If anyone has seen the movie Memento, you'll see where I'm going with this story. It's basically told in the same style as the movie, minus the black and white parts. Anyways, this is my second fanfic so far, after my Soul Calibur fic. Please review on the writing, and I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 1: The Final Chapter

Baiken still couldn't remember anything after the incident, what with that damn bump on her head. The short-term memory loss kept kicking in and again she couldn't remember what she was doing on the side of the abandoned highway at midnight, holding a shovel and staring into a hole in the dirt. She couldn't fathom what she could possibly be doing with this tool.

She tilted her head upwards with a crick in her neck. Twisting her head around in a counterclockwise circle and listening to the cracking sounds, she saw a few more figures with shovels surrounding the hole. There was that cop. The holy cop. Whatever he was called, the guy with the sword that shot lightning and stuff. She saw the sword at his side and his shovel in his right hand, which he immediately dropped to the ground. Baiken watched him exhale and hike over to a large black van with the headlights pointed towards the hole, so that it would be visible in the pitch black of the night.

She squinted and saw another silhouette drop a shovel with his right hand while holding something in his mouth with his left hand and walking alongside the cop in white. He coughed with an aging voice that could only belong to the nightwalker. As she squinted even more she noticed a pair of extremely long legs descend from the back of the van and set themselves in the dust. A large hand adjusted a paper bag atop an oversized head while reaching into the back of the vehicle with the other two. The demon doctor, obviously. Baiken sighed. The realization that she was working with these people triggered another tobacco craving.

She reached into her kimono, pulled out her pipe and gripped it between her teeth, then pulled a match out which she struck against its box. She lit her pipe while watching the three fools struggle with whatever they were carrying out of the van.

She heard another cough, this time from a few feet to her side. She turned her head and saw the owner of that restaurant she always goes to, standing next to a pile of displaced dirt with her shovel still in hand, firmly planted in the ground. She seemed to be waiting with Baiken for whatever the other three in the van were hauling out.

Baiken watched patiently as the nightwalker and the cop retraced their steps to the hole again, this time carrying two ends of a rather large and heavy object which sagged the more they walked closer together. They reached the hole and clumsily dropped their load in. Baiken continued to watch and saw that the load was a human body, a very special one, actually. Her eye widened when she recognized it. It was that witch with the guitar, the one that worked for That Man. Her red clothes were stained an even deeper color of red with her own blood, which spread all over the corpse from the area between her chest and her neck. Her demonic hat was crushed and slipping off her head as she tumbled deeper into the crevice. Baiken half smiled. She was glad that witch was finally among the deceased.

Immediately after the remains reached the bottom, the cook pressed her shovel into the pile of dirt and began to refill the hole. Baiken watched the dirt fall on top of the witch's head and she sort of snickered to herself. She picked her own shovel back up and proceeded to help with the refilling job.

The nightwalker and the cop stood there, brushing their hands off on their pants and cloaks. The demon doctor finally shuffled out of the van, grasping a shovel which appeared much more miniscule than it actually was due to his enormous height. His shoulders towered over his slouching head as he awkwardly walked with his giant legs until he reached the dirt pile and crouched down to average height, assisting Baiken and the cook.

"It appears this adventure is finally over, would you agree?" the nightwalker said, smoking his pipe with his left hand in his pocket. "Or perhaps, this adventure has only begun?"

The holy cop stared at him blankly. "What?"

"Perhaps this adventure is only a story told in reverse chronological order by an amateur author, in which the final chapter of this story will be the start of our tale and vice versa. Wouldn't you agree?"

The police officer lifted an eyebrow as the nightwalker smoked away. "May I ask what's in that pipe you're smoking? Because I have a feeling that it's not legal."

"No, you may not ask. I shall continue to keep my smoking material secret from the officers of the law," the nightwalker's eyes began to drift.

"I know that smell! Give me your pipe or I'll place you under arrest!"

"You'll never catch me copper!" the old nightwalker shouted while running in the opposite direction and fading away from view.