Through Smudged Glass

By angelwings1


Chapter 7
..

Day Seventy-eight without a hangover might as well have been swamped under twenty kegs. He could have at least blamed his bad attitude over disagreeable liquor. No, instead he was forced to drown his hell of a morning in two cans of carbonated orange soda. His eyebrow annoyingly twitched as he downed the second drink and examined the empty bedroom.

He still couldn't figure out how she had slipped out of the apartment without awakening him. He was naturally a light sleeper, even though he appeared dead as stone. Years of hitchhiking and sleeping on doorsteps had forced him to keep both ears open in his dreams. So, it was a complete shock to his un-drunk system when he saw her empty closet and missing dog dish. The only sign that she had left freely was the white notecard and wad of bills left on her bare mattress. He had scoffed at the farewell she had hastily written in blue: 'Goodbye again. I'm sorry.'

Crunching the can in his fist, he growled. He had gotten too comfortable in the apartment. Stupid bitch had made him soft. Checking through the dirty pane of her window, he saw the rusty fire escape. The bottom ladder was down. 'Must have left this way.'

Rolling his eyes, he grumbled a curse and returned to the kitchen. He really needed a beer. Glaring at the starved refrigerator, he debated over the half leftover sub or a bruised apple. He quickly grabbed the sandwich and hopped onto the counter. Tearing into his breakfast, Mugen began to calculate the distance she could have made.

'If she went on foot, then she's an even bigger idiot than I thought. There's too much wannabe trash in this neighborhood for her to get out easily. She must have taken the late night bus.' Her Honda had been abandoned a long time ago after the Shogunate had ruined it with their guns. In this type of neighborhood, the car had easily disappeared into someone else's garage.

'She's probably aiming for the interstate to grab a ride and gain some fast distance.'

Smacking loudly on the last bite of his breakfast, Mugen debated what to do. In all fairness, she had told him at the beginning he was a free man. She hadn't expected him to stay with her and in the last months, she hadn't asked for him to protect her. He had taken the job regardless. Checking the dollar bills, he realized he had enough to keep the apartment for half a year if needed. Maybe she thought by then he would have found a job to pay the monthly rent.

'Like Hell. I'm hitting the bars.' The thought was surprisingly only half-eager. His eyes were scanning the empty living room. A shadowy church slipped into his head and his limbs became fidgety. Without a word, he shoved the bills into his back pocket and collected a few magazines. Strapping on his holster over his shoulders and throwing on his battered leather jacket, the ex-gangster stormed out the door, intent and determined.


..

With his cigarette hanging from his lips, he slipped into the phone booth, ignoring the need to close the door. Grabbing the phonebook attached by a chain link to the massive machine, Mugen rapidly turned to the business section.

His eyes stumbled over the words several times, his limited reading proving irritably slow in his haste. He was lucky he had opened the thick book close to the needed page or he might have been standing in the booth to close to an hour. Smirking, he recklessly tore out the needed section and pocketed the tattered paper. Mugen tossed the phonebook and exited, only freezing after two long strides. A random thought crossed his mind.

It was a slim chance and he was tempted to leave it as impossible, but if he was right, it would make everything interesting. Whirling back into the booth, he retrieved the yellow book swinging from its chain. He had barely brought the small print to his eyes again when he heard the clap of feet behind him. "Move it, bro."

Mugen glanced over his shoulder, his eyebrows pinched in the usual 'shove off' expression. Behind him was standing the everyday Blood, red bandana tied at the forehead, hefty jeans with dark boxers exposed, hundred dollar sneakers, and the look that was meant to intimidate. Saying nothing, Mugen returned to his reading. He counted the seconds for the expected outburst. "I'll pretend you didn't hear me. Get your ass out!"

Since he had left his neighborhood, Mugen had fallen into two reactions when dealing with gangsters, especially the young and inexperienced members. (1) Ignore them and then (2) scare the shit out of them.

With a smooth, quick motion Mugen whipped out his gun and pointed it at the teenager's forehead. When the boy went for the gun tucked stupidly in his slipping waistband, Mugen immediately grabbed his wrist and twisted. The no name was down on his knees in a single blink, yelling out curses. "Aw, come on man! I was just f— kidding!"

"Shut the hell up!" Mugen rolled his eyes. "I'm not in the mood to deal with your shit!"

Pressing the gun harder against his head, the ex-gangster yanked the man's gun out and frowned. "This is a f— toy!"

The boy froze with eyes wide and fearful. "I'm still new. Won't let me have one of theirs until I do a few things."

Mugen's eyebrow rose. It wasn't normal for gangs to hold back guns. The usual move of leaders was to hand them off with ease, pulling boys into the dark sinful pits that would trap them forever. "You're shitting me."

"No, man!" He cried frantically when the gun pressed harder. "My bro' da leader. Doesn't think I'll hold up pass two weeks once 'da cops make their rounds. Says I'm too stupid to save my own d— let alone keep the blues from getting a hold of a gun."

Mugen was tempted to shoot regardless of the fact the gang lord's brother was at the end of his gun. It would definitely take off some of the tension he was feeling. The thing that saved the boy—and probably the ex-gangster—was the shiny black object clipped to his belt. Smirking, Mugen leaned over, gun still pressed and ready, and lifted the Razor cell phone. The boy shifted forward when he realized what was happening, but a steady shove with the gun quickly stopped him. Mugen grinned wickedly, "Tell you what. I'll keep this as payment for pissing me off. Next time, don't be so rude to a Ryu-kuuian."

The boy fell in a disorganized heap when he was shoved to the concrete. He stared up at the man with confusion. "Ryu-kuuian?"

Mugen scowled at the stupidity of the wannabe gangster. He surely wouldn't last long if hadn't heard of the mob from his neighborhood. He knew the gang's history circulated far out past this city, even if it was rare to run across a member. The boy's brother was right to keep a real gun out of his hand. Shooting off a round to hurry the kid's exit, Mugen watched with delicious pride as the boy nearly tripped over his falling jeans.

Giving a quick check for any other disruptions, Mugen returned to the phone book. Minutes later after searching the list of private lines, he saved a phone number he had never seen into his new cell. When the screen requested a 'name' to attach to the number, he decided to not waste time using the long title he had looked up, and instead settled for a three letter word: Jin.


..

Two buses and several bills later, Mugen strolled down a busy uptown street. Matching a street sign with the address stolen from the phonebook, the ex-gangster turned a corner and followed the numbers. Ten minutes later, he had found his destination: The Iron Ring.

His moment of triumphant immediately turned sour when he noticed the 'Sorry. We're Closed!' sign hanging in the top of the glass door. His eyes darted down to the posted hours, frustrated he had crossed a late lunch hour for the boxing ring. His brow pinched tighter when he realized the closed sign conflicted with the open hours. Shrugging, he grabbed the silver handle and tugged. It didn't budge.

Huffing, he scanned for other openings. All the first floor windows were sealed shut with obvious alarm systems built into the panes. The second row were double panned with no apparent bars or alarms, but no visible way to reach them. Looking in either direction of the busy sidewalk, he caught sight of slim alleyway leading probably to a side or back entrance. When he searched further, his suspicions were confirmed with a dead end alley with a back door and line of trash bins. Ambling towards his entrance, Mugen's dark eyes trailed over the black Harley Davison standing next to the short steps. His smile became greedy, thoughts lingering on how to steal the bike afterwards.

Getting closer to the door, the ex-gangster picked up a discarded brick from the edge of wall and tossed it playfully up and down as he approached. The window was only a foot-and-half wide, but it would give enough to get any lock open. From the looks of the key hold there were at least two deadbolts. His feet slowed when he saw the way the bolts were protruding oddly. They appeared to have been pulled out of alignment to where the lock wouldn't work properly. Checking the handle, he discovered the door opened soundless without any resistance, making him tossed the brick carelessly back into the alley.

The room was surprisingly dark for midday. He could barely distinguish what type of room he had entered. His hand fumbled for the light switch, but hesitated to flip on the needed overhead when he thought about the locks. Either someone had already left or they were still here. Silently pulling out his gun, he waited for his eyes to adjust.

He was standing in a storage room. Random equipment was bundles up on metal shelves and hanging from a line of pegs in hooks on empty spaces of wall. Finding nothing of interest, he passed through the archway at the other end of the room and into a lengthy hall. Most of the doors lining the small corridor appeared abandoned. The main double doors he guessed led to the front room where the boxing ring laid, but he guessed no one would be in plain view of the pedestrians passing on the sidewalk. Carefully he treaded the hallway, searching for some sign of life. When he got to the third door, he had begun to believe that the intruders were gone. His gun began to lower. It jumped up three times faster than normal when he a muffled groan.

He waited tensely, the muzzle of his gun shifting between a pair of doors. He needed another noise to tell him which door. Hardly patient and overly confident, he kicked in the nearest one. As soon as he rushed in, he could vaguely see a form fumbling in the darkness. "Stop or I shoot something off!"

His bark got the action he wanted, and keeping his gun leveled with one hand, he reached blindly for the light switch. Finding the evasive object, he was blinded by the light flooding the room. Blinking several times, his eyes refocused and he was surprised to see a modest office completely in shambles with a familiar figure lying in the remains. His eyebrows lifted when he saw multiple bruises and blood pumping from a broken nose. "Zuikou?"

Looking through the tight lids of a swollen eye, the boxer began to relax. "Mugen? You're Mugen, right?"

Gun lowered, the ex-gangster knelt by the man. "What happened? You get robbed, old man?"

"I wish!" He moaned, slumping back on the floor. "Do you think dumb robbers could put out a ten year champion?"

Mugen's scowl returned. "Shogun?"

The boxer nodded. "I don't know how they found me. Two years and they suddenly closed in on my scent."

"Well you were close to her father." He scolded roughly. "It shouldn't have taken this long for them to realize she might contact you."

"No, no!" he cried, lifting his head slightly off the floor. "You don't understand. They've known about me for years. They've been keeping careful watch on me, but have been slowly lifting the eyes on me because of the lack of activity. Fuu and I have been very careful. I'm guessing there was an informant recently."

"What happened?" Mugen repeated, grumpily.

Zuikou slowly pulled himself off the floor, "What do you think? They wanted to know where Fuu was."

The boxer grunted in distress when the ex-gangster painfully yanked him closer by the cuff of his polo's collar. Mugen glared furiously into the man's startled eyes. "You bastard!"

"Huh?"

"You f— told them!" he shouted, spit flying. The boxer's eyes widened as the ex-gangster wound his fist tighter into the man's shirt. "You'd be dead if you hadn't!"

"They threatened my family!" the boxer shouted back. "I've got two kids and a wife! Fuu made me swear if they were ever threatened to make sure I gave the Shogun whatever they wanted!"

"F— coward!" He shoved the man to the floor, his teeth grinding together when the man moaned on impact. When the safety clicked off, the boxer froze. Mugen seethed as his finger twitched on the trigger. "Normally, I wouldn't think twice about shooting. Family or not you turned her in. Are you stupid enough to believe she has a chance escaping now!"

"You think I didn't try to throw them off?" he shouted back, growing furious with the accusation. "Fuu is like a daughter to me. I gave them fake addresses, wrong directions, anything! After each one turned up empty, they beat me and finally threatened my home. They put my daughter on the phone for God's Sake! I couldn't hold out after that!"

"Where is she?" Mugen hissed lowly, his body shaking. He had never believed he could restrain himself as he glared at the battered man. His life was still on a thread; his only salvation was the constant image of the girl's disappointed face. She would never forgive him if he killed her friend.

Zuikou sighed wearily, confident the man wouldn't shoot him. "She went to safe house on the next town over, Franklin. She should have gotten there hours ago. The address is 915 Agnes Dalbor Road. It's four hours away."

"How long ago did they leave?" Mugen snapped.

"An hour at least." He replied dryly. "I'm not sure. I blacked out."

"Give me the keys to your bike!"

"What?"

"It will take too long, otherwise!" he yelled heatedly, gun shaking in emphasis. "You want to say your family was threatened that's why you gave her up? Fine! Give me your f— bike!"

Shadows filled the boxer's eyes and he nodded stiffly. "There in the top desk drawer."

Pulling the drawer out of the desk completely, Mugen tossed the contents onto the floor in front of the man. Without command, the boxer shuffled through the pile and grabbed his yellow key ring. Catching the keys in the air, Mugen lowered his gun and gave the man a final disapproving look. "You're lucky you know her."

Zuikou anxiously watched the man race out of the room, a single prayer repeating throughout his throbbing skull for the young woman. "I know."


..

The three and half hour ride was like flying through a hurricane. He had considered staying around the speed limit to keep the cops from slowing him down, but guessed his lack of helmet would still get him pulled over in this state so he gunned the engine and road as if the ground was collapsing beneath the tires.

Maybe God was watching over him that, if there was a God. He never saw a cop, shaved nearly an hour off the distance, good weather, and the tank was thankfully full. Either way, he wouldn't be thanking anyone today.

Tugging on the handles, he pulled the bike onto a gravel road. The green and white sign at the head of the road pronounced the near end to his long journey. There pressed between the halo of a dozen trees stood a waiting shack in the golden sunset. It was ghostly haunting of random memories from their old journey. Sliding to a dusty halt, the ex-gangster parked and rushed the olive green door. He didn't stop to knock.

He flung the door open and burst into the house. It was a lot like the apartment back in the city, bare. There was a ragged ugly purple couch in the living room and no table or frig in the kitchen. A bright red ice box sat oddly out place in the dusty room. The flowery curtains were closed allowing only the slimmest rays into the house. Dust danced in the sunlight. Stepping further inside the living room, he saw her navy backpack against the ashy fireplace.

A small cough immediately snapped him to the left, making him face a closet he had noticed before. With a short twist of the handle, he opened the door and stared down at a pair of wide eyes. Momo barked excitedly on sight of his master's friend and pressed his paws against the man's legs with a doggy smile. Mugen frowned. Fuu would never put Momo in the closet, even if the mutt was terribly annoying.

"Where is she, mutt?" Sensing the man's fury, Momo's quickly lowered and whined. He swore under his breath. "Useless! You need to learn from Lassie!"

Giving up on the dog, the man turned. Somehow, his eyes instinctively lowered and he found the dark spot on the floor. In the dim light, it was difficult to tell how old the blood was. Kneeling for closer inspection, the ex-gangster pressed two fingers against the mark. It was cold to the touch and left only a faint blush on his fingertips. His jaw tightened. They had an hour on him. Worse, he couldn't be sure where they were going. He could try going back and checking the storage facility the Shogun had been staying in, but if they went somewhere else, he would loose valuable time. Fuu could be dead by time he checked the storage room, if she wasn't dead already.

Flipping open his cell, he began digging through the list of names. Pressing the green button, he waited for someone to pick up. On the third ring, a cheery voice greeted him.

"Is this the Kakekomi-dera Convent?" Mugen rumbled. While he heard an affirmative exclamation, his eyes fell on the dark cap hiding behind the edge of the couch, escaping his previous search. Quietly picking it up by the bill, he pressed his index finger through the bullet hole. "Yes. Is there a woman by the name of Shino there?"