Disclaimer: Dead or Alive, characters, events and any other related materials are owned by Tecmo.inc, Team Ninja and Mr. Tomonobu Itagaki. This fanfiction regarding some/all of its elements are for personal entertainment purposes only and should not be distributed. Any original elements found here are hereby owned by me.
PROLOGUE
(Inside an apartment; Room 307; 2 weeks later...)
She began to cry...
"No! It shouldn't end this way!"
"We got no choice..."
"No! No! No!" She yelled.
It was unacceptable. Why does he have to pay for it? It was not his fault, it was hers. It was because of her that so much has been done. So much has been taken. So many people had gotten involved in a supposed to be isolated matter amongst the clan people.
Now this...
3 people inside an apartment room.
Earlier, a window has been shattered by a gunshot from outside. Shards of glass, pieces of paper and an overturned shelf litter the living room; the dusty carpet is stained with blood. The atmosphere was erringly silent for a moment, amidst the loud noises of car horns and city-life screeching from the other side of the confines of the apartment building.
The young man was wounded; apparently the bullet that shattered the window had found its mark. His stomach was bleeding; a clenched fist was grasping the wound to apply pressure on it. He wondered. Why is it that for the first time, he actually regretted all that he has ever done? It was funny. For him, his world only had himself, his sister and the rest of the people are just some hobos and ludicrously glutton yokels who had been hiring him ever since he was a kid. Under no holds-barred, eat-or-be eaten laws of life he led.
He viewed his life as rubbish. No hope for redemption, no second chances. He thought he had accepted that. And now, he wants a second chance.
And he wished he never had done that to her.
"Story of my life..." he smirked.
He began to pull out his gun. Underneath his leather jacket was a concealed pistol. Shaking, he cocked the gun. The weapon was loaded. He then handed it to the other man, tall and muscular. Quite a more honorable creature than he is.
"You do it..." he ordered.
"Are you...serious?" The other one replied.
"There's no time...You have to do it...Tell her...to..."
"No! Please! Don't do it!" She cut in.
"We have no choice! Get out of here before...before they find you!" He yelled. His voice was a bit faint; the wound on his stomach was already weakening him. He was fighting the pain, but his gasping breaths easily reveal that he's losing.
"No!" She insisted. "I vowed that nobody else has to die because of me! You're no excuse from that!"
She ran to his side, kneeling as she gripped his hand; pleading as tears pour down from her auburn eyes. Her eyes shined with hope, expecting for him to consider his hasty actions. She just would not let him kill himself. Rather badly.
But sometimes she doesn't realize that life can be a tragedy. She has yet to know that fact, again. After 2 weeks of serenity and peace she had spent. He turned his eyes to her; green orbs meeting in contact with her scarlet ones; tears were already streaming down from them like a river flowing from a broken heart. He hated himself for making other people cry like that. He caressed her cheek to calm her down; her face was now smudged with his blood. The young man grinned. Even though the blood mars her beauty, the angelic countenance remained unscathed; such a clean face, a clean soul. Those were the two things he'd wanted to see for so long.
From somebody else aside his sister.
At that moment, he was sure that there is still a future for her at least. A bright one. Like the one he had been dreaming of for his own sister. He found resolve. She has to live. Yes. He must do anything to get her out of here alive. Before they take her. It is such a waste if she had wasted the opportunity to live for tomorrow.
He gave a sad smile.
"I'm sorry...we...we got no other choice..." He whispered.
"No. Don't do this to me..." She closed her eyes in grief.
"You'll take care of her...won't you?" He asked the other man.
He nodded. No words are needed for a seemingly last request like that.
The wounded young man took a deep breath.
"I guess I'll die a patsy, eh?"
It was in that instant that he made up his mind. He gripped the pistol harder, rekindling the old feeling of holding the cold steel of a gun.
Suddenly, there were noises. He turned around when he heard some commotion going on at the first floor.
From outside the building, several men clad in black fatigues were already storming the apartment. Donning black vests, helmets, and radios and wielding firearms. They kept chattering in their receivers. Orders are overheard from their headphones; at least in a form of jumbled verbal radio static as partly-panicking civilians look on with awe and their eyes wide. It came to them that the police was raiding the apartment. The people were scurrying everywhere, but to no avail; the policemen weren't allowing anyone to leave the building. Doors and exits were being sealed off as bystanders and the living folk scatter about as if in a pandemic. The agents were rushing up to the only flight of stairs; others went to search other rooms.
Their entrance was fluid and well-drilled; barking at civilians to get down as they pass them. Whatever it is that they are here for seems to be a very serious pressing issue. Their orders were strict, whatever they are. Soon other police cars arrived at the scene; more agents have entered the apartment.
And then there came a huffing noise…
A police helicopter has also arrived; its blades chopping the air as the rotor gives off a mechanical purr, rather faintly. It is clear that it is hovering from a couple hundred feet or more; high enough to safely and effectively monitor the situation below.
"Priority 1 must be taken alive, do you copy? Priority 1 must be taken alive." says their handler via the radio.
"Roger that, Command." one of the agents below replied.
"Secondary suspects are identified to be within the building. Be advised: suspects are armed and are extremely dangerous. Proceed with caution. Shoot to incapacitate upon visual contact. Shoot to kill when engaged. Apprehend the suspects as much as possible. Do you copy?"
"Roger that, Command. All teams be advised, watch your fire. Repeat. All teams watch your fire. Minimize all necessary force. All teams, what's your status, over?"
With a gesture of a hand, he ordered his men to follow him. They were headed upstairs. The second floor was immediately searched to see if their man was there. Room by room. But all they could find were several frightened civilians, shaking as gun after gun were pointed at them. Then the agent's receiver picked up more calls.
"This is Alpha Team. Uh, we've secured the southwest sector; no contact with targets. Holding our perimeter, standing by for further orders, over."
"Bravo Team reporting in. Entry and exit points have been secured. Eye in the sky tells a negative on any unusual movement within our established perimeter. Awaiting orders, over."
"This is Bravo 3. We've set up a sniper position just north of the site. No activity sighted from the 3rd to the 10th floors. The windows were all closed. Be advised, over."
"This is Bravo 4. We got a visual on a possible location of Priority 1. There's a window shattered in one of the rooms of the 3rd floor. I guess it's a room 15, or 7. Better check it out. No movement as of yet. Look's like it's from a gunshot. We're keeping a close watch, over."
"Affirmative. Maintain your sniper positions. Charlie Team's headed up the third floor. Cover us as we go."
As a matter of fact, they have already reached the third floor. Just in a split second. They slowly crept along the hallway, while inching their way for door after door. Taking the guess of their comrades outside, they have scanned the doors for a 7 or a 15. It was odd that the third floor had almost no occupants; most of the people they had apprehended for their safety were on this floor upwards; or had just hid themselves elsewhere. Nobody was peeking out from their doors.
Then they finally made it to a room. Number 15 was surprisingly just in front of it. But that wouldn't matter. They've positioned themselves at either side. Their guns were fixed to aim at anything that will move. They were ready for anything. They decided to check first the room to their left.
And then, with a slow pace of anticipation, the nearest police officer stretched out his hand towards the door knob.
Room 307.