitcase, threw a cup of ice water in Osui’s face, and left. It was quite obvious they had over stayed their welcome at the Blue Palace.
He’d never liked this dive anyway.
O.O
“Hullo?” Martin Scully sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. When he could focus, he saw the time on clock; it was eleven-thirty.
“Detective Scully?”
“Yes, who is this?” Behind him, Martin’s wife, Elizabeth mumbled something about late night calls and being a cops wife. He smiled and patted her on the hip.
“This is dispatch, sir. Sorry to bother you so late, but there’s been an incident.”
“Incident?” Suddenly Martin was fully alert. “What kind of incident?”
“We received a ‘Shots fired’ message from one of your detectives, claiming he was on stake-out, but we have no record of him being assigned to that duty. Do you have any information on this matter?”
‘Oh God... Danny...’ “Who was the detective?” His heart sank as he asked, knowing he already knew the answer.
“Detective Livingston, sir.”
“And what all did he say?”
“He requested back-up and an ambulance, sir. He said suspects were down...”
“Oh shit... did you send back-up?”
“We did... and the ambulance, sir, but we haven’t heard anything back as of yet. I am just trying to find out what he was doing out there and if he had authorization. Did you know he was out there, sir?”
“Yes, I knew.” Martin leaned over and rested his arms on his knees, rubbing his forehead with one hand. “But he didn’t have authorization. He was doing it on his own time.”
“Then I shouldn’t have sent back-up... technically.”
“Yes, you should have.” Martin growled. “Daniel is still a working member of our department. Even if he was off-duty he is still entitled to out back-up if he ends up in a situation. I want a full report of what happened out there as soon as you have it... no. Never mind. I’m getting dressed. I ‘ll go out there myself.”
“Ah... yes, sir.”
Martin hung up and buried his face in his hands. ‘Oh Daniel, old friend. What have you done?’ It took him a few minutes to dress and retrieve his gun, then he was kissing Elizabeth and telling her he’d call her later. Grabbing his coat and keys, he was out the door and into his car, the only thought on his mind was whether or not back-up made it in time before one of the best cops he ever knew made the biggest mistake of his career. Martin didn’t want to make a phone-call to Lynette Livingston. Not THAT phone-call.
He didn’t even stop for coffee.
TBC
Just for clarifications sake... in case anyone missed it... Daniel staked out the wrong motel.