As usual, the disclaimer:
I do not own Slam Dunk. But Slam Dunk owns me (esp Rukawa) and I don't mind one bit. ^__^
BTW, a short greeting from me to you. : ) I started this fic with something else in mind (namely Rukawa) but somehow it turned out this way. *looks at herself in bafflement* I am so unpredictable that I myself don't know what I'll be typing in the next sentence… *scratches head*
Anyway, enjoy!
First chapter.
The community in the Bokotu area was well known for it's crude way of living. Violence exploded freely – unstoppable even – and the people had little care for other's affairs compared to their own. It was a very, very unfriendly place … and Kiara lived there.
It was barely suitable for a nineteen-year-old to live in such harsh conditions, but she decided she'd survived pretty well and didn't see any rushed need to move away. Well, of course, that's partly because she had no expenses to spare to move away. Any idea how much moving from one place to another can cost? Unless you're content with sleeping on newspapers in dark alleys under the stars and think it's romantic, it usually topped hundreds and hundreds of dollars.
Kiara didn't have hundreds and hundreds of dollars.
She just had hundred and hundreds of cents, which she estimated could buy her enough doughnuts for a month or so.
Money wasn't exactly the problem. If she needed any, there was always the nearby bank to break in. She felt she belonged there, between the corrupted city and its even more corrupted people. Leaving it would be like leaving … well, she didn't exactly know. She'd never tried.
But still, at the back of her mind, she thought a change would be nice.
There are better things she could do.
Better places she could be in.
Better people she could be with.
The sound of a police car blasting through the streets interrupted her. Kiara scowled, realizing that it was heading for the bank mentioned earlier. Luna and Pit were at it again, and they hadn't even invited her. She pouted before silently making her way to the old, crumbling construction site where she was sure her friends were sitting, happily counting the money they'd robbed while the police scramble around looking for clues.
She'd make sure she taught them a lesson for leaving her out of tonight's project. She HATED to be left out.
"Nothing," the plump police officer said, stretching his hands out to emphasize his meaning. "Absolutely clean. These are professional thieves, sir."
Sergeant Akagi scowled. "And you're not a professional police?" he raised one angry eyebrow, before delivering a skull cracking head punch on the officer's head. "All these years of training, and you come to me saying there were no clues. IDIOT! There are always clues. You're just too blind!"
Beside him, another officer chuckled as he stared sympathetically at the cowering fat officer who desperately nursed his aching head.
Akagi hissed. "What's to chuckle about?" he demanded, swirling now onto the unsuspecting but ready officer. "Third case in a row, and NOTHING. The press is going to dig into our backs about this!"
The officer made some clucking sounds, looking dreamily at a cigarette vending machine not far away. He regretted his move to stop smoking years ago. "I see."
"Now that you've seen," his captain said sarcastically, veins popping on his face. "Why don't you step over and INVESTIGATE THIS BLOODY ROBBERY??" He stamped his foot, a movement that shook the ground. "You think I brought you here just to sit on that car's boot and smile??"
"Chill, Akagi. You were always so temperamental."
"GO! NOW!"
"All right! All right!" Taking his eyes off the cigarette boxes winking seductively at him (only in his imagination), he grudgingly strode over to the scene of the crime. The workers and witnesses of the robbery were being interviewed. Not that it was much help. They were all used to robberies that one robbery was the same as the other.
There were no broken glasses, not much damage, except for the bent lock that was badly rammed with an instrument. He stared at it in disgust. If that was the kind of locks they use around here, he thought, then this bank deserves to be robbed. Who with a right mind would use this to lock millions of money??
"Excuse me," came a small, weedy-looking officer, staring at his casual clothing. "You're not supposed to be here. This place is only for policemen –"
"Mitsui Hisashi," he whipped out his badge. "Undercover agent."
Waah! Mitsui! Undercover agent! *Swoon* [unavailable for further comment – Gomen]