Dang, second chapter already! Well, in any case, don't expect me to upload as quickly from now on. This chapter is relatively long, but I found it necessary to set up events for the future. Please review!

Chapter 2: For Survival

He sipped tea like a happy old man. And he was, too. The man who sat down in this extremely comfortable chair, in this large, spacious library, with this huge window, was one of the most powerful men in Karakura Town. Nobody knew his real name, but everyone knew what he called himself: Baraggan Luisenbarn. He, like many who lived in this area of Karakura, was a gaijin, a foreigner. Judging by his western ethnicity, he was one of the "welcomed foreigners", one of those who came after the Collapse to help offset the nation's dwindling population. It didn't matter now, anyway; whether he was initially welcomed or unwelcomed, he was unwelcomed now. Baraggan was a stern looking old man, with white hair, white beard, and white eye brows. Scars covered his whole muscular body, but one particularly nasty one covered his right eye, which had apparently been rendered useless. He wore a nice suit to go along with his nice house, and sipped expensive tea to go along with his expensive shoes. You see, Baraggan was unusual amongst immigrants. While most immigrants lived in poverty and squalor, he lived in relative comfort and security. That was because he was a leader of the "Immigrant Mafia", what the Japanese called "Gaikoku-jin no gyangu" or "foreigner gangs". In this country, it was the only way a foreigner could make decent money without joining the military and fighting in the wars, and for those who became important leaders, it proved very lucrative. Baraggan continued to sip his expensive tea, when one of his men came in. He was a tall slender young man with long blonde hair that came to the middle of his back; he had a chiseled, handsome face, alluring eyes, and wore picture perfect morning dress. He stood straight and at attention and said, "Sir, there is a Koga Gō here to see you."

Baraggan put down his tea and said, "Yes, send him in Carias."

"Yes sir, right away."

The blonde young man walked out of the room, and in came another man. This man was tall, no, not just tall, but immense. He was impressively muscular, further accentuated by his green muscle shirt. He dressed simply, wearing jeans and hiking boots with his shirt, and having a pair of large cordless head phones around his neck. He was a brunette, but a small, slender patch of his hair in the middle grew longer than the rest into a Mohawk and was died orange. Though he had said that his name was Koga Gō, he clearly was not Japanese, what with his dark skin, and non-Japanese human features, he was obviously of some "brown" ethnic group, but exactly what you couldn't tell by looking. He looked at Baraggan undaunted, though the old man simply stared back and said, "Well, what do you want."

"The shipment you ordered has arrived. You can send your men to pick it up tonight at 11:00. That is when they bring the money," the big man said.

"Ah yes, I will be sure to do that. Give my thanks to Kariya."

"Sure thing." Go turned to walk out when he looked to his left and stopped. He was staring at a painting on the wall.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Koga?" Baraggan had put his tea down and put his hands together.

"This painting is a Monet, a real Monet."

"Yes, yes it is."

"These can go for millions."

"Well, I did pay a hefty dollar for them."

Go turned to face the old man and said, "Does it ever bother you that you live this life of luxury while so many of your fellow immigrants can't even put food on the table?"

"Heh, why should I care? If I can make it, they can make it too! If they don't, it's their own damn fault."

The old man didn't flinch one iota. Go looked at him hard for a while, then said, "Thank you for your time sir", and walked out.

She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. Such an impatient woman she is! She looked at that door as if anticipating that God himself would walk through. What is taking so damn long, she thought. The young woman had Asian features, long dark hair dyed teal and a beautiful face, mired by the fact that she always wore it in a frown, well, most of the time at least. She wore a traditional Chinese qipao, beige pants, and Chinese shoes, though whether or not she was, or wasn't, Chinese was uncertain. Even her real name was a mystery, but when anyone asked her for it, she always gave the same answer, "Yoshi". She perked her head up when she saw a large dark skinned man leave the large mansion she was parked in front of. He walked up to the car and let himself in.

"What the hell kept you," Yoshi yelled.

Gō Koga, not even looking at her, answered, "Nothing, let's just go."

Yoshi grunted, put the car in gear and pulled off. As she did so, Go pulled out a cellphone and dialed a number. After holding it up to his ear for a while, he spoke, saying, "Yeah, it's Claude. He got the message. You sure you want to make this deal? Yes, sir. Yes, sir, I understand. Ok. Bye."

Go put down his phone and sighed. I need a new job, he thought.

"I don't know about this, Yukio."

"Just relax. It's simple. You go in, show him the product, then leave. It will only take a few minutes Chad."

The taller man looked out the window towards the bar. The bar itself was in a back alley, away from the main road. The taller man turned towards his compatriot in the car, a much smaller Japanese looking man with spiky hair and wearing a black cap and extremely dark clothing.

"This doesn't feel right," the taller man says, turned towards his partner.

"Listen, we've done this dozens of times, so there is no reason to all of a sudden grow cold feet," his shorter friend replies.

The taller man had darker skin, which was in fact quite brown. His hair had some length to it: it came down to his shoulders, and was wavy and brown. He had a pronounced square chin, and a thin face. He was muscular, and wore a simple shirt, jeans, and tennis shoes. He didn't look Japanese at all, but he was, in fact, half Japanese.

"I just don't know if we should be doing this in the mafia's territory," the big guy replied

"Look Chad: you know we need the money right? This is for survival, not just for the sake of doing it. This is the only guy we know who will handle this score right now, so we have to take the risk. Just remember, in and out."

The big guy, Chad, sat there silently for a few minutes more, not looking at his smaller partner, Yukio, and then he grabbed a backpack, finally opened the door to the car and got out. As he closed the door back, he looked both ways down the street to make sure nobody was on the road, and nobody was. He then ran across the street to the back alley. The alley itself was dark and narrow. It was a pedestrian pathway between large buildings, but there were few pedestrians. He walked down the alleyway till he came to an unusually large wooden door: above the door was the sign "Golden Eagle Bar". He opened the door and walked inside.

The bar was actually western style, with western seats, booths, tables, and counter. There was no one in the bar itself, except for the bartender who was polishing a glass in that stereotypical way bartenders do. Chad stood there, at the door, just watching the bartender. The bartender, without so much as stopping what he was doing or even acknowledging Chad's presence said, in American English, "Did you bring it?"

"Yes," Chad replied, also in English, but with a heavy Latino accent.

"Well, follow me," the bartender replied.

Chad followed the bartender to the back room: it was a simple office, with a door on the other side of it and a desk and chair in the middle. On the walls were pictures of the bartender with various friends, and there numerous filing cabinets round about the room. Chad closed the door behind himself and the bartender sat in the chair in the office.

"Well, show me," the bartender says.

Chad opens his backpack and removes a single vial. In this vial was a dark red, almost blood looking liquid. Chad held it up so that the bartender could get a good look at it.

"Show me it works."

Chad paused a bit, and then opened another patch in his backpack. He removed a small device with a needle and a trigger with a grip. Chad shook the vile and attached the end to the strange device. The mixture began to bubble for a second, and when it stopped, Chad put the device up to his neck, with the needle facing towards him. He pulled the trigger and the needle pieced his skin. The red liquid drained out of the vial and into his body. When it was finished, he put the device back in his backpack. He stood there for a second, and then he leaned on the desk. He began to change: his breathing became deep and shallow. He started shaking uncontrollably, his whole body convulsing madly. His mouth was going a mile a minute as if saying something, but he said nothing. His eyes grew wide, his muscles tightened, his hand clenched and suddenly he reared back and fell to his knees. He just stared at the ceiling, mouth wide open as if being forced open. He suddenly slumped, breathing heavily, resting his body on his large, pulsing arms. He was breathing deep and heavy now, and had stopped shaking. He began to chuckle under his breath and then spoke, a deep, Hispanic voice, somewhat raspy, but filled with a kind of malicious intent he lacked before.

"Are you satisfied, señor?"

"Not yet," the bartender replied, "let me see your face."

Chad looked up at the bartender and let him see his blood shot, intense eyes. A slasher's smile was plastered across Chad's face.

"Yes, now I am satisfied."

Yukio sat in the vehicle, peeling a banana. He was used to this kind of thing. He understood his friend Sado "Chad" Yasutora's misgivings about the situation, but they really had no choice. Their clients were switching over to the Baraggan faction of the Immigrant Mafia. Originally, Baraggan wouldn't touch their drug, "Fullbring", now the two groups are on the verge of a gang war. Yukio took a bite out of his banana, being sure to keep a low profile. Then he noticed something: several men, westerners judging from appearances, began walking into the alleyway from the street. They were dressed in normal street clothes, but the way they carried themselves gave them away as gangsters.

"Damn."

Yukio reached into his pocket and took out a cell phone. He pressed a single button and put the phone up to his ear.

Chad's phone began to ring. The bartender was counting out the money to be paid for the Fullbring on the desk.

"Excuse me," Chad says, taking out his cell phone.

The seven foot tall behemoth, which he was, now that he was under the influence of Fullbring, turned away from the bartender and answered his phone.

"Chad, its Yukio! Get the hell out of there now! Baraggan's guys will come busting up in there any minute!"

Chad immediately puts down his phone and yelled out to the bartender, "Get down!" Just then someone burst through the rear door and there was a loud bang. The bartender's head exploded even as he was getting ready to count another bill. Brain matter and skull covered the far wall as the shotgun wielding assailant began to turn his weapon on Chad. But to Chad, under the influence of Fullbring, the man was moving impossibly slow; Chad immediately began to move, even before the man had begun to turn towards him.

You see, Fullbring, the U.S. military codename for the drug, is a stimulant. In fact, it is the most powerful stimulant known to man. All of a person's senses, heightened to almost superhuman levels, while their body begins to increase production of such chemicals as adrenaline and dopamine, damaging the parts of the body that produce these chemicals. Chad's brain was taking in and handling sensory information more than twice as fast as normal.

He immediately charged the man, and in seconds was staring him in the face. The gunman couldn't even react as Chad grabbed his face with his left hand and his gun with his right. Stuck in Chad's grip he let go of his weapon and grabbed Chad's arm, struggling in vain to break free. Chad could hear more guys come busting through the front door. He picked up the poor foul in his hand, holding him a full foot off the ground. He fixed the shotgun so he was holding it correctly then turned to face the door he originally entered through. A smile crossed his face as he kicked the door down. As soon as he did, dozens of bullets peppered the body of the man he was holding. Chad dropped the body of the man and dove behind the bar counter as bullets tore into the wood. Chad looked up as a man ran around the counter to get a shot off, and immediately shot the man in the chest, literally causing it to explode. He then ran to the other end of the counter, and waited for the gunfire to die down. These guys were obviously not professionals as they all ran out of ammo at the same time. Chad moved immediately from behind the counter: he fired immediately on the first man he saw dropping him instantly. He then noticed immediately that another man was loading another shotgun and shot him without skipping a beat. He tried to shoot a third assailant but his shotgun was out of ammo. He threw down the empty shotgun, balled up his fist and charged. The third gunman managed to reload but just as he brought his weapon to bear, he was dropped by a well placed punch to his kidney and taken out by two fingers pushed deep into his eyes sockets. The fourth and final would-be killer had actually reloaded his weapon and trained it on Chad. Chad noticed and moved instantly. The attacker fired, and Chad dropped down into a boxing stance and danced lightly to the side, missing the bullet altogether. The man tried to fire again and once again Chad moved out of the way, but this time also lurched forward. The man panicked and simply began firing madly, while Chad simply danced around like a boxer avoiding blows. He continued to move forward until he got right on top of the man, who screamed and turned to run: Chad jumped and mauled him. The man's screams were quickly beaten out of him, forever. Chad stood over his kill, covered in blood, breathing heavily. Just then he heard a gunshot and turned around to see a man hit the ground. Suddenly Yukio came running through the door, gun in hand.

"What are you waiting for? Grab the money and our drugs and let's get the heck out of here!"

Chad wasted no more time; he grabbed all the money the man had on his desk and in his still open safe and grabbed all the drugs, both what he was going to give the man and what he still had in his bag. Within two minutes Chad and Yukio were back in the car and long gone.