Shadowchasers: Something Borrowed

By Mei1105

Chapter 3: Planning

It was one of those nights.

Bastien could feel it in his bones.

He should have called it a night about an hour ago. He was not obligated to sit around the central business district into the small hours of the morning. But every time he told himself he should go home and sleep, he would tell himself to wait another five minutes, just to see if there was any trouble. Night time was the business hour for many Shadowkind - it was far easier to move around when ninety percent of Mundanes were in bed. Maybe a fight would break out nearby. Or one of the offices would be robbed. Or maybe he would get really lucky, and the sea witch that had plagued his thoughts since that afternoon would pop up.

Or maybe you just don't want to sleep, Bastien.

He groaned and shook his head. Perhaps Thando was right. Maybe he did need a break.

Still the thought of finally getting a lead on this case was too tempting to pass up, and he wasn't willing to sit tightly and wait for Vuyo to get here and start answering their questions. At the very least, this was a loose thread which he needed to tie up. And unlike the vanishing people, the sea witch seemed to be vaguely tangible.

Shifting his weight against his bike, his eyes darted down either end of Strand Street. Wedged in the grid between it and Wale Street, were a crisscross of roads, in which lived clusters of bars, clubs and other late night stores, some Mundane, but a large portion of them run by Shadowkind. If anything was going to happen tonight, Bastien would have put bets on it happening here. Rather than circle his bike around like a vulture hovering over a dying animal, he chose instead to sit, wait and listen. He would hear any trouble long before he saw it.

Trouble like that, he thought with a groan, as drunken shouting came floating down Loop Street. On closer inspection, he recognised the distinctive cadences of abyssal. Perhaps due to its long history of superstition, magic, and bloody human conflict, South Africa had seen its fair share of demons over the centuries, and remnants of those made up a not inconsiderable amount of the Shadow population. Not wanting to get involved with a rowdy gang right now, he slid himself and his bike quietly back into the shadow of a nearby archway.

Something musky and enticing wafted up to his nose, and a sultry voice breathed over his ear.

"You look lonely, Shadowchaser," the whisper crooned. "Company isn't that hard to find, you know."

"Evening Rana," Bastien replied, in a bored monotone, glancing over one shoulder to observe the dusky skinned woman perched on the end of his D-Wheel. "Slipped your leash again?"

The woman laughed, a heavy, husky noise that made the hair on Bastien's neck stand on end. Her tail coiled its way around the handle of the bike, flicking tantalisingly back and forth. "Literally. But then, nobody says I can't do a spot of...recreational activity on the side of my job."

"Hmm…" Bastien lifted a sardonic eyebrow. "So who's your current employer then?"

Another laugh. This time the tail began to trail teasingly up his arm.

"Wouldn't you like to know, babe. Wouldn't you like to know."

Bastien would dearly like to know. Rana had the dubious honour of being one of the most prolific succubi in Cape Town. From what he had been able to gather, there seemed to be a community of men in the city, who whether because of age, ugliness, or the prevalence of HIV in the country, preferred to engage the services of demons for their pleasures rather than go to the trouble of finding willing prostitutes. The circles were extremely exclusive, tightly connected, and finding any evidence against them was nearly impossible, as they tended to close ranks if one of them was accused. Bastien and Thando had been trying for years, but had never managed to pin anything concrete on them.

Rolling his eyes, Bastien shook the tail off before it could ghost further south. "Must be someone expensive if you're dressed like that." He nodded his head to the smart grey pencil dress that clung lovingly to her backside.

"We're more sophisticated than you might think," Rana said, seemingly unfazed by the way he had shaken her off. "I believe it was Belle de Jour who said that in a world of children in bikinis and grandmothers in fuck-me boots, the surest way to tell a prostitute is to look for the designer suit."

She ran a hand over her hip, smoothing out imaginary creases. "So, what's this I've been hearing about Shadows vanishing over Cape Town? That must be keeping you up at night…"

"I sleep perfectly well, thank you Rana," Bastien said curtly, going back to watching the street.

"Oh good," the succubus said. "So they're not true then." She sounded cheerful, but her question was leading, and Bastien narrowed his eyes in calculation, his attention completely gone from watch duty.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Simple curiosity?" Rana said, sighing when the Shadowchaser snorted in disbelief. "Self preservation? Come on Bastien, I'm not stupid. I just want to know if I should be worried that I'm going to vanish any time soon."

The tight dismissal was on Bastien's lips before an idea sparked in his brain, and a smile crept across his face instead.

"Well, if you must know Rana…" resting his forearms on his D-Wheel, he leaned over so that he could look directly at her. "They are true."

One perfectly plucked eyebrow lifted. "Interesting. Have you managed to narrow it down at all? Species? Gender?...previous sexual partners?" she added with a smile at the corner of her lips.

"Haha," Bastien deadpanned. "No. No shared traits, other than the fact that they are all Shadowkind. And we have no idea why they are vanishing."

"Poor you," she ran a painted nail up his arm, and this time he let her.

"I think you might know one of them," he said lightly. "Sarrelle?"

The nail froze by the crook of his elbow, and she scoffed.

"I know him," she acknowledged, folding her arms and pulling the pencil dress tight over her breasts. "Good at what he does I suppose, but I don't really understand the appeal of his methods. Waste of energy if you ask me."

Bastien's eyes darkened - Sarrelle's methods, on top of his usual array of demonic powers of seduction, included date-rape drugs, stalking, and sometimes outright abducting his prey from the streets, if he felt like giving himself a challenge. He swallowed his disgust, and carried on.

"He vanished earlier today, along with two half-fiends." He gave a shrug. "Now it could be that they just got themselves killed and popped off back to the Abyss, but obviously that's not something I can check."

"So you want me to do it for you?" Rana surmised. Her dry tone was not encouraging.

"It's for your own good too, Rana," Bastien said. "You said it yourself - you might need to be worried. If they're not in the Abyss, then this thing has got them too. And now we'll know for sure that it can grab demons. As you said - self preservation."

She chewed on this for a moment, her lips pouting and pursuing with each thought that ran around her head. Bastien leaned into his bike, giving her the space she needed to contemplate his proposal.

"I don't do things for free, Bastien," Rana said, eventually. "And what you're asking might provoke unwanted questions, if I'm found to be looking in places I should not."

"What do you want in return?" Bastien asked. Rana smiled, suddenly pleased with herself.

"I think I'll leave you guessing on that," she said. "Very well. I'll have a look for our erstwhile acquaintance."

"Good," still unsure as to what exactly he might have agreed to, Bastien stood up straight again. "When are you heading back to the Abyss?"

"I should be heading back tonight, once I'm done with my flabby American summoner," she nodded. Bastien knew that must mean that she had collected more than enough souls to make a discerning demon lord very happy. "I can't guarantee when I'll next be back in town."

Her smile became enticing once more. "Want to send me off in style?"

"No thanks, Rana," Bastien gently lifted her hand off his arm again. "I'm working."

"Spoilsport," the succubus pouted, pushing herself off the bike. "Oh well. There's a saying about absence and growing fonder. Maybe next time."

She blew him a kiss. "Take care, babe." And she swanned off down Bree Street, with a wriggle in her hips.

It took Bastien about thirty seconds to realise that he should stop looking at her butt now. The Shadowchaser shivered as a timely breeze effectively banished the heat that had crept up under his skin.

"I haven't had sex in thirteen months," he muttered to himself. "I should get a medal for that."

OOO

"Told you you always forget something when you go on holiday."

"We found your hair straighteners - Terpy says they were down the back of the couch, but there are some very stylish looking unicorns in Primwell that say otherwise!"

"Actually this is something I forgot to leave behind. My card for calling Shadow Games is still in my deck box! Do you guys want me to post it back?"

"Heck no! That's far too dangerous! Fayte and Tsuki will be in London in three weeks for their vacation - Rayearth says you can give it back to them then."

"Thanks Kenshin. Miss you guys. xxx"

"Miss you too. Now do yourself a favor and sleep!"

Heaving a sigh which turned into a yawn, Becky rolled over, dragging the duvet with her. Her sleeping schedule was so badly fucked that it was not even funny. She was laying on the floor of Vi's room, in the shadow of her cousin's enormous bookcase. The futon was actually pretty comfortable, but after so many days of nonstop activity and movement, her brain was refusing to shut off.

She traced the bottom row of books with her finger, her nail clicking against the spines. Vi's taste in books was remarkably similar to Andi's, though her cousin was studying Civil Engineering, and her little sister favoured electronics and computers. Glancing over her shoulder at the double bed, she could see Andi on the nearest side, drooling into her short hair as she slept. While sleeping, she looked very like their mother, even though Becky knew that they both had their father's mind. For Andi, that meant putting things together. For Becky, that meant manipulating the world around her into something beautiful. Her fingers twitched. She needed to get hold of a camera or a paint brush soon, or she was going to go mad.

Restless, she silently lifted the covers away, and padded to the door, pulling a very large, black hoodie over her head. It was warm, comfortable, and bore the words "Press X To Not Die" in large letters, along with a big blue cross button. It had been a birthday gift from Kenshin, and in the spirit's usual habit of knowing bugger all about fashion, she had ordered it two sizes too big. Consequently it came down to Becky's thighs, and she had to roll the sleeves back in order to be able to open the door.

The spacious living room was empty, save for the ever watchful presence of the nine tarantulas. From the nearest bedroom, usually occupied by her grandmother, Becky could hear the telltale sounds of her father snoring. The door to Marina and Ruan's room was tightly closed. The sofa bed was empty, with blankets folded neatly at the end of it, which meant that Becky was not the only person awake. With a knowing smile, she crossed the room, passing the front door as she went, and turned into the kitchen.

Lihle was sat at the table, a large square tub of ice cream open before her, her spoon drawing large swirls in the chocolate. Framed against the moonlight, streaming in from the garden through the sliding doors, Becky could pick out the silver starting to streak through her hair, and she felt a surge of fondness for the older woman.

"Mum will pitch a fit if she sees you eating that," she greeted.

Lihle drew herself up imperiously, digging her spoon deeper into the ice cream tub. "My daughter has no say on what I do or eat in my own house, my girl."

Becky considered this for a moment, before nodding. "Fair enough."

Grabbing a spoon from the drawer, she sat down opposite, and dug it into the tub, watching it cut through the dairy with no small amount of childish glee. Her grandmother raised an eyebrow.

"What?" Becky shrugged. "You taught us all to share."

"Cheeky," came the admonishment, but there was a smile in there, and Becky stuffed the spoon into her mouth with a reciprocal grin. She moaned as the sugar hit.

"You have no idea how good it is to be able to eat chocolate again," she said.

"It's as bad as they say it is?" Lihle asked, tapping her own spoon impatiently against the tub. Becky obligingly relinquished it, while she thought of the best way to describe the taste.

"...if you mix badly ground chalk, with lard and a bit of sugar, you've got American chocolate," she declared. Pulling a face, her grandmother rose from the table.

"Better make this a feast then. I think there's some caramel sauce left."

"Oooh chopped nuts if we've got any!" Becky asked, abandoning the tub in favour of finding a bowl. "I'm craving something crunchy."

Three minutes later, they were sharing a sundae fit for a queen.

"The sofa isn't that uncomfortable, is it?" Becky asked, jabbing her spoon at the living room.

"It's perfectly fine," her grandmother assured her. "I just don't need half as much sleep as you young people. And the ladies and I are doing yoga every Tuesday - it's doing wonders for Rendi's back, and you'd be surprised how much more comfortable it makes sleeping."

She eyed her granddaughter shrewdly. "You should take up something like it when you get home - unknot those shoulders of yours."

With a wince, Becky massaged her neck. "Would be nice to stand in a gym studio instead of being thrown around it…"

"Training isn't meant to be easy. If it were, everyone would do it." Lihle stabbed the ball of ice cream with her spoon. "Nonetheless, take some time for yourself. There's enough stress in this house without you adding to it. Marina and the wedding. Ruan and these disappearances. Your mother...well, being herself."

Normally Becky would have chortled at the assessment, but her previous restlessness surged forwards at the mention of Ruan and the disappearances. It had been clawing at her mind all night like a little mouse trying to scratch its way out of her skull. Nothing Ruan had said was true, and she could not bear the thought of her family thinking it, even if they were ignorant of the fact she was a Shadowchaser…

A small, slender finger pressed her lips shut. Pouting around it, she frowned across the table. Lihle's expression seemed to stop her mind's frantic stumble towards the exit.

"No need to explain, dear." Her dark eyes were deep with understanding. Curiosity reared its head in place of defence.

"Really?" Lihle chortled and removed her hand.

"Didn't I used to tell you that grandmother's know everyone's secrets?" she licked the back of her spoon, a twinkle in her gaze. "I'm an old lady, Rebecca. Old people don't need to be told things. We just know. It's one of our many gifts."

Her smile was so knowing, so understanding, that Becky found her throat closing up. Just as they had earlier, fingers moved once more to stroke the mark on her face.

"My brave girl," pride was undisguised in her face and voice. The hand did not linger, slipping down to squeeze at hers, just as it had done earlier on the swing. "You're worried?"

She glanced at the table. "Upset more than worried."

"Oh sweetheart," Lihle patted her arm. "That's not worth worrying about. Are you happy?"

Swallowing hard, Becky nodded.

"Then why does it matter what Ruan thinks?" her grandmother asked. To her surprise, Becky found that no words were coming out of her mouth. "Why does it matter what any of us think? We have no right to tell you what you should and should not do with your life. So what if it involves secrets? Your job is not about secrets. It's about keeping others safe." She looked at her shrewdly. "And I'll bet that keeping others safe is exactly what makes you so happy about it, yes?"

The words were like a comforting blanket. In the last year and a half, ever since she had announced her career intentions, nobody had ever asked her if she was happy. They asked her if she was sure. If she knew what she was getting involved with. If it was real. If it was legal. If she was sure that there wasn't anything more she could tell them.

Her grandmother did not need any of that. She knew exactly what she was getting into. She knew that Becky's decision was informed. She trusted that her granddaughter was smart enough not to be tricked. And she knew that Becky was a good person who would never get involved in anything illegal. And most importantly, she seemed to know that there were some questions that she did not need to be discussed. There was only one thing that mattered to her.

She nodded again, and the uncomfortable knot in her throat seemed to vanish.

"Yes. I love it."

"Good," Lihle sat back, and pushed the bowl towards her granddaughter. "Now enough being maudlin. Eat up. Food makes everything better."

It took another few spoonfuls of ice cream before Becky felt the taste return to her. Her grandmother gave up eating and stretched a few times in her chair.

"Do tell me one thing," the older lady said, a fresh spark lighting her eyes. "Satisfy my curiosity...any handsome young men in your line of work?"

Becky rolled her eyes, feeling as though she were back on solid ground with such a normal question. "No Nana. I haven't had a boyfriend since sixth form. And I don't believe in dating my colleagues. Too much potential for awkwardness."

"Who said anything about these young men being for you?" Lihle asked indignantly. "I was talking about me! The only flirty wink I've had recently is from Supermarket Simon, and he's missing his teeth! I need something a little more virile! You had some young men around you in America? I remember you saying."

An exasperated smile decorated Becky's face. "Tsubasa is eighteen - there's virile, and then there's cradle snatching, Nana."

"Well what about the ones round our neck of the woods?" her grandmother was not budging. "The colleagues who have been taking care of your bike?"

Unintentionally, Becky's mind flitted over the grainy image of Thando on the screen of the D-Wheel, before conjuring up a picture of Bastien smiling at her from the arrivals lounge. Heat rushed to her cheeks, and she buried her face into her arms as her grandmother cackled.

"Oh excellent!" she forwent rubbing her hands together in favour of clearing up the empty ice cream bowl and spoons. "You can show me pictures tomorrow."

Groaning, Becky rested her head on the table. "Remind me to keep you away from the fizz at the wedding. I'm not sure Ruan's family can handle you on the pull."

"Oh please - from the interactions I've had with his uncle, they should be used to it! His mother is a high strung little madam though. She won't stop talking about what a wonderful man her son is, and how fortunate Marina is to have snagged him." She sniffed, unimpressed. "As if we couldn't possibly figure out ourselves that Ruan is a catch."

Drying her hands on the tea towel, she sat down again.

"So you like him?" Becky asked, curious. Her grandmother nodded.

"Before their fourth date, he arrived half an hour early at this house. He had two bunches of flowers - one for her, and one for me - and he was terribly nervous. He talked to me about my art. He told me a little about his family, and then about his job. And then he told me how he and Marina met."

Her gaze softened, taking years off her face, and Becky wondered, with a pang of sadness, if she were remembering her own experience of falling in love.

"He told me that he had enjoyed going to work each day because he had hoped he might see her on duty. He said that while he had been happy to close the case, and bring the family the closure they needed, he had been sad that he wouldn't have an excuse to see her again. And he knew he couldn't just let it pass. So he asked her out, and the scariest moment of his life, was that second where he thought that she might say no."

"But she didn't," Becky concluded. She had heard the basics of Ruan and Marina's story from Vi, but she did not know that Lihle had had a personal visit from the new beau.

"But she didn't," Lihle agreed. "And here we are. Ruan is a good man, Rebecca. You can trust me on this. But he is also a detective - he has to consider all angles in his investigation. Don't let what he says upset you. Remember - you are happy. That is all that matters."

How had her grandmother managed to teach her in ten minutes, what fourteen months of training had failed? She shook her head. She knew the answer to that. An outsider's opinion was the most valuable in the world sometimes.

"You're right," she nodded. "I won't let it get to me. I love my job. I'm sure Ruan probably does too. He just wants to do the best he can in it, and I respect that." Yawning, she rubbed her eyes. "No more fretting about work. I'm here to relax, explore the city, and my only job this week is to make sure Marina gets down the aisle without her clutter of spiders following her."

"Ohh that would upset Ruan's mother...let's do it!" Lihle exclaimed, her eyes sparkling. "You smuggle the tanks in ahead of the service, and I'll attach little leashes to them before I walk Marina up the aisle."

Spluttering as another yawn tried to interrupt her laughter, Becky got up from the table. "We'll plan disruptions tomorrow, Nana. I'm going to try sleeping again. Thanks for the pep talk."

"Any time, my girl. Any time."

OOO

It was nearing two AM, and Bastien was wondering if he should start thinking about calling it quits.

The air was chilly, and the clubs were shutting down for the night. Being Monday night, the number of serious party goers were a little thin on the ground, but Shadowkind were remaining fairly consistent. Bastien had nodded politely to two groups that he was familiar with, in the last hour alone. And still, there was no screaming. No random flares of magic. No sign at all of a sea witch anywhere.

He leaned forward against his bike, drawing in another deep, chilly breath. His brain felt like an overworked hamster, treading circles on its wheel, each question revolving in the same tired fashion. Why would someone want to cause Shadowkind to vanish? Did they have some kind of grudge? Or perhaps a more malevolent use for magical creatures? And if this witch was the one causing Shadowkind to vanish, why had she changed her routine with the Stone Cutters, breaking into their home and doing damage, instead of just abducting them? Dvagar had agreed to check in with Bastien three times a day, just in case something did happen to them, but finding that puddle so close to what had appeared to be an innocuous crime scene, had made him decidedly uncomfortable.

He shook his head. Finding a motive would be helpful, but they still had to find out what happened to the missing Shadowkind - perhaps most importantly, if they were dead or alive. In a way, he hoped that Rana would come back and tell him that today's three vanishers were just back in the Abyss. At least then they would know that the Shadowkind were not just vanishing - they were being murdered. As morbid as it was, at least that might help narrow it down.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts, that he did not notice the shadow creeping up through the archway behind him, clawed fingers pulling back, tension building in the arm for a painful strike.

He did smell it though.

Vaulting his bike with a single leap, he landed in the empty road, just as the fist collided with a crash of metal into his D-Wheel. The machine skidded with an agonising screech across the tarmac, coming to rest on the opposite pavement. Pulling his sword free, Bastien glared at the figure now framed in the archway, looking curiously between the Shadowchaser and the heavily scratched bike.

"Huh," he grunted, once his brain finally caught up to his action. "Heard me, didja?"

"No, I smelled you," Bastien corrected, mockingly. "Seriously Veno, take a bath. I'm sure it won't actually kill you."

He glanced around the street. Sure enough, he could see more figures emerging from the shadows. Some were crouched in doorways, while others slid from the darkness of the neighbouring buildings.

"Ah, the gang's all here," Bastien muttered, straightening his back and lowering his sword so that it came to rest at his side. "So where's your big brother, Veno? Or did you finally grow enough of a pair to leave the house without him?"

The half-fiend glared, making his unfortunate face look even more squashed than it already did. He flexed his claws angrily, and from his back, his stumpy looking wings seemed to bristle. "Fuck you."

"No thanks, you're not my type," Bastien replied. A quick scan of his surroundings tallied up seven thugs - all of them either half-fiends or tieflings. It also told him that he was completely surrounded. He cursed the hamster in his brain for distracting him, and raised his voice. "Come on Marko, I know you're there! Don't make me talk to your brother - his voice lowers the IQ of the entire city!"

A pair of clear, casual footsteps emerged from the other end of Strand Street, and Bastien turned to watch the newcomer. Where Veno's head looked as though it had spent several hours in a car compactor, Marko's was sharp, and wolfish to match the cunning of his mind. Bastien wasn't certain which devil they both called father, but the only thing he had contributed to his children was a set of small leathery wings, and an unrelenting taste for blood.

"Now that's a little bit cruel," the half-fiend said, his voice like that of a stern teacher, albeit one Bastien would never leave children alone with. "I mean he's standing right there."

Bastien's grip on his sword became just a little bit tighter, as the head thug reached the ring of muscle that now boxed him in. "Like Veno needs me to be rude to have an excuse for beating me up."

"True," Marko nodded. "You do that perfectly well just by breathing, Shadowchaser." He turned his body this way and that, eyeing up the protective barrier formed by his men, before returning his attention to his captive. "I heard an interesting little story today. Something about Sarrelle and two of his friends going missing at a school down in the Crossroads. Didn't think too much of it, until I heard rumours that your skinny boyfriend was down there checking the place out. Makes me wonder if there isn't something more to that little story."

Internally, Bastien cursed - how fast was the news travelling around this city? On the outside, he drew himself up a little more and gave Marko his most condescending look.

"If I did know anything about that disappearance, why the hell would I share it with you?" he asked.

"Rude," Marko shook his head. "Does your wife hear you talk like this? Oooh!" he recoiled dramatically, a sneer tickling his lips. "I am so sorry. Me and my big mouth!"

Anger coiled up through Bastien's gut, as the goons around him began to snigger. "Don't push me, Marko."

"Oh I know," the half-fiend's eyes were narrowed in glee. "Must have been terribly sad for you." He glanced to his nearest henchmen, a small impish looking cambion who did not look old enough to be out of school, and slung one arm over his neck in a chummy fashion. "Our friendly neighbourhood Shadowchaser here used to be married," he said in a stage whisper. "Love, commitment and all that sweet stuff. Then one morning his wife's truck went over the edge of Victoria Road, and straight down into the sea..."

His fist mimed the vehicle soaring down into water with a splash while his mouth provided the sound effects, and the cambion giggled softly. Clenched by his sides, Bastien felt his own fists tremble.

"Official reports say that there was debris on the road and her tires were shiiiiit," Marko continued his explanation with a cheerful false sympathy. "Written off as an accident. But I heard little rumours that suggested otherwise. Have to say, I wouldn't blame her in the least. I mean, what's a sweet little Clueless to think when her husband keeps secrets from her?"

Rage boiled over in a flood, and Bastien rushed the half-fiend, his mind already plunging his sword down the other man's filthy gullet, Treaty be damned. Thick hands grasped him and he let out a yell of frustration, as he struggled against Veno's gorilla-like embrace.

"Oh I think I upset him," Marko said, with a mocking pout. "Have a hug Bastien - that'll make you feel miles better!"

"Go to hell!" the Shadowchaser snarled, pushing with all his might against the arms that bound him. Up close, Veno smelt even worse.

"Been there, done that," the half-fiend clapped the smaller cambion on the back and paced a few meters away. "Business is so much more lucrative up here. And more fun." He paused suddenly, and snapped his fingers. "Ah, business! Knew there was a reason I wanted to talk to you!"

He leaned casually against one of the pillars, before nodding sharply at Veno. The hulking monster of a man released him, and Bastien felt his bruised ribs flare as he took a grateful gulp of stench-free air.

"Here's the deal Bastien," Marko's voice was brisk and sharp - the playfulness of earlier had evaporated completely. "Borris here-" he jerked his head to the small cambion. "-is a newcomer to our little circle of friends. I want to see what he's made of."

"Great," Bastien grunted, repressing the urge to laugh at such a stupid name. "Is he going to break my kneecaps or my balls first?"

"Neither," Marko assured him. "He's going to duel you. Think of it as an initiation, if you will - bit like you and that mark on your face."

"This," Bastien jabbed a finger at his cheek, his glare going past Marko and fixing on Borris. "Is a badge of honour! You think you'll find that hanging around with these guys, kid? They're scum, and everyone knows it!"

Borris shrugged, apparently unconcerned. "If I was looking for honour, I'd have joined a church. We going to do this, or what?"

With a growl, Bastien turned toward the opposite pavement. "I'll need my-"

He staggered as one of the fiends wrenched his duel disk roughly from his capsized bike, and flung it straight at his ribs.

"Thank you," he said, trying not to wheeze. "So what happens if I win? Do I make an unfortunate trip into False Bay?"

Marko snorted, lounging lazily up against the pillar, with one ankle crossed over the other. "Unlike you Shadowchasers, I consider markings on my face to be more trouble than they are worth. And don't assume that you'll win - Borris claims to be very good."

Not as good as me, Bastien thought to himself, clipping his disk into place and flicking it on. Across the circle of flunkies, Borris was doing the same thing.

Life Points

Bastien: 8000

Borris: 8000

"I'll start us of by summoning Horus The Black Flame Dragon LV4!" Black flames erupted in front of him, resolving into a horse-sized gleaming metal dragon. (1600/1000)

"Then I'll set two cards face-down and call it turn." Borris sneered as the cards materialized behind his dragon. "Come and get me, Shadowchaser!"

Bastien drew for his turn. "Not really my style." Shards of light flew into view in front of him and transformed into four brown-backed cards. "I set this monster and three cards face-down as well. Turn end."

"Running scared already?" Borris drew and held up another card. "Level Up does what its name says and gives Horus an upgrade to his LV6 form!" More flames spiraled around the dragon, seeping into its body. The body grew heavier, bulkier, more jagged until it was the size of a car. "Waste his monster with Black FLames LV6!" (2300/1600)

Bastien shielded his face from the heat as the blast of fire incinerated his set monster and one of his set cards flipped up in response. "Since my monster had a high defense stat, Broken Blocker summons two more of it in defense mode."

Two red turles appeared in front of him, larger than he was and their shells actually grinning red jars. "Jar Turtles, to be precise." (100/2100)

"Kinda look like the Pot of Greed…"

"Jar of Greed, Borris. Jar of Greed. Like my trap card." The card flipped up and Bastien reached for his deck. "With each of them in play, I can draw one extra card for a total of three."

A second Jar of Greed flipped up. "With two, total of six cards. Still keeping up, Borris?"

"I can do math, but you don't get the rules!" Borris signaled to end his turn and Horus erupted into more flames, sending shadows flickering down the nearby streets. With a deepening roar, the dragon surged in size to a bus. "At LV8, Horus can negate any of your spell cards! So whatever draw power you want isn't going to help you!"

"Uh-huh. Sure." Bastien was not impressed, but several of the gang appeared to be. Even Marko had dropped the poker face to give an approving nod. The Shadowchaser drew for his turn, giving him a total of nine cards. "I sacrifice both of my monsters to summon Golden Muka Muka." The two turtles faded away, replaced by a man-sized crab composed completely of golden. Light sparkled off the precious stones and engravings embedded over its body and it snapped ivory pincers eagerly. (2000/2000)

"Your monster's pretty, but my dragon will melt it into a puddle!" Borris jeered, Horus screeching in agreement.

"Now you're the one who doesn't get the rules." Bastien held up his hand of eight cards. "My monster gets six hundred attack points for every card I have." The golden crab glowed, tripling in size in the space of a few breaths until it dwarfed even Horus. (2000/200 - 6800/2000)

"Oh…." Borris' curse was was cut short as the crab scuttled forwards and sheared off Horus' head with a sharp pincer snap and an ugly squelching sound. Black blood gouted from the headless body until both it and its head mercifully shattered.

Life Points

Bastien: 8000

Borris: 4200

"In case you were wondering why your set cards didn't activate, its because Golden Muka Muka prevents you from chaining if I have more than six cars in my hand. Speaking of which, I set one of those cards face-down and discard the remaining one because it's the end of my turn." Bastien did so. "Your move, Borris." (6800/2000 - 5200/2000)

"And I'm going to stuff that crab so far up your ass, you'll be spitting rubies!" Borris swore and snapped up his card.

"Yeah, I don't fancy that," unfazed, Bastien activated his set card. "I activate Ring of Destruction."

A black metal ring appeared around the crab's pincer, ringed with grenades. "Now we both take damage equal to its attack points."

The explosion rocked the alleyway, shards of Golden Muka Muka scattering everywhere and causing the spectators to reflexively shield their faces. Bastien did the same, even as the smoke filled the space. But he still heard the distinctive 'ding!' of a duelist's life points hitting zero.

Life Points

Bastien: 3800

Borris: 0

The smoke cleared, to reveal Borris laying in a crumpled, twitching heap on the ground. Feeling more than a little smug, Bastien switched his duel disk off.

"Guess you're not made of much, are you?" he asked, frowning as he saw Veno and the others closing in on his opponent. "Hey!"

He did not know why he was surprised. As he began to sprint across the field, four of the gang were already pouncing on Borris, two hoisting him up by his arms and another seizing him around the shoulders, while the fourth one began to rain blows down on his stomach. As the street began to fill with cries of pain, Bastien turned out of his run to block a strike from the left. Before he could go for his sword however, a heavy fist hit him in the back of the shoulder and sent him stumbling forwards into the first attacker. Another blow hit him in the stomach, followed by the back of the knees, leaving him gasping for air on the ground. All the while, Borris continued to scream.

"Hold him still," Marko was walking, and Bastien hissed in pain as two pairs of clawed arms seized his shoulders and hauled him up. "Not him, you idiots!"

"Oh, sorry boss."

They dropped him heavily, leaving his nose to collide with the tarmac with a painful crack. Bastien's head was reeling, and as he tried to focus through it, he vaguely saw Veno. The monstrous demon had grabbed hold of Borris's wings, and was yanking them sharply upward to keep him from escaping. Still held by both arms, the cambion struggled like a landed fish, as the other men backed away and Marko approached, flexing his fingers like he was limbering up to paint.

"Marko…" Borris's word was slurred, as blood dribbled out from between his lips. The sharp face held none of the chumminess that it had earlier.

"Only my friends call me that."

With a contemplative eye, Marko dug one clawed fingernail into Borris's chest, and began to tug, the flesh yielding with a sickening noise to the razor sharp digit. Borris screamed as layer by layer the claw was dug deeper and deeper. Paralyzed to the ground by his aching limbs, Bastien could only watch as the ribs were forced apart with a thumb and forefinger, finally giving way with two sharp cracks. Probing fingers swirled around the fresh cavity, before grasping hold of their treasure, and pulling it free with a fresh squelch. Blood was running down Marko's hand, and the heart clasped in his claws gave a few feeble final beats, as though trying to struggle free. Borris gave one last gurgling shriek, before he fell limp into Veno's grasp. The three henchmen tossed him to the ground in disgust.

Admiring his handiwork, Marko tossed the beating muscle to one side, before fishing in his pocket for a handkerchief, and starting to clean his hands.

Bastien could taste blood in his mouth, and he fought the urge to throw up. Shakily, he tried to rise, but one of his attackers kicked him hard in the ribs. He crashed back into the tarmac, as the attention turned back to him.

"Want to leave him out for the crows too, bro?" Veno asked maliciously. Catching his breath, Bastien groaned and rolled onto his side. The road was blurring in and out of focus in a sickening fashion.

"...nah, I'm bored now," he could picture Marko shrugging. "And my face is too handsome for imprints. Let's get out of here."

Bastien had just enough time to see the half-fiend's foot swing, before pain exploded across his head, and blackness overtook him.

When he came to, the thumping from the nearby clubs had gone, and the city was completely silent. The blood from his nose had crusted over his mouth and chin unpleasantly, and his ribs, stomach and shoulder were pounding like someone was whacking them repeatedly with a sledgehammer.

Growling, Bastien rolled onto his uninjured side, and pushed himself onto all fours. Marko and his gang were gone as was Borris's body. The heart lay abandoned not far away, the only evidence of what had transpired.

"When I'm feeling less like shit," the threat rumbled from Bastien's mouth, and he tasted blood again. "You're going straight to the darkest cell in Shadowchasers HQ, Marko…"

Wincing, he staggered to his bike. Fortunately the damage was only cosmetic, and she started just fine. He held himself steady for a moment, fantasising all the ways he was going to make Marko pay, before a strange feeling in his back pocket revealed the final insult of the evening.

"Fuck!" Bastien snarled, as he realised that they had taken his wallet.


A/N: Thank you for reading guys! And special thanks to those of you who take five minutes to review - gives me all of the happys!

Next time I post, I will be a married woman! FYI, 7th Librarian and I will accept reviews as wedding gifts - this information comes a bit too late to Occam's Razor, who has already bought us a teppenyaki grill. You rock so hard, dude!