Tenchi Muyo Fan Fiction ❯ Sanyasi ❯ Blue Eyes ( Chapter 3 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Disclaimer: Tenchi Muyo and its characters are property of AIC and
Pioneer. The proceeding story, though based on pre-existing characters, is
the property of the author and may not be reprinted without permission.
All original characters found herein are also the property of the author and
may not be used without permission. (Did that sound official? I hope so.)

Blue Eyes

Chapter 1: And Then There Were Two

As much as Iggy wanted to grab some shuteye before the meeting
with Bradley, he couldn't. As usual, talking about the death of his father
had reopened some old wounds. He lay on his bed, being forced to relive
the events of that day four years ago. He had stayed at the hotel with his
mother and older brother that afternoon while his father participated in the
opening ceremony of the new branch office. That evening they were to go
to dinner at a fancy restaurant to celebrate, and take a corporate flight back
to their home planet, Agravaine, the next day. His mother was making
him change into one of his tailored suits when she received a phone call
from the corporation with the news. Five minutes later, with all three of
them in tears, Iggy, Gabriel Jr., and Mrs. Gilbride were able to see it all on
the special news bulletin.
According to the will, immediate control of the company was
entrusted to the prominent stock-holding members of the board. The
majority holdings were officially divided equally between Iggy and
Gabriel Jr., with the intention that they would eventually assume control of
the company. Gabriel Jr., being eight years Iggy's senior, practically had
his foot in the front office door at the time anyway, so, shortly after the
funeral, he set about learning the business from top to bottom, fully
intending to take the reins. Because of seniority issues, Iggy's mother
thought it best to retain his shares of the company until he turned eighteen,
which was, even today, still four years away. Until Iggy's eighteenth
birthday, Gabriel Jr. was recognized as the sole heir of the company.
In truth, Iggy had no real interest in running the company; it was
pretty much assumed that Gabriel Jr. would wind up with that
responsibility, anyway. Of course, he did hold some interest in the
software programs and computers that the company was responsible for;
he became a successful hacker at the tender young age of six. For the most
part, however, he never felt the corporate world calling him. Still shaken
up by the death of his father and seeking purpose, Iggy was encouraged by
his mother to do volunteer work. She allowed him to volunteer at a
hospital when he was eleven years old. It was there that he became
fascinated with medicine. He would often be seen lurking the hallways
after his designated shift, following the doctors through their various
routines. On a very few occasions, he was actually allowed to view
surgeries from the observation room with the technicians. After several
months, he became more capable and reliable than most of the nursing
interns. His proficiency was a main factor in the decision to assign him to
a gunshot victim who insisted on remaining nameless.
The other nurses had often complained about the surly black-haired
man that showed up one afternoon, blood leaking down his arm from the
wound in his shoulder. Iggy received nothing but civility from the man,
which was puzzling to the staff and to Iggy himself. A few days before the
man was scheduled to be released, he revealed just why he levied his
attention on the young man.
"Iggy, I have something I need to ask you," he announced as he
straightened up in his bed.
"Sure thing, buddy," Iggy replied. He had taken to calling him
"buddy" in replacement of his unknown name. "What's up?"
"We're both after the same people," he stated flatly.
"What do you mean by that?" Iggy asked.
"I can tell by your nametag," he said. "You're Gabriel Gilbride's
kid, aren't you? Yeah, I can see the family resemblance, all right. I
remember the day that your dad died. You might be interested to know
that I know who knocked him off."
Iggy snapped to attention. "What do you know?" he demanded.
"Tell me!"
The man smiled. "Like I said, we're after the same people. All
you need to know right now is that I can help you get to these people. You
want that, don't you? After what they did to you..."
Iggy's face was wrought with disbelief. "Just who the hell are
you?"
"After I'm out of here, I'm going after them," he went on. "I'm
impressed with how you handle yourself, kid. I think we can help each
other. If you help me, I can guarantee that we can bring down those
bastards. So, what do you say? Up for a road trip?"
Iggy was speechless. It would be insane for him to up and walk
out on his family in favor of a gunshot patient he barely knew. Still,
something had told him that he was able to trust this enigmatic black-
haired man. His unexplainable faith in the man and his desire for revenge
made what would have been an easy refusal into a thought-provoking
situation.
"Think about it for a little while," the man bade him. "I won't be
out for two days. Give me your decision then."
For those two days, Iggy thought about what to do. Ultimately, he
had to ask himself if he would ever get such an opportunity again. The
police had no suspects or leads at all, and the case was quickly fading from
prominence. Still, if this man claimed that he knew something about the
murder, then why not go to the police with the information? There was
obviously some reason, and Iggy had a burning desire to find out what it
was. He decided not to tell his family about his decision.
On release day, the man refused to sign any forms at all, treating
the hospital staff with his usual disrespectful and icy manner. The staffers
were more than happy to oblige, wanting nothing more than to see him
gone without a trace. Iggy was there to greet him as he made his way to
the door.
"So, what'll it be?" the man asked.
"I guess I'm in," Iggy said.
The man smiled as they walked through the glass doors. "Alright,
then. We'll watch each other's backs from this day forward. I have a
feeling that this is going to work out very well." He put a cigarette
between his lips and lit it, taking a very long inhale in the process. "I've
been dying for one of these for days. You guys have really got to get a
smoking section in there."
"You know something?" Iggy asked. "I just realized that I have no
idea what your name is."
The man took another hit of his cigarette. "You can call me
Mitch," he said.

"You awake?" Sanyasi asked from the doorway.
Iggy snapped out of his reminiscing. "Yeah," he said lazily.
"We're there," he announced.
"You made the landing okay?" Iggy asked. "Even with the ship in
tow?"
"It was tricky, but yeah," he replied. "Someone from the tower
coached me through it. Go tell those women we'll be gone for a while,
and meet me at the dock."
"Haven't you told them what's going on?" Iggy asked.
"I'd rather keep my contact with them to a minimum," Sanyasi said
as he lit a cigarette. "I need all the pills I can spare."
Iggy sighed. "Fine, I'll go and tell them."
"Remember, don't call me Mitch around Bradley," Sanyasi
reminded.
"Oh, yeah, I remember," Iggy said as he passed by him. His sharp
footsteps echoed down the corridor as he made his way down the metal
hallway. As he approached the enclosures of the two inmates, he felt
himself tighten up as Mihoshi regarded him with doe-like eyes from
behind the bars.
"We're going on a little side trip," Iggy told them, shifting his eyes
between the two, trying to make himself look as authoritative as possible.
"Shouldn't take more than a few hours. I trust you'll be okay until we
return."
"Hmph! Not much we can do when we're locked up, now is
there?" Kiyone asked caustically.
"Is anything wrong?" Mihoshi asked, wringing her hands.
"Just going to visit an old friend," Iggy replied, "and to make some
preparations."
"Well, have a nice trip," Kiyone said icily. "Don't be offended if
we're not here when you get back."
"Oh, you'll be here," Iggy said with a wide smile. "Even if you
find a way to get out of those cells, most of the items on board this ship
have some kind of pass code. You won't be able to start the engines or
open a lot of the doors. Then again, you're a GP, so you knew that
already."
"Yeah, I do," Kiyone said. "And I also know how to override
those codes."
"Wrong," Iggy said flatly. "You know how to override the GP
codes. All the codes we have are unique to the ship. So, unless you
manage to shut down the entire security system--which itself is
passworded--there's not much you can do. So, just relax until we get
back, okay?" Before he could receive another snide response from
Kiyone, he turned on his heels and walked briskly away.
Kiyone scowled. "What an asshole," she said after Iggy turned the
corner.
"Well, maybe he'd be nicer if you weren't so rude," Mihoshi
suggested.
"Hey!" Kiyone shouted. "Who's side are you on, anyway?!"

Chapter 2: Contacts

After making planetfall, Sanyasi paid for the docking fee and
hailed a taxi to take him and Iggy to Bradley's shop. Bradley had a
mysterious past. It was rumored that he spent time in the military, which
is where he developed his connections, but no real concrete facts were
known about who he was or where he came from. In fact, Sanyasi still
wasn't sure if Bradley was his first or last name. In the long run it made
no difference; all Sanyasi needed to know was that Bradley could get him
what he wanted. Luckily, Bradley kept his business close to the space
port, hoping to pick up the odd-jobs that the port mechanics were too busy
to handle. Mainly, however, he made his living with much more shady
dealings. This was the purpose of Sanyasi's visit on this particular day; he
needed to obtain the proper materials for what he felt to be the impending
final conflict with the Zaibatsu. After the short cab ride, Iggy knocked on
the metal door of the shop.
"Why haven't you told Bradley your name?" Iggy asked while they
waited for an answer. "Don't you trust him?"
"I know him enough to know that he wouldn't stick his neck out
for me," Sanyasi replied as he touched his lighter to another cigarette.
"Besides, I think that the Zaibatsu still comes to him on occasion. It
wouldn't do if he knew who I really was."
Iggy knocked again. "I wish you'd have just told him to call you
Sanyasi, instead of that other stupid name."
"It was the first thing that came to mind," Sanyasi said defensively.
The door swung open suddenly, revealing a tall, lanky man with a deeply
lined face and very gray hair.
"Back already?" he asked, skipping pleasantries as per usual. "I
just saw you last month, Spike."
Sanyasi grinned feebly. "Well, things have kind of taken a turn
recently and we need to make some arrangements." He still wasn't used to
being called Spike. The only other time he had heard that name used was
in reference to a bull terrier.
"Alright, come on in," Bradley said as they began to stroll into his
shop. As usual, every corner of the warehouse-like structure was cluttered
with various parts for various vehicles, most of which were rusted well
beyond use. What used to be a proud space-faring vessel lay half
disassembled against a wall, its frame and internal wiring exposed
unattractively. Amazing how one would be led to believe that Bradley
was a capable mechanic. Instead of an office where repair work took
place, the premises gave the impression of a graveyard where vehicles
came to die.
The workshop was not what Sanyasi was interested in, however.
Past the scrap was a rear room that Bradley kept locked at all times, or at
least until a savvy customer made himself apparent. Sanyasi had learned
about Bradley's side operation through the Zaibatsu, and decided to use
him as his chief source of armaments because of his confidentiality.
Bradley's key ring jingled as he took it from his pocket to open the door.
The iron hinges creaked as Sanyasi and Iggy peered inside.
Bradley's "private collection" never failed to instill a sense of awe
into them. The shear number and variety of weapons was astounding,
especially to Iggy, who had never handled anything larger than a pistol.
Representative weapons from every conceivable military and police
division were present within the armory. The sight was so breathtaking
that Sanyasi found it difficult to speak.
"Well, you gonna buy, or should I just snap a photo for you?"
Bradley asked curtly, breaking the silence.
"Huh? Oh! Er, yeah, we'll buy some stuff," Sanyasi said. "I have
a feeling a lot of firepower is in order."
"I assume you'll be wanting your usual ammunition," Bradley
more said than asked.
Sanyasi reached into an inner pocket in his coat and pulled out a
handful of clips, most of which were empty. "Yeah, I'll be needing some
bullets for my Duquettes. Also some nine millimeter cartridges and some
shotgun shells."
Bradley shook his head. "I still can't believe a punk kid like you
got his hands on Duquettes," he said. "Who'd you have to kill to get
them?"
"I used to have a lot of connections," Sanyasi said. He reached
behind him and unholstered one of his pistols. He popped the clip out and
handed the gun to Bradley, who proceeded to aim at various things around
the office. He smiled as he handed the silver-plated gun back to its owner.
"Damn fine gun. I hope you realize what you've got there, Spike.
Boy, if I had a pair of guns like that, I'd never get rid of them. I'd never
even use them! I'd just sit and stare at them all day."
"Where's the fun in that?" Sanyasi joked as he put the pistol back
in its holster.
Sanyasi's pistols were custom made by a man named Francois
Duquette, regarded by many to be the premier pistol maker in the galaxy.
His creations were so highly sought after, there was more than a ten year
waiting list for a pistol. All of his guns were hand-crafted, and designed to
the purchaser's specifications. What made his guns so unique was that the
barrels contained a much tighter rifling pattern--a design he patented--
which caused a greater rotation of the bullet, resulting in much higher
accuracy. So accurate that his guns were officially banned from
competition shooting, because even a novice could group six shots inside a
quarter at fifty yards with open sights. However, the design of the gun
proved very inefficient for longer range shooting. The tighter rifling
meant that the speed of the bullet was greatly reduced, which in turn
decreased its range. Sanyasi was able to compensate for the diminished
range by enlarging the chamber to be able to fire larger cartridges which
contained a greater powder charge. After a few shots with the custom
cartridge, Sanyasi had realized that the huge amount of gunpowder needed
would produce too much recoil. So, Sanyasi again had the gun retrofitted,
this time with a vented chamber to even out the expulsion of air. The final
result was a gun that could shoot a bullet with the speed, stopping power
and accuracy of a high-powered rifle. His sidearms were one of the very
few benefits that he felt he gained from the Zaibatsu.
Bradley heaped about twelve boxes of various ammunition
cartridges onto a table. "Will that be everything?" he asked.
"I have a feeling we'll need more," Sanyasi said. "What do you
have in the way of assault weapons?"
Bradley grinned. "I've been waiting for an opportunity to show off
my new baby," he said. He opened a metal locker and pulled out a metal
object that was almost as big as Iggy. Bradley laid it proudly on the table.
"This is the BSA-32X minigun. Originally a military project, it was
abandoned in favor of the research and development of a plasma rifle.
This is one of the few prototypes that was salvaged. As you can see it has
six rotary barrels to evenly distribute heat. The casing is made of a
lightweight titanium alloy, which means that it weighs in at an anorexic
twenty five pounds. It has a cyclic rate of seven hundred rounds per
minute, and is CO2 cooled so you can fire it for an hour straight without
overheating it. During testing, over fifty thousand rounds passed through
it, and the damn thing barely even smoked. The internal ejector
mechanism and the vented barrels help to eliminate excess noise, and it
kicks like a hair-dryer. So, are you impressed yet?"
Sanyasi stared vacantly at the massive gun. "I think I'm in love,"
he said.
"That's what I said," Bradley grinned. "It cost me a pretty penny,
though, so you'll have to be generous if you want it."
Sanyasi stared down at his partner. "Iggy, how are we on
finances?"
Iggy blinked at the gun a few times more, then turned to Sanyasi
with a wide smile on his face. He gave him a thumbs-up.
"We'll take it!" Sanyasi said enthusiastically. "I think we can find
her a good home."
"One question," Iggy said. "I've never heard the military make
reference to that type of model before. What does 'BSA' stand for?"
"It stands for 'Blow Shit Away,'" Bradley said.
"Works for me!" Sanyasi said. "How much you want?"
"I'll need two million jurai for this one, Spike," Bradley said.
"And, because you're one of my most regular customers, I'll throw in the
ammunition and CO2 coolant for free. Can't argue with that deal, now
can you?"
"You're preaching to the converted," Sanyasi said. "I'll transfer
the funds to you from my accounts."
"Great. Let's take care of that now." Bradley and Sanyasi used the
office computer to perform the necessary transactions. With the deal
closed, the pair shook hands.
"Get the items delivered to the space port pronto," Sanyasi said.
"Unfortunately, we can't stay long."
"No problem," Bradley responded. "I'll have them there in a
couple of hours."
"Fantastic. I need to see someone in town. Iggy, I want you to go
back to the space port and take care of what we talked about earlier on the
Yagami. That'll be one less liability we need to worry about."
"I'll get on that right away," Iggy said with a salute.
"And no flirting with the girls!" Sanyasi yelled.
Iggy looked at him sarcastically. "Jeez, take all the fun out of life.
Why don't you just cut my balls off, for Christ's sake!"
"If that's what it takes..." Sanyasi trailed off. "You'd better start
right back. We can't stay in one place for long."
"Gotcha," Iggy said. They each hailed a separate cab; Iggy bound
for the space port, while Sanyasi made a trip into town to address his
present medical condition.

Dr. Hirano was surprised to see the black-haired man back at his
office. It had been nearly a year since he was there last. The doctor was
certain that he had finally wised up and realized that his medication was
bogus or that his condition was purely psychosomatic. But, he was glad to
see him at any rate; it meant a cool thousand jurai for him.
"So, how have you been holding up?" Dr. Hirano asked. "Has
there been any change in your condition since we last met?"
"Unfortunately not," Sanyasi said. "I still get attacks. They don't
seem to happen spontaneously anymore, but every time I see a girl with
blue eyes..."
"Frankly, I can't put my finger on it," Dr. Hirano said. "This
reaction makes little sense to me. I've heard of chemotherapy patients
becoming violently ill whenever they see nurses from the hospitals they
were in. Maybe this is something similar."
"Could be," Sanyasi said blandly.
"I really wish you would see someone else about this," Dr. Hirano
said. "Did you talk to that psychiatrist I told you about?"
"Not a chance," Sanyasi said harshly. "I don't need that kind of
anchor right now."
"Well," the doctor sighed, "I suppose I can't make you go. On the
plus side, your medication seems to be working well, and there doesn't
appear to be anything physically wrong with you. I suppose that, as long
as there are no drastic changes, you'll be fine."
"You let me worry about that," Sanyasi said. "Just get me my pills
and I'll be on my way."
Sanyasi paid for the medication and the appointment fee and hailed
a taxi to return to the space port. during the ride back, he smiled as he
clutched his bottle of relief in his hand. Unbeknownst to him, what he
thought was the stuff of his salvation from his illness was nothing more
than a diluted mixture of codeine, a pain-killer, and zolpidem, a mildly
addictive sedative. He could have achieved the same medical results from
aspirin and a large turkey dinner. However, medicine was not his area of
expertise. Iggy would have recognized the pills as essentially useless, but
the bottle the pills came in was unmarked, giving no clue as to their true
nature. Even though the pills did little for Sanyasi physically, they did
give him peace of mind. As long as Sanyasi truly believed that the pills
worked, nothing else mattered. With a renewed sense of security, he went
back on board the ship.
He found Iggy loading some boxes into the cargo area. "Bradley
dropped everything off about five minutes ago," Iggy announced. "I've
got just about all of it loaded."
"Good job," Sanyasi said as he lit a cigarette. "Did you take care
of the Yagami?"
"I sure did. I removed the tracing mechanism and passworded the
central processor. Without the right code, that ship is just dead weight."
"Perfect," Sanyasi said as he exhaled a cloud of blue-gray smoke.
"We'll ditch the tracer once we escape the planet's gravity, and then we'll
be all set."
"Very nice," Iggy beamed. "Then maybe I can get to spend some
quality time with Mihoshi."
"Don't you think she's a bit old for you, there, Don Juan?" Sanyasi
asked jokingly. "Not to mention completely out of your league?"
"If you set your mind to it," Iggy said, "you can do anything. Or
anyone, in this case."
"You're sick," Sanyasi said plainly. "You need help."
"I need a date with Mihoshi," Iggy countered.
"You need to realize that women are nothing but trouble," Sanyasi
said. "You might as well tie yourself to an anvil and jump off a bridge."
"Sounds like sour grapes to me, Mitch," Iggy said. "I think a good
woman may be just what you need. Try your luck with Kiyone. Yeah,
she's a little bitchy, but man, what a body!"
"I've been down that road once before, and that's quite enough for
me, thank you!" Sanyasi said, a hint of anger and frustration in his raised
voice. "You can do whatever the hell you want. As for me, I'm not
touching them with a ten foot pole. I don't need that kind of aggravation."
"Suit yourself," said Iggy with a shrug as he walked away. "I guess
that leaves more for me."
Sanyasi only shook his head as he snuffed out his cigarette and lit
another. No matter what, he had promised himself that he would never let
anyone get that close to him again. Women were the death of him once,
and he wouldn't let it happen twice.

Chapter 3: A Dark Place

Sanyasi took a pair of pills, intending to sit down and explain some
things to the girls. Though he felt his medication would provide him
adequate protection, he decided to put on his sunglasses anyway. The
polarized blue-blockers helped, in that the vivid blue of any eye would
appear to be a light shade of purple. Thusly prepared, he approached the
women.
Mihoshi regarded him with curious eyes, while Kiyone sneered and
bit her piercing orbits into him. "So, you've come out of hiding," Kiyone
said. "I hope you didn't hurt yourself when you climbed out from
underneath that rock."
Sanyasi did not even seem to hear her. He reached into his pocket
and pulled out a key. To Kiyone's great surprise, he proceeded to unlock
their enclosures and open both sets of bars. "You can come on out of there
if you want," he said.
"You're letting us go?" Mihoshi asked excitedly. "Oh, thank you,
sir! That's very generous of you!"
"Just like that?" Kiyone asked, squinting at her captor. "I'm not
buying it. What are you really up to?"
"I figured that you must be getting awfully cramped in those cells,"
Sanyasi said as he casually reached into his pocket and pulled out a
cigarette. "Since everything is pretty much secure here now, I'll just let
you have free run of the ship."
"What do you mean, 'secure?'" asked Kiyone, raising an eyebrow.
"I mean that there's absolutely no way that you can get off this
ship," Sanyasi responded. "All the weapons on board have been locked
up, and your ship has been essentially immobilized. Nothing you can
really do."
"You just keep on thinking that," Kiyone said. "We'll be out of
here before you can even blink."
Sanyasi shook his head. "And we were just getting to know each
other, too."
Kiyone grabbed him forcefully by the collar of his shirt. "Listen
here, you smug son of a bitch! No more games! You're going to tell me
everything I want to know, and you'll come with me back to headquarters,
got it? Cooperate, and maybe the jury will decide not to put a bullet in
your head!"
Sanyasi grabbed Kiyone's wrist and removed it from the collar of
his shirt. He squeezed it a little harder than he needed to. "If anyone's
going to put a bullet in my head," he growled, "it won't be no fucking
jury! Now listen carefully, because I won't repeat myself. As long as
you're with me, you're safe. If I let you go, the Zaibatsu would be all over
you like flies on shit. You wouldn't last a day."
"What do you care?" Kiyone shot back icily. "I saw how much
you value human life back at that bar."
Sanyasi suddenly released Kiyone's wrist and swung his clenched
hand forcefully into the metal wall. His fist was cradled in the dent he
created in it. "Don't you dare judge me," he hissed through clenched
teeth. "You have no idea who you're dealing with!"
"I know all I need to know," Kiyone replied evenly. "You're a
kidnapper and a murderer, and you deserve to rot in prison for the rest of
your life."
Sanyasi clenched his teeth so hard that he felt they might shatter.
His hand trembled violently as he tried with all his might to withhold his
anger. He glared right at Kiyone's sour face, which was reflected back to
her in the lenses of Sanyasi's sunglasses. He finally lost his composure
and shouted, "If you had red hair, I would have snapped your neck the first
time I saw you!" He wheeled around sharply and marched off down the
darkness of the hallway.
Mihoshi scratched her head. "What did he mean by that?" she
asked.
A few moments later, Iggy approached the two women from the
direction Sanyasi had stormed off in, stopping twice to peer over his
shoulder. "Did something happen?" he asked.
"Your boss has a real attitude problem," Kiyone reported.
"Hopefully you'll be a bit more cooperative. The judge will look
favorably upon you if you testify against him."
Iggy appeared outraged. "Boy, you've got some nerve! No way
I'd go back on him. And besides, he's not my boss; we're partners. I
wanted to come with him, because I believe in what he's doing."
"You mean mowing down people in bars and kidnapping police
officers?" Kiyone asked.
Iggy sighed. "You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time,"
he said. "I'm really sorry you had to get mixed up in all this, but we had
no other choice. If we had let you go, then either you would have sent the
GP after us, or the Zaibatsu would have got you."
"What is this Zaibatsu, anyway?" Mihoshi asked. "Why are they
so important?"
"Sanyasi is trying to take down the head of the organization," Iggy
explained. "He has some kind of history with the guy. He never told me
the whole story. He also promised me that he would get the guy that killed
my father."
"And if he does," Kiyone interrupted, "then you leave him behind,
right?"
"You don't understand anything," Iggy said plainly. "I know he
may seem like some lawless space cowboy to you, but he's got a sense of
justice. Okay, so maybe his reasons for going after these people are
personal, but don't you think it means something that he's doing it at all?
It would have been easy for him to fade into the shadows, but he stood up
and fought. He believes in something."
"Yeah, senseless violence," Kiyone said.
"Is it senseless that he protected you two in the bar?" Iggy asked.
"I hardly think shooting someone in the shoulder counts as
protecting them," Kiyone replied.
"You're both alive," Iggy said. "When Sanyasi has guns, he
decides who lives or dies. It's that simple."
"Judge, jury, and executioner," said Kiyone. "Vigilante scumbag."
Iggy pursed his lips and looked down at the floor. "Think
whatever you want," he said with a wave of his hand as he began to walk
away. "But, no matter what, I won't leave him behind, especially not for
you."
"Um, Iggy," Mihoshi said suddenly. "I need to ask you, um...
could you tell me where... I need to, um..."
Iggy could clearly see what was on her mind. She was bent over
slightly and squeezed her legs tightly together. "The bathroom is down the
hall, first door after you turn left," he said.
"Thank you!" she shouted as she bounded past him in a race
against the call of nature.
Iggy glared at Kiyone a final time. "Let me give you a word of
advice. Sanyasi spared your life for a good reason. Don't give him a
reason to change his mind." Kiyone was then left to stand alone in the
middle of the hallway, wondering just what she and Mihoshi had been
dragged into.

Sanyasi laid on his bed seething. It had been a long time since
anyone had succeeded in working him up the way Kiyone had. He
scowled, realizing that women with blue eyes tended to have that effect on
him. "Who does that bitch think she is?" He snarled aloud. "She thinks
that I don't care about life. What was the first thing she did when Mihoshi
went down? Did she check to see if she was alright? No; the first words
out of her mouth were, 'You're under arrest.' If she wasn't so married to
her job, she might have noticed that her partner was fucking bleeding!
Selfish waste of a life!" He slammed his fist down hard on the side table
next to his bed. The ashtray bounced up and fell over, crashing to pieces
on the floor.
"Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit!"
As he sat up and gazed down at the pieces of the ashtray, he
rethought his position. How was Kiyone's reaction any different from his?
Someone had wronged her by shooting her partner, and she wanted
revenge. In the end, that was all it boiled down to. Sanyasi wasn't
crusading against the Zaibatsu because he wanted to rid the galaxy of its
evil tyranny; he wanted revenge. And it appeared that he was itching to
share that revenge with others. He manipulated Iggy to make him want the
same thing, disregarding the fact that he had a family and a future.
Sanyasi selfishly insisted on getting his own way. The more things had
changed, the more they had stayed the same.
He took a few deep breaths and realized that he wasn't mad at
Kiyone, but mad at himself. He was mad at what he had done in the past.
He was mad about what he was doing in the present. Most of all, he was
mad that he had allowed things to get so out of hand in the first place. He
wanted desperately to be out of it all; to just walk away. But he had
nothing to walk away to. All he had was revenge and death. Now it was
just a matter of which one would come first.
A movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He
looked to see Fred ambling his way into his room. Fred jumped up on the
bed and looked at Sanyasi with expectant eyes. Sanyasi had no choice but
to pet him. "You always show up when I'm upset," he said softly to the
cat. "You'd better stop that, or you'll fool me into thinking that you
actually give a shit about me." Fred laid down and began thumping his tail
against the thin mattress.
"It's a good thing I don't expect anything out of you," he went on.
"Otherwise I would have made you do something you didn't want to do.
And I know that can be frustrating. Look where it got me. I did exactly
what I was told to do, when I was told to do it. And here I am, floating
aimlessly through space, talking to a cat. Another memorable chapter in
the thrilling story that is Mitchell Grace. Oh, well. At least things can't
get much worse, huh? When you've got nothing to lose, you've got
nowhere to go but up." Sanyasi again stroked Fred on the top of the head.
The cat had his eyes closed and purred softly. "Then again, what do my
problems matter to you? As long as I've got a hand to feed you, you
probably couldn't care less. Can't say I blame you. If I wasn't me, I
probably wouldn't care much about me, either."
As he drifted off to sleep, Sanyasi began to think about the blue
eyes again, and how it had all started to unravel for him...

"Checkmate," said Rook, staring across the table of the sidewalk
cafe with the familiar smug, chiding grin he always adapted when he
claimed another hapless victim on the chessboard.
Merchant stared blankly at the board, grappling with the frustration
of losing but not knowing just how. "Again?" he blurted. "Son of a
bitch!"
"Don't feel so bad," Rook consoled as he leaned back in his seat.
"You're really the only one worth playing around here. Did Ego tell you
that I beat him in eight moves last week?"
"Boy, he had to have been pissed," Merchant said.
"Heartbroken I think is a better word to use," Rook replied with a
snicker. "So, do you fancy another game?"
Merchant looked past Rook to see a man in a gray long coat
striding up to them. "Speak of the devil," he whispered. Rook turned in
his seat and saw Ego standing above him.
"Back for more, huh?" he asked with a sly grin.
Ego didn't seem to notice the question. He stared right into
Merchant's eyes with a deadly serious look on his face. "Merchant, I need
to talk with you about a private matter," he said in a low voice.
Merchant shifted a little in his seat. Ego was his closest personal
acquaintance among all of his peers in the Zaibatsu. Contrary to protocol,
Ego had an irrepressible personality and sense of humor, and was
generally lots of fun to be around, both on the job and recreationally.
Often, Merchant, Ego, and Annie could be found at any of the number of
bars in the city, content to sit and drink and shoot the breeze. The dour
look on his face was very unbecoming, and slightly disconcerting.
Whatever had him worked up must have been major. He stood up slowly.
"I'll have to take a rain-check on our rematch, Rook," he said.
"Of course," Rook said as he began replacing the marble chess
pieces in their felt-lined lacquer box. Without another word, Ego
motioned for Merchant to follow him. The pair walked down the crowded
sidewalk, Ego's head cast down to the ground, and Merchant wondering
what had come over his friend.
"Mako is dead," Ego said suddenly.
Merchant gaped in disbelief. Mako was the head of the
organization. How could he have been killed without his knowledge?
"What?" he asked. "When?"
"I just found out myself," Ego said, his voice low and crackling
"This morning, they found him and his whole family shot."
"Why wasn't I told?" Merchant asked.
Ego sighed as he took a few more steps. "Mako wasn't the only
one. All of his lieutenants have turned up dead."
"This is insane," Merchant declared. "Who did all this? Have any
of the other syndicates claimed responsibility."
"No," Ego revealed, "and that's what worries me. Rumor has it
that it was an inside job."
"Someone's trying to orchestrate a coup?" Merchant asked.
"Not someone," Ego said, running a hand through his short blonde
hair. "Messiah."
Merchant's eyes grew wide, as he realized too late what he should
have seen from the beginning. For a long time Messiah had spoken out
against the current leadership of the Zaibatsu, claiming that its traditional
manner of thinking was outdated and left the organization vulnerable to a
hostile takeover. He had heard rumors of a large following of high-
ranking operatives lending their support to him due to bribes, threats, and
other such means. However, he had dismissed these rumors as just that.
In hindsight, he realized that nothing could be put past Messiah.
"Messiah is eliminating everyone that has strong ties to the old
guard," Ego went on. "As Mako's protege, I think you might be next on
the hit list."
"Why are you telling me this?" Merchant questioned sharply. "If
word gets out that you told all this to me--"
"Listen, you need to get out of here," Ego interrupted him. "Get
Annie and get as far away from here as possible. I'll meet up with you
when I can."
"You will both rendezvous in hell," a voice from behind them said.
Ego and Merchant whipped around to see Rook standing at the
mouth of the alleyway they had entered, holding a gun at both of them.
"You..." Ego said. "You were in on this!"
"Almost from the beginning," he replied. "Messiah warned me
that you might betray us, so he told me to kill you both if you did."
"What's going on here?" Merchant asked hotly. "Rook, what has
Messiah promised you?"
"Oh, the usual," he said with a grin. "Money, power, women, and
all that. Frankly, I rather liked the idea."
"You're a fool, Rook," Ego hissed. "If he's depraved enough to
want Merchant dead, think of what he'll do to you. What use will he have
for you once he's gained control? Tell me!"
"He'll have plenty of use for me," Rook replied. "After all, as you
have demonstrated, good help is hard to find."
Quick as a flash, Ego tackled Merchant and took both of them
behind the cover of a nearby dumpster. Rook began firing, but could not
hit the two moving targets. Once Ego drew his pistol and began shooting,
Rook was forced to retreat behind a corner momentarily. As Ego loaded
another clip, he said, "Mitch, get out of here."
"What about you?" Merchant asked.
"If you're dead, then no one will be able to stand in Messiah's
way," Ego explained. "If you're alive, he can't officially be recognized as
the new leader. That's why you need to take Annie and get as far way
from here as you can. This is bigger than I am."
"I'm not leaving you here, Ego!" Merchant said firmly. "I can't do
that to you!"
Rook began firing from around the corner. Ego stood up from his
crouch and returned the volley of bullets. "You've got no choice, Mitch.
Now, go!" He gave Merchant a stiff shove towards the other side of the
alley before he focused his attention on his attacker. "I'll cover you. Run!
Don't look back!"
Too confused to argue, Merchant ran for relative safety away from
the alley. He could hear the gunfire fading away as he ran. Abruptly, it
stopped. Not daring to think about what that could mean, Merchant
continued to run.
He stuck to large crowds as he debated his next move. He couldn't
go home; it would undoubtedly be crawling with operatives allied with
Messiah. In fact, all the places that he had once considered safe havens
were all connected back to the Zaibatsu somehow. Wherever the Zaibatsu
was, he was no longer safe, and since the Zaibatsu was everywhere, he was
left with little options. Ego was right; he would have to get as far away as
possible. First, however, he would have to hide himself. He made a quick
stop at a drug store and a clothing boutique before he decided to tell Annie
what was going on.
Annie was Merchant's girlfriend, whom he had been seeing for
half a year. They met by chance one afternoon when Merchant
accidentally tripped her and caused her groceries to be distributed on the
sidewalk. He invited her to dinner mostly as an act of apology, but it
evolved into so much more. Six months later, he was seriously
contemplating the possibility that he had finally found the right girl. His
troubled mind was eased somewhat when he thought of her vibrant red
hair and deep blue eyes.
Just before dusk he reached her apartment. He knocked sharply on
the door, which Annie cracked open. She was alarmed by the man she
saw standing on the other side. "Mitch, is that you?" she asked. "Your
hair... Why did you--"
"Please let me in," Merchant said. Annie complied and Merchant
swept past her quickly, instructing Annie to lock the door behind him. She
did as she was told, and she and Merchant sat down next to one another on
the couch.
"Mitch, what's going on?" she asked concernedly. "What's
wrong?"
"I really can't explain right now," Merchant said. He had never
told Annie that he was a member of the Zaibatsu in order to keep her safe.
"All that I can say is that we're not safe here. I'm afraid that I might have
gotten you involved in something, and I need to get you out of here
quickly."
"What?" Annie asked, her face fraught with confusion. "What do
you mean?"
"Annie, please," Merchant said. He grasped Annie's hand between
his own. "I really can't tell you what's going on. It's not safe. Just please
trust me and come with me. I promise everything is going to be okay."
He pulled Annie close and hugged her tightly. "I won't let anything
happen to you."
Suddenly, the door of one of the back rooms exploded open,
revealing two men in gray long coats with guns, who quickly pointed them
at Merchant. He hurriedly shifted himself in front of Annie on the couch.
"Don't you dare touch her, you fucks!" he bellowed. He reflexively
reached for the pistols in his rear holsters, but a warning shot by his ear
from one of the men halted him. He was forced to lay his hands at his
side. "Let her be. She has nothing to do with this."
Annie stood up and approached the two men, raising a yelp of
protest from Merchant. To his horror, however, she stood beside them and
drew a gun of her own. "I have more to do with this than you can possibly
imagine," she said with a crooked smile.
Merchant was in utter shock. "What is this?" was all he could
manage.
"What does it look like, Sherlock?" Annie spat. "If you haven't
figured it out by now, your dimmer than I thought."
"You... you're..." Merchant stammered, barely believing what he
just now realized to be true. "You're on Messiah's payroll, aren't you?"
"Ding, ding! We have a winner!" Annie said. "Normally he hates
to outsource, but he thought that the best way to lure you out would need a
woman's touch."
"So... how long..."
"From the beginning," Annie said calmly. "Messiah paid me
handsomely months in advance to arrange all this. He knew that this was
the only place you would feel safe once he dropped the hammer. Why else
do you think a babe like me would even touch a loser like you? Going to
dank bars every weekend, swilling cheap beer and listening to you prattle
on with that crony of yours. God, am I glad that Rook waxed him today."
"You mean that this was all a setup?" Merchant asked, his face still
drained of color. "You never... were interested in me?"
"Interested in you?" Annie said with a chuckle. "God, no! You're
cheap, boring, and so inept in bed that it makes me want to laugh in your
face. I'll be glad to see you out of my hair." She raised her pistol and
pointed it at Merchant's head. "Consider yourself dumped."
The human survival instinct is a wonderful thing. No matter what
conditions a person finds himself under, the main objective at any time is
to remain alive. All emotions are quickly set aside in favor of instinctual
behavior that maximizes the individual's chances of surviving. Thus,
despite Merchant's confused mind and broken heart, he was able to act
quickly to avoid the danger before him. He braced his hands on the couch
and flipped backwards, simultaneously reaching back and grabbing his
twin Duquettes. Once safely behind the couch, and with his enemies
already shooting at him, he turned off the safeties and shot blindly over the
back of the couch, emptying his clips into various parts of the room. Once
his ammunition was exhausted, he could hear no more firing. He
cautiously peeked up over the couch and saw the dead bodies of the two
men in gray coats. Before he could wonder why there was no sign of
Annie, she suddenly popped up in front of him, her pistol pointed directly
at his head.
Annie smiled wickedly as Merchant slowly replaced his empty
pistols into their holsters. "You are a piece of work, Merchant," she said.
"Quick with a gun, but not too fast in the brains department. Far too
trusting, and far too gullible. You never could have led the Zaibatsu
adequately. You were a stumbling block in Messiah's vision. Now,
you're just a headstone."
The woman that he was ready to give his heart to, the woman that,
if anyone had asked, he would have said that he loved without hesitation,
had just revealed herself to be a traitor and a liar. Merchant felt a gnawing
ache in the pit of his stomach, and a sour taste rising in his throat.
Nevertheless, his marvelous survival instincts kicked in and told him just
what he needed to do. As he watched Annie begin to squeeze the trigger,
he leapt off to one side. Simultaneously, he withdrew one of the two
throwing knives that he kept, one pinned up each sleeve. Because of
Merchant's sudden movement, Annie's first shot missed. However, her
second shot surely would not, as she began leading him perfectly with her
sights. Before she could pull the trigger, Merchant flung the knife at her.
The silvery blade sunk deep into Annie's right eye. She shrieked in pain
as she fired. The blow cause her shot to be yanked slightly off line, and
the bullet hit Merchant in the shoulder. He, too, yelped in agony as he hit
the floor.
Merchant was the first to stand up. He looked and saw that Annie
was all but incapacitated, writhing on the floor, clutching the knife that
invaded her ocular cavity, screeching and whimpering. Merchant stood
over her briefly, blood leaking steadily down his arm, staining red the
sleeve of the light blue windbreaker he had bought previously at the
clothing boutique. All of his training, all of his common sense dictated
that he should have killed her. It would have been easy to pick up the gun
that Annie had dropped and finish off the work of the knife. But, in the
long-run, killing her would have been meaningless; Messiah was the one
he had to deal with. So, with a heavy heart and immobile right arm, he
said not a word as he climbed out the window and somehow used his one
good arm to descend the fire escape.
As he walked down the street, he tried several times to move his
arm, which he could not do without searing pain. Merchant surmised that
Annie was using hollow-point bullets, and that the shot had hit the
shoulder joint and shattered the scapula. He would need medical attention
if he was to regain the use of his arm. Besides the pain in his shoulder, his
head felt very light. In one day, his rise to prominence, and indeed the
very essence of his life, had been derailed. He was reduced to nothing, a
mere shadow. He had gone from the hunter to the hunted, and there was
no one there to listen to his plight. He was alone, he was frightened, and
he was very angry.
His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts as he struggled down the
streets, trying his best to blend into crowds and not draw attention to
himself, despite his red-stained jacket. By the time he reached the hospital
and stumbled through the automated doors, he was almost completely
numb. He collapsed before the receptionist, his tears mixing with the
blood from his shoulder on the off-white tiles of the lobby floor.