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-A-
There were many things that Clint hated about his 'ownership' but the one that was really bugging him right now, the same thing that bugged him before any large job he pulled was that he had to pay for his supplies himself. Yes, he got paid for being in service to Moretti and when he was on loan to other organisations he got his pay check from them. But it was hardly a large fee and weapons did not come cheap. It was just another string that made up his leash. So he worked around it.
Counting all the cash he had stored away he knew it wouldn't be enough for what he had planned. He could ask Daiki for help acquiring the supplies but the idea didn't sit well with him. Daiki would be obliged to inform his uncle who would go one of two ways, he'd be allowed to carry on with his plan, or he'd get told to think of something else. Clint would rather not take the risk that Kimura would tell him no. This plan was his best option for staying alive, he wouldn't change it now.
The same went for going to Alberto, except with Alberto they'd be more lecturing involved. Especially since he'd left Alberto's office last night without being dismissed. Alberto might be fairer than most men in the criminal underworld but that didn't mean that he'd stand for any disrespect. Which left Clint one final option, he had to find more money on his own.
There were several ways of doing this. Card games with an added sleight of hand thrown in. But that could be a lengthy process as you had to find the right game to start with. Then there was pick pocketing. There were plenty of wealthy business men and tourists in Tokyo, both of which carried lots of cash on them. If he kept moving he could keep picking pockets for a good few hours before the police were alerted. By which time he'd be long gone.
Grabbing his jacket and rucksack he headed out for a slightly less than honest day's work. He might not like talking about his days in the circus but he'd been taught and perfected many skills in the years he'd been there. Skills he put to use now with ease and for that he would always be thankful for those teachings, even if some of the lessons had left permanent scars on his mind and body.
Pushing all those dark memories back into the lock box he kept in his mind, he didn't need to think about his past. He couldn't change it, so there was no point dwelling on it.
-A-
Clint had been picking pockets for a few hours now, by the weight of his bag he thought he'd got a good haul. A few more and he'd call it a day. Whatever he had he'd have to make do with. That's when it went wrong.
Brushing up against a Caucasian man in a black suit he found his wrist suddenly grabbed as the man turned around and pulled him in close.
"Nothing there but trouble, kid," said the man staring into Clint's eyes.
Stunned Clint froze, but just as quickly as the man had grabbed a hold of him he let go and turned and walked away. Clint watched as the man got lost in the crowd. The sudden adrenaline that had rushed though him from being caught was fading fast and leaving him shaken. Nobody had caught Clint in the act of picking their pocket since he was nine years old. The smack around his ear his brother had given him that day had made sure of that. Yet this guy not only felt the pick but also was quick enough to catch his wrist, but more surprisingly was that he let Clint go.
Definitely time to call it a day before his luck changed for the worse. Slipping through the crowds he moved in the opposite direction that the mystery man went. It was time Clint went to go get his supplies and complete the job.
- A-
Clint was positioned on the roof of a warehouse opposite his target. He'd waited until it was closer to midnight when it seemed the numbers of the Bōsōzoku in and around the warehouse were highest. Standing up and positioning his newly acquired grenade launcher he couldn't help but smile as he fired. The amount of gasoline inside the building was going to make one mighty firework display. Then like moths to a flame all the bad guys would come out of hiding and make Clint's job of picking them off one by one that much easier.
The first grenade went straight through the top window, followed by the second one going through the open garage door. Clint felt the heat of the explosions from where he was already moving to his next position. Laying down with a sniper rifle that he had already set up he set his sight on the main door. He'd blocked off the small back door of the warehouse earlier that night on his way to his start position. If people wanted out of that warehouse they were coming out the front, directly into his line of fire.
Clint fired his first shot at the men standing outside the warehouse, before anyone realised that they were under attack and not witnessing a freak accident of their HQ going up in flames. Within seconds though men were stumbling out of the warehouse, their bodies on fire and screams coming from their burned throats. Clint took each of them down with a single shot to the head. Killing didn't bother him, but he wasn't a sadist. He made his kills quickly, he didn't make them suffer, not like that.
The people who weren't on fire were looking around in confusion and panic. The realisation dawning on them that this was no accident. Some tried to ride away on their bikes but Clint took them out too. Others had their guns out and began searching the area for him.
He knew at some point they'd work out where he was positioned so he wasn't surprised when the return fire started, he had only hoped that he'd had more time to pick off a few more first.
Rolling backwards so he was away from the edge he left the grenade launcher and the rifle on the roof while he got to his feet and started running towards the next roof. Pulling out the handgun he had positioned at the back of his pants waistband he fired two shots down into the alley as he jumped the gap between buildings. He had seen two men run into the ally when the shooting started, both men now lay dead as both bullets hit their intended targets before he'd even landed.
Clint rolled as he hit the second roof picking up a sub-machine gun he'd positioned there earlier. Turning to face the now burning warehouse, the flames rising several feet above the roof illuminating the entire area, he let off a quick burst of ammunition into the growing crowd of Bōsōzoku as they attempted to re-group.
A noise from behind him made him turn quickly to see three men climbing onto the roof, all with guns and all aiming at him. Diving behind a nearby AC vent he took cover as bullets hit the spot he had just been standing in. So he hadn't planned on them coming up to the roof but it made little difference. He waited until there was a pause in gunfire that told him the men were reloading, only then did Clint stand up and return fire.
Pop, pop, pop.
Three shots. Three more dead Bōsōzoku.
Clint looped the strap of the sub-machine gun over his shoulder before he stepped off the roof. He landed in a crouch on the lid of a closed dumpster that was positioned in the alley he had just jumped over. Dropping down to the floor he edged towards the end of the alley and peered into the main forecourt only to get shots fired at him. Lunging backwards to save himself he took a deep breath before he pointed the sub-machine gun around the corner and returned fire until he had no ammunition left. Not the best of tactics, but it would do one of two things. One if he were lucky it would take out the guys firing at him. Or two it would just give him time to sight better for when the opposition reared their heads again from wherever they had scrambled to.
Casting aside the bigger gun he un-holstered the handgun he had strapped to his left thigh. The joys of being ambidextrous meant his aim was excellent with both hands, though he did favour his left. With a handgun in each hand he stepped out of the alley. Two bodies were on the floor in front of him, then like the game whack-a-mole guys started popping up from behind crates, and bikes and burning piles of trash. Each guy that popped up went down with a head shot from Clint.
Then just when Clint thought it safe to think things were actually going well, that he might actually leave this place alive a sharp pain exploded in his side. He went sprawling forward, hitting the ground hard. Gritting his teeth he pushed himself up into a sitting position just in time to catch a boot aiming for his head.
In one swift move Clint stood up while keeping a hold of his attackers leg. He grunted as pain in his side spiked. Ignoring the pain for now and the urge to look down to see how bad the wound was, he instead sent his right elbow down in a crushing blow to the guy's knee. Clint let go of the now screaming man as he simultaneously pulled a long knife from where it was sheathed down his spine his back and swiped it across the man's neck. Blood spurted from the wound; he had cut both the carotid artery and the jugular, but also the man's trachea. The screaming stopped instantly as the body collapsed to the ground.
Clenching his teeth Clint pressed his right hand to his right side, the feel of his own blood started to cover his fingers. A bullet had ripped through his side just above his hip. On the positive side there was an exit wound which meant the bullet was no longer inside him. On the negative side it meant he had two wounds to deal with, both of which were bleeding profusely and to add more pressure to the situation he could now hear sirens in the distance. Looking around he couldn't see anybody lying in wait for him, just a lot of dead bodies. It was time for him to get out of here. Getting caught would not be a positive experience for him, and he didn't think Kimura would post his bail.
Keeping a hold of his knife he picked up one of the handguns from where he had dropped it and started moving towards his exit point all be it slower than he liked. He slipped into another alleyway which would lead him to where he had left his borrowed vehicle when once again he was suddenly flying forward, this time by a solid push to the middle of his back.
The sound of a gun being fired next to him had his ears ringing as he spun around to see his attacker, bringing his knife up as he went. He didn't like that he hadn't heard someone get that close to him, if he was making those kinds of mistakes then he might have to admit that he was more injured than he liked.
His knife was blocked by a firm grip to his wrist and suddenly he was staring into the same eyes of the man who had stopped him from picking his pocket.
"You," gasped Clint.
"Me," answered the man pointing his weapon past Clint and firing again. Clint pulled backwards out of the mans grasp only then to see two dead bodies on the ground. Bōsōzoku Clint had missed.
"Who are you?" asked Clint as he aimed his own gun at the guy who had apparently just saved his life. Not that that was any reason for Clint to trust this guy. Movement behind the mystery man had him looking further down the alley. Three more Bōsōzoku were coming towards him, shifting his aim slightly Clint took them all out with single shots to the chest. He didn't want to admit it, but his vision was starting to grey, so he'd aimed for larger targets than the heads of the approaching men. He quickly shifted his aim back to the mystery man who was no more than three feet in front of him.
"Someone who's very interested in why you have just taken out a mass assassination," said the man as he shifted his own aim of his weapon so it was pointed at Clint's chest. "Are you going to shoot me?"
"You're not my concern," shrugged Clint, letting his arms lower slightly.
"Really?" asked the suit guy raising an eyebrow in surprise.
"No, I..." Clint was cut off from saying anything more as several Bōsōzoku dropped down from the warehouse roofs. Clint let out a low growl in annoyance, these guys were like cockroaches. He thought he'd got them all only to find more creeping out of the woodwork.
The nearest one knocked the gun out of Clint's hand with a fast kick. Bringing up his knife in retaliation Clint slashed forward attempting to cut into the attacking man. Pushing past the pain that made the whole of his right side feel like it was on fire; he dodged, ducked and dived out of the way of his attacker. Coming up from a crouch he stabbed the man through the abdomen, giving a harsh twist as he pulled the knife out. The eyes of his attacker went wide before the body dropped to the floor. Clint never really liked the up close and personal kills, much preferred to take targets out from a distance.
His vision suddenly wavered making the world tilt and he found himself sliding down the nearest wall until he was sitting on the floor. All of his energy now gone, the grey spots in his field of vision having tuned to big black spots. He looked further down the alley to see the mystery man standing up to his full height and straightening his suit and tie. Four un-moving bodies lay crumpled around him.
"Looks like you could use some help," said the mystery man crouching in front of Clint.
"Not from you, I don't," breathed Clint. He knew he was in bad shape but he didn't know this guy. And some mystery man in a suit with mad skills offering him help sounded like it had an awfully big catch attached to it. "You need...to go," breathed Clint as he clenched his eyes closed. Not to far away he could hear car doors opening. But the sirens were still too far away which meant it wasn't the police that had arrived.
"Why?"
"'Cos 'm goin' home," smirked Clint as he opened his eyes and looked to the opening of the alley, where four men were moving towards them.
"Friends?" asked the suit guy.
"Owner," mumbled Clint as his eyes closed.
Four guns were suddenly aiming at the suit guy, standing up he turned and ran in the opposite direction. No shots were fired after him and his last view of the young man was of him being carried away to the awaiting vehicle.