AmyNChan: Woot! Another chapter is up~! *^_^*

Train: Any notes to make?

AmyNChan: Hmmm... not really. XD

Train: Ah, okay. Well, Amy-chan doesn't own Black Cat!

AmyNChan: Nope, nope~! *^_^*

"You're doing really well, Miss Minatsuki," the physician noted. Saya winced as he extended her arm once more, but knew he was only doing it to help with the healing process. Still, it sort of hurt. "It's really very incredible that the bullet didn't hit anything that would set you in the sling longer than this…"

"I guess I'm pretty lucky then, huh?" Saya said, smiling despite the discomfort in her arm. "So does this mean I can start with heavy lifting and getting back to my hobbies again?"

"As long as you don't go out and start lifting elephants," the man joked. While amused, the girl wanted a straight answer. "You should probably build up your endurance little by little. You said you've been working at a restaurant?"

"As a waitress. I've been allowed to start taking food orders to customers over the past couple of weeks," Saya informed him, ignoring the underlying question. The doctor made no motion to return to the topic of how she had gotten shot in the first place. Along with the very peculiar foot injury she had sustained. Somehow, he had gotten enough tact to quit asking after the second visit when she had admitting to shooting for a hobby and given him a firm whack upon the head. "Sometimes the orders go up to about five or even eight pounds."

"What are those people eating?" he asked as he scribbled upon his clipboard. Saya shrugged. All she knew was that she could now hold five pounds no problem.

For a short time, at least.

"If you're careful with how you push yourself, then yes, you can start lifting heavy things and do light exercise again," the doctor relented. Saya cheered, accidentally extending her arm a little too fast for her discomfort to allow.

"Ow…"

"I don't think I need to remind you to pace yourself?"

"No, sir…"

"Good," the doctor said as he finished writing his recommendation on a slip of paper. "As for your other question, my personal advice is for you to wait a bit longer."

"And your professional opinion…?" Saya asked, prodding for a medicinal answer. Don't get her wrong, she was grateful for the man's concern but she wanted to move on with her life as swiftly as possible. She held her breath for a short while as she waited for his retort. After a resigned sigh, he finally gave her the answer she wanted.

"Due to the fact that rifles have lesser amounts of recoil than many pistols, you may start shooting them for very brief periods of time. No longer than an hour at a time, understood?"

"Yaa—ow!"

The man of medicine looked wearily at his charge. "I'm not sure if you know what 'pacing yourself' is…"

"I'll be fine," Saya said, carefully maneuvering her healing arm back to her side. She would have to stretch it gradually and go back to the shooting range. She had gone yesterday and the police had refused to let her shoot without some sort of doctor's note.

Oh, how good it would feel to be able to hold a gun after three months…

"As for your foot, it got a bit of an infection while you were doing whatever it is you were doing and it's healing a bit more slowly than your arm," the doctor informed her as he took the sling away. "My professional and medical opinion is to keep the crutch on for a while, not to mess with the boot, and come see me before you start trying to put all of your weight on it. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," she said, feeling slightly deflated. With the good news there almost always came the bad. The doctor seemed to notice her abrupt change in manner and shot her a smile.

"Don't worry, with how well you've been healing I'm sure you'll be rid of the crutch in about a month or so."

"I sure hope so," Saya smiled.


"The trouble, gentleman, is that you have refused to delegate this power to others, believing that only yourselves are required to redeem the power of Tao for the rest of the world to behold."

"Are you doubting our abilities?!"

"Not at all, Maro. I simply mean that it seems Tao can manifest itself differently with various people and bring about radically different aspects in each. Such powers—when brought together and cooperative—could build a team which would be more than capable of turning this world. Capable of defeating Chronos."

"You must ponder these choices carefully, Creed. Were this elixir to fall into the wrong hands—"

"Our goal would be sabotaged before its first mission is undertaken, I understand. I would not betray your secrets or your trust lightly, Shiki."

"So, what do you wanna do? Build a super-team? Where would we even start?"

"I propose a test. There is a certain type of individual who could be quite useful to our cause. However, this theory should be tested on a weaker specimen in order to evaluate the sort of reaction we can come to expect from future 'team members'. No need to waste potential candidates, after all."

A moment of silence. Words spoken with care absorbed with curiosity.

"Is there a specimen you have in mind already?"


Train was perched on a cliff that overlooked the valley—and, by association, Goat Town—below. His sharp eyes quickly found the green haired stranger walking across the desolate wasteland. His target? Obviously the abandoned building that was merely a few yards away. It was a large building containing—if the outside were anything to judge it by—an open space within. Of course, Train had chosen a spot with perfect access to a window so he could see this vast space within, albeit terribly. While the inside was not lit very well, he was sure he would be able to pick up a thing or two from the fight.

"I wonder how he's gonna deal with A class danger…" the learning sweeper mused aloud. He watched as the man readied his gun and entered the building.

"Stealthy… maybe an ex-cop?" he asked himself. He waited for about a minute when he saw something rather odd. Smoke pouring out of the building's only orifice and clouding his view of the inside. The action happened too quickly for any normal battle to have taken place and the brown haired sweeper was sure that the white suited man would have a hard fight with someone who screamed so much trouble.

As precious seconds ticked by, he saw no one leave the building. Not an escaping con. Not a sweeper with strange green hair. Not even a mouse.

"They're waiting for the gang to leave…which is not going to happen. So it's up to me."

"Knowing those guys are out there…I have to do something."

"Huh… I guess even good guys need rescuing," Train stated as he popped to his feet. Walking into the building with no plan seemed like a bad idea, so he decided to go with the next best thing.

His bike was revved up and ready to go in only a few seconds. The sleek beauty took just as long to speed straight off the cliff and into the nearby window at its master's command. The sound of glass crashing all around him drew the attention of everybody in the building just long enough for him to skid to a very impressive stop.

It was absolutely awesome.

"Gah!"

"Who is that guy?"

He had everybody's attention. Might as well make the show worth it. He smirked before revving his bike into full speed.

His first two shots were fired before the gang realized what exactly had hit them. They were scrambling to make a counter attack—a very clumsily made counter attack—by the time his third and fourth shots had fired off. A few guns had begun to fire back when he had shot his sixth round. Train whipped the bike around as he loaded his gun once more. The criminals were shooting in earnest, yelling loudly as if to assert dominance or try to intimidate him.

Neither worked, in any event. Had he mentioned he was having fun by this point?

A figure turned sharply in the dust, the action quick enough to make a visible path through the dirty air. He had a black hat and an equally inky coat draped around his figure. He had feral eyes and a long, pointed face. Equipped on his left hand was a small gun pointed in Train's direction, taking shots at him. And while Train was a rapid menace on his bike, some of those shots hit their mark all too well.

A fierce explosion rocked the entire building to its very foundation. The man in black—presumably Parodem—lifted his hands in celebration and released a whoop of pure ecstasy.

"Fireworks, boys!" he crowed to what little remained of his standing team. The smoke from the smoldering mess of bike rose towards the ceiling, but no one paid heed to such a detail save for Parodem. That pillar of smoke represented two more bodies added to the growing tally of sweepers dead by his hand.

Or so he thought.

"Incoming!" Train chimed from his position in the air. His hand was a tad singed and his clothes now had a bit of soot on them, but that was perfectly fine. His aim was true and he could pull a trigger.

And that was all he needed to deliver a touch of bad luck.

An hour or so later found Train at the same cliff edge he had begun at, this time without his trusted bike to keep him company. In its place was the green haired sweeper who had somehow made it through the entire ordeal with only a bruise. Talk about lucky.

"I can't believe it," he said. His tone was not the obviously incredulous type, but rather the quietly awed sort. "The assassin called the Black Cat is still alive... and he wrapped it up without a single kill. Why...?"

"Well," Train said, already knowing what the man was about to ask and willing to head it off right there. "It's not like I enjoy killing. That's not what I'm about."

Train watched as the valley below scurried with police from a nearby town, all of them busy in the face of cleaning up the huge mess he had left behind. All of the criminals were now on gurneys, groaning of pain or cussing the memory of the greenhorn sweeper who had taken them out.

At least they're alive to cuss about it... Train thought as he watched them all. The adrenaline was wearing off, but for once, the feeling of peace remained. It was a good feeling to not feel the return of his worries.

"Your bike is trashed," the man pointed out. "You can ride with me."

"Thanks."

Train followed the well dressed man out to a small car and hopped in. They took a detour to the police station before heading out of town.

"Here. Your share of the bounty," he said, passing an envelope to Train. The brown-haired man widened his eyes of surprise. He could not be serious... "You earned it."

"Nah, I was just trying to repay you for lunch," Train said, turning his head away from the envelope. "Besides, it was your intel."

Mr. green-hair certainly seemed surprised at that. "But—"

"Forget it!" Train said, a smile on his face as he watched the road. It flew by just as quickly as it came to them, changing every second. He hoped that was the way his life would continue to be like. Changing with every single moment, never wanting to close his eyes for fear of missing a single thing yet also unafraid to take a breather and relax. "I didn't become a sweeper for the money. A simple carefree life...that's all I want."

A life of peace and adventure all in one.

A moment of silence passed where Train just watched the road. The wind felt great with the window down. It was not his bike, but it still had a certain sense of freedom that he very much enjoyed. Tranquil and exciting all at once. This was his life now and he could not be more grateful for it.

"You know, you never told me your name."

"Train Heartnet," he introduced, turning to the man. "And you?"

"Sven Vollified."


"Are you comfortable?"

"Yeah, this sure beats prison food any day of the week!"

"That is fortunate. And your newfound abilities?"

"They're amazing! With this power, this Tao thing, I could—"

"I trust you have not forgotten who it was that released you from your shackles. As well as how those shackles were cut from you."

A strained silence.

"No."

"Then I do believe you have a bargain to fulfill."

A fisted hand and clenched teeth. A comfortable posture and a rose.

"Who's the target?"

"Not just yet. First, there are some...details...which you should be made aware of. After all, we would not want your week-long coma to be in vain, would we?"

A restrained growl. A pleasant smile.

A tension of promised death.


"The shooting range again?" Annette asked as her employee geared up to leave. The restaurant had closed merely five minutes ago, leaving the streets dark with only the occasional streetlamp to light the girl's well-worn path. Saya shrugged with a sheepish grin.

"Can't afford to get sloppy," she said. Despite the boot still attached to her leg and the crutch under her arm, the girl seemed to walk with a certain pep in her step. It had been there ever since she had poured the entirety of her earned cash into that new gun of hers. When she was not working, that girl was taking the thing apart, putting it back together, going over the different methods of shooting, reviewing the differences between her new carbine and her old pistol, or taking that gun to the shooting range.

Along with eating and sleeping, of course.

"Can't afford to live a little either, right?" Annette asked. She polished off the last glass—they had seen a couple of drunkards to the door those five minutes ago—and set it back in its place. Drunkards were far better patrons to her store than regulars. Drunks almost always tended to let the information that was important to them slip. It was usually up to Annette to filter the useful from the useless in terms of sweeping information, though.

"You make it sound like I don't know how to have fun anymore, Annette," Saya joked. She took ten steps in the woman's direction before leaning on her crutch once more. She had been taking more unassisted steps since Wednesday and anyone could tell she was ecstatic about that. Heck, even the patrons who were new to the store knew how filled with cheer the girl was! "We're leaving town in two days and I've only had a couple weeks' worth of shooting practice. My arm's gotten better, but my aim's still a bit shaky. How about when we move, we have a girl's day out?"

"I wouldn't count on it," Annette chuckled. While she was slightly envious of Saya and her desire to get up and go places, she was perfectly content to run her store and her business. "I still have work to do."

"Oh? Now who's the one avoiding fun?" Saya teased. Annette smirked.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, robo-girl."

"I'm off then. I'll be back around one," Saya laughed as she slung her new gun over her shoulder carefully. Annette nodded and waved her off.

"You have a key."

Saya smiled as she left the shop, leaving Annette to smoke in peace. The girl was no trouble, but it was quickly becoming apparent that she needed to get a move-on. Being still for three and a half months was counter-intuitive for her. Even though she had gotten the okay to shoot and was therefore able to move around a bit, she was still acting like some caged up cat.

"This move cannot come soon enough…" Annette said aloud as she let her head slide backwards. She watched the smoke continue on its well-worn pattern of twisting to a ceiling it would never reach. The same old story over and over again. By now, it was a monotonous and dull thing. She chuckled. "Maye I need this move as much as she does. This store can be a bit boring..."

It was a few moments before Annette rose her hand to wipe the tiredness away from her eyes. She could not afford to be slipping. Saya would be leaving her employment within a few months, as soon as her leg had healed enough to warrant the complete abandoning of her crutch, and then they would both be flying solo again. That girl had been allowing the elder woman to pamper herself in terms of actually catching decent naps again.

She would miss those naps when Saya went.

The bell jingled faintly, catching the attention of the tired entrepreneur. A frown creased itself onto her face.

"We're closed," she announced to the opening door. She needed to remember to lock it right after Saya went out on her midnight escapades. She would have no business after closing hours. She was already supposed to be asleep!

"I'm waiting for someone," a voice said from behind the door. Gruff and edgy, it was a sound that put Annette on guard immediately. "Is it okay if I wait inside for a while?"

"Sorry, but I just said we're closed," Annette asserted, coming around to the front. She was going to force him out if she had to. Something about him and the fact that he was meeting someone at midnight did not sit quite right with her.

"That's a shame..."


"Of all the nights to be shut down for maintenance..." Saya muttered as she trudged her way back to the store, the reminder of that sign absolutely killing her with every handicapped and crutch-supported step. "I know it's not usual for people to practice at midnight, even if it is a privately held security shooting range, but some of us actually do these sorts of things..."

She sighed heavily, her new gun slung over her shoulder. Her groupings had been getting tighter and tighter with each practice session even though the instructor had already deemed her a good shot on her first day. Yet for her, that was not enough. A stray bullet could kill her target instead of incapacitating them, could brand her a murderer. She had never lost one before and she would certainly not start now simply because of a new weapon.

Plus, she wanted to see if she could pull off her little ace in the hole with this gun. Despite only having it for a week, her confidence with the device was allowing her to think of possibly using the reflect shot with it. And given the fact that it accepted her pistol's ammunition, she would already have a set of tailored specialty bullets for her to use.

It was a definite possibility.

Saya rounded the corner onto the street that held the shop, fully intent on going inside and getting some much needed shuteye. Her foot was beginning to throb from the five block walk and she knew she really needed to...

"What on earth is that?" she asked aloud even though there was no one to hear her.

The door to Annette's shop was open, yet there was a sheer amber substance veiling the entrance thinly. It was ever so slightly limpid which allowed the young sweeper woman to make out a large burly object just beyond. It took strides in front of the door, almost akin to a large cat pacing before its prey. Waiting for it to come out of hiding.

This could not be her friend. After all, Annette was no six foot seven. Nor did she pace like that. A waste of time is what she called it when Saya complained of not being able to pace.

But if the figure pacing before the door was not Annette, then who was it? And where did Annette go?

Saya wasted as little time as possible getting out of the light. It would not do for this person to know she was there until she had an idea about what exactly she was up against. After all, she still had her crutch, which was a liability all on its own. Her foot already throbbing incessantly, the trek to an alleyway with a good visibility into the restaurant was a feat in and of itself.

When she found a good position, she slung her new tool over her shoulder and peered into the scope. While not always practical for her profession with how much she would be needed to run around once she was on her feet, she was glad she had gotten this particular model. She would have never guessed to have needed the night vision it provided so soon.

Through the circular optics, she found a decently cleared patch in window through which she could survey the situation. The burly figure was still pacing in a spot where she could not see him. But she could now see Annette. And she did not like what she saw.

The woman was pinned against the wall with a busted lip and a bruised eye, obviously shouting at her captor. There was a thin film of the odd substance surrounding her, and judging from how her friend struggled, it was a either pretty tough or fairly thick substance. Maybe even a bit of both.

"At least she's conscious…" Saya breathed, relief flooding through her system. Before the slight relaxation could alter her stance too terribly much, her target walked right into her line of sight.

Her eyes widened in recognition.


"This can't be right…" Sven muttered as his GPS continued to steer them down a long and windy road. They should have arrived at their hotel by now and their gas was getting too low. He pulled off to the side of the road and decided to finagle with the device himself.

"Hm? We there yet?" Train asked. Given that it was nearly midnight, the former Black Cat—Sven could still scarcely believe it, yet he knew it to be true—had been asleep.

"Did you put in the address I told you to while I was in the station?" Sven asked, going through the GPS menus in order to get to the particular screen he wanted. A lack of answer told him everything he needed to know. It was surprising how well people picked up on others' habits after a grand total of three weeks.

"You had one job…" the green haired sweeper moaned as he found that Train had put in the right words, but the wrong zip code. It would take them at least one hundred more miles and they had started this trip earlier in the afternoon.

"Don't worry about it, Svenny," Train said, suddenly awake, alert, and somehow chipper. Where had that sleepy attitude from five minutes ago gone? "I'll drive."

Sven cast a weary eye over at his partner. Their budding friendship was definitely an odd one, but he knew the kid actually had a good heart. As for his driving skills…he actually had no clue yet.

"Come on. You're exhausted and I promise not to drive through any windows," Train said. Before Sven could argue or deny his offer, he had already hopped out of the car. Sven sighed. The kid had won this one. He wordlessly shifted over to the passenger side and adjusted his seat so he could relax. He listened rather than watched as Train pulled the car out of the shoulder.

"Train…" Sven started. He wanted to say 'be careful with my car' or 'don't do anything stupid'. However, his brain was too tired to lecture at the present moment, so he settled for "Thanks."

"No problem," came Train's simple reply.

Right before he gunned it on the empty highway. Sven's eyes snapped open and he hung on for dear life, now unable to even entertain the idea of sleeping with this man at the wheel.

What in all the world had he just unleashed?

AmyNChan: Lolol, tell me you guys never noticed that Train never drives Sven's car... XDDD Slight headcannon, Train's a reckless driver and Sven won't get into a car he drives. XD

Train: Hey!

AmyNChan: Oh, you know I love you, dude. XD

Train: *grumbles*

AmyNChan: In any event, try to make a guess at the make of Saya's new gun! Wolfy, you can't guess cause you already know. XD Though I'll give you some hints: it's a real gun and made by the same company that makes her cannon gun~! *^_^*

Saya: *pulls out her new gun* Let's do this!

AmyNChan: yaaaay! *^_^* Please read and review~! *^_^*