Chapter 9: The Pink and Blue Banded Demon
Author's Note: Dammit, Quick Man, get over here and EAT MY CRASH BOMBS, BITCH!
Yeah, this is a bit of a filler chapter. Near NO jokes, just giving exposition and shit. Ah well. Enjoy, anyway.
A few days earlier
Johnny Showdown took a long, heavy drag from the brown, fiery tube, the other end alight, the smoke filling his mouth and causing the tongue to burn pleasantly. He moved the cigar away from his lips and breathed heavily out his nose. His hotel behind him, the city before him, with great blazes of sunlight beaming through the glass pillars. He smiled.
"Nice day for it." He murmured, beginning to walk into the city. His pro-life band on full display, his yoyo in one hand, his cigar in the other, his short hair only just catching the colder wind. His footsteps held that lightness of joy that none of the business folk, surrounding him with their faces to the ground, could ever hope to achieve. He was a glare in a sea of monotony, an apple in a basket of eggs. To his left, he saw a small coffee shop. He recognised it as the one he had went to yesterday, and decided to enter with a smile. His hands worked faster than his eyes. Newspaper, small pen for the puzzles, wallet, English-Japanese phrasebook. He could read the language, but, in Johnny's own words 'Pronunciation's a bitch in this place' so that was that.
"Anything else, sir?" The man at the counter asked. Johnny didn't understand, though knew enough about standard civility to have a good guess.
"A muffin and a coffee, sir." He blurred clumsily, handing over a good few yen. He sat on a table outside and ignoring the headlines and other stories, wondered what the Sudoku puzzle would hold and flicked to that page.
If he had not misplaced his finger, then all would be well and Johnny's place in this story would not be warranted, but at a cruel twist of fate, the sports page beheld itself to him and with it the glaring obvious face of Morris Wellington. Johnny accidentally tore the page straight in two due to the shock. He remained sitting there, astounded, and his mind went into autopilot.
An hour passed. Neither coffee nor muffin had even been touched as Johnny sat, staring, comprehending the horrible, ugly truth. He looked around carefully, and walked away, knowing exactly what to do, and how this situation could be turned to his advantage.
The sun flared across the white hot pavement leading to the Mishima Zaibatsu Stadium where the tournament was being held. Queues were vast, numerous and crammed together, as if the whole world was churned into a lobby fit for six. Johnny made good to stay to the edges of this crowd, so he could fork away if he needed to. A small opening leading into the staff entrance was found, and Johnny slipped into the door. He smiled nastily as he found the new corridor devoid of life besides a Tekken Force grunt, pre-occupied with watching the fights on a small TV.
"And now we go to Arena Six, where Morris Wellington and Julia Chang are having a deadly battle. It's looking good for Julia, but Morris…"
Johnny blocked out the foreign voice out of his head, and walked discreetly past. He reached a number of doors, all numbered. He went to the sixth door, and opened it carefully. He drew his Polaroid camera before he thought to, and looked for anyone Morris may have associated with. He took a quick picture of Morris, and awaited a sign.
"CAN'T YOU SEE HE'S HAD ENOUGH?" Somebody shouted. A young woman. Brunette, short hair, youthful, impressive figure. Johnny smiled nastily. It's going too perfectly, he thought, as his camera glared the flash once more.
The next port of call was a small, poky coffee shop. It was a cold, deadly atmosphere, except for the smiling shopkeeper. The shopkeeper was a burly man, tattoos across his arms, dressed smartly but casually.
"Can I help you, sir?" He said warmly. Johnny didn't understand the Japanese, but made a good guess and sat down. He looked around. The coffee house was completely empty.
"Yakuza." He said. The shopkeeper's eyes became cold, as a business man would when the deal was first mentioned. He said nothing, just went to the back. A few minutes passed until he came back with a suit wearing, dark haired man walked in. He wore glasses and smoked a thin cigarette.
"Now what's a British man doing in my city?" He snarled as he sat down. Johnny smiled.
"Don't worry… um…" He bit his lip. "Is it Kenta?"
"It is." The reply was cold and uninviting. "Just who the hell might you be?"
"A paying customer." Johnny said his smile still intact. "I have a small request."
"That's not an answer." Kenta said, clicking his fingers. "I want you to tell me your name."
"I don't want to give you that information." Johnny replied. "I've got enemies. You could easily be one of them. Now, what I want is muscle. I'm going to need some expendable grunts to help me restrain a…" Then he heard the gun behind him get loaded. His head turned slowly, and a hideous grin appeared. Three men, all built brick shithouses. Only one gun, a Smith and Wesson, five bullets, so not expecting any trouble. Piece of piss.
"You want muscle?" Kenta said. "You've got it."
Johnny's hand reached into his pocket, yoyo in hand. The grunt nearest to him pulled him off the chair and threw him onto the floor, away from Kenta. The silencer was just pointing at Johnny, but the yoyo slammed straight into his forehead. He was knocked back, and looked up. He saw the yoyo, he saw the blood drip onto the floor from his own head, and then he dropped dead.
The yoyo was hard steel, with protruding, curled blades like talons. The gore, blood and bone hung ghastly from it, with Johnny's horrifying grin emphasizing the nightmare. All in the room stood stunned. Then one of the other grunts ran to him, readying a fist. Johnny spun on his heel, the string of the yoyo wrapping around the grunt's neck. He threw the yoyo's head at the third grunt, slamming into his chest and spinning nastily. The grunt died screaming, and the garrotte wire did its work on the other as he choked and dropped. Johnny looked to Kenta and put the yoyo calmly on the table. The blades folded away and once again, the yoyo looked harmless, if bloodstained. Kenta's jaw shuddered.
"Know who I am now, Kenta-san?" Johnny asked maliciously. "Or should you be next?"
"Johnny Showdown…" Kenta said in part awe, part horror. He stood in panic and bowed. "I apologise for the misunderstanding, Showdown-san." Johnny's grinned widened.
"It's ok." He waved the excuse away. "I need three grunts who are expendable, a warehouse and a van. No guns." Kenta raised an eyebrow.
"No guns?" He asked. "What do you want them for, Showdown-san?" Johnny's wicked grin closed, then smirked.
"I want this target to die painfully." Johnny explained. "Slowly. But most of all, nastily. The whole point of him being killed is to make an example." He sat back, pulling a cigar from his coat pocket and biting heavily onto one end. He lit the other, and began his story.
"My first ever job was ten years ago. I was just an upcoming freelancer at the time, completely unknown." Johnny's cigar burned heavily as the smoke filled the air slowly, causing Kenta and the shopkeeper to cough heavily. "My first ever clients were a ring back in the north of England known as the Stamfords. They had been screwed over by someone, big time. Forty six grand went down the toilet. That's well over 6.5 million in your money. So they went after her. All they found as a dead body and a ton of explosives. All of them were high paid in that stinger group, and they lost another two grand, and their head man. So they came to me. They didn't want all the other groups to think that the Stamford's were losing steam, so they came to me and a bunch of other guys."
"What for?" Kenta asked. "If she was dead, who'd the Stamfords go after?" Johnny laughed gently. Kenta started to regret ever joining the Yakuza if it meant meeting this mad man.
"Anyone else they could get their hands on." Johnny answered. "Every single person she ever knew, ever even spoken to." He dragged on the cigar quickly. "Husband, siblings, parents, children, friends, teachers, anyone and everyone. They paid four guys to kill twenty people, and seeing as I was a newbie, I got her ten year old son. They said to make an impression with him. So I burnt down his flat." Kenta spat the coffee he was drinking in shock. "The entire block. Sixty eight people, dead. Looked like an accident, but the other gangs knew who it was. The other three they got to kill this list were picked off."
"By who…?" Kenta stopped asking. He had guessed. "Carry on, Showdown-san."
"It was hard, took me two years to find twenty two of them, and the husband and daughter are still out there somewhere, but eventually the Stamfords didn't want the string of deaths to go back to them so they called it square. Twenty two people, three grand a head, and some extras for the really important and brutal ones. Do the math, Kenta-san." Johnny sucked on his cigar. "Been doing jobs for years now. Decided to retire at the ripe old age of thirty. Came back to Japan. I've got friends here."
"And you've found those two loose ends?" Kenta asked. Johnny shook his head.
"It was a bigger surprise. I was feeling pretty good today. Sunny day. Just waiting for the house I bought to get ready, so thought I'd come here to see the sights. I saw a sight, for sure." He reached for the Polaroid of Morris. "Recognise him?" Kenta laughed angrily.
"Yeah. I lost a good thousand on him today." He looked up. "What has he got to do with anything?"
"Well, he looks good, doesn't he?" Johnny said. "Especially for somebody who's been dead for a good ten years." Kenta looked up.
"The son?" He asked. Johnny stuck his thumb up.
"I got ten grand for him when he was ten." He said. "The Stamfords'll get a rude shock when they found out they've lost another ten grand thanks to this family. Unless I kill him and send them his body. Now think how much they'll gimme." He sat back. Kenta nodded.
"So, you want expendable musclemen, a place to crash and a van?" Kenta said. "I'm interested. So, how much am I being paid in this venture?" Johnny began to laugh.
"Paid?" He giggled. Kenta went red before Johnny decided to explain, reaching for the second Polaroid. "You see, Kenta-san, you don't want my money. I could give you your own weight in gold and it wouldn't buy you this." He threw the Polaroid, this one of Asuka, onto the table. "She's going to be the bait in this trap. I won't need her once Morris is dead. She's all yours." Kenta's tongue rolled in his mouth. Johnny sneered in disgust. "Lechery. Man's greatest design flaw, right?" Kenta stood up.
"Showdown-san." He stated. "Expect your men the day after tomorrow." He put his hand out. "Deal?" Johnny smiled, wiping the bloodied yoyo with his shirt sleeve and extending his own hand. He clasped Kenta's hand firmly and friendlily, knowing that Kenta will be dead as soon as this deal was over.
"Deal." He said outwardly. I'll send the girl with Morris to the Stamfords. He said inwardly. Another grand for a little present.
A few days later
Morris rinsed off the sweat on his face for the twelfth time that day. He looked up to the mirror. His face wasn't the sunken in skull it once was. It now had meat, and he had even shaved. He shook his head slowly as his now much longer hair fell over his eyes slightly.
"What the hell am I to do?" He asked himself. His reflection stared back, beginning to scowl.
"Go fuck yourself, Morris Wellington, you fucking idiot." He murmured to himself. Morris rolled his head around angrily.
"Hey, fuck you, it isn't easy being me!"
"No. No it isn't." He retorted. "But you don't have to put others in danger, do you!"
"I expected them to let me win them the fucking money!" Morris shouted. "How the hell was I to know Johnny would be here?"
"Asuka doesn't deserve it." He replied. "So who does? Do you?" Morris blinked in surprise.
"Look, how the fuck is it my fault?"
"Whose fault is it then?" He asked. "Your mum's? She got you into this whole mess!"
"It was pushed onto her, it wasn't her fault!"
"Wasn't it?" He snarled. "How about Spike? It was his rashness, his stupidity, his leaping before he looked that killed your own fucking mother!"
"Fuck you! The hell else was he going to do? In his position I would've!"
"If not his fault, then whose?" He murmured. "Lean closer, and I'll tell you." Morris was interested, and leant in. "Yours." Morris stood back, choking on his breath, almost falling off his feet.
"Don't blame me, I'm too awesome!"
"Oh, always the ego, always the frigging optimism!" Morris shouted suddenly. "WAKE UP, MORRIS WELLINGTON!" He stood back. "You heard me. Mum tried to stop it. Spike tried to stop it. You did what? NOTHING!" Morris let the words sink in, smirking as he did. "Johnny burnt the flat down. YOUR FAULT! Everyone else in that entire block is now dead. YOUR FAULT! It's your fault that your mum's dead and it's going to be you to blame when Asuka dies too!"
"Oh fuck off, you've had way too much to drink to talk sense." Morris rolled his eyes, dismissing his information as he would a restaurant bill. His ego gathered all the information he didn't like and made it go away.
"Asuka's going to die. Johnny Showdown will be the one holding the gun but it will be your stupidity that does it in the end." He leaned toward his reflection, still talking as he did. "Johnny's going to use her to get you out in the open, you're going to panic and get yourself killed. She'll be no use to Johnny anymore and she'll die."
"Bull fucking shit." Morris laughed. "I'm a way better fighter than Johnny Showdown. The guy attacks people with a fucking yoyo." He shook his head in disappointment.
"Morris, you dumb fuck, Johnny doesn't fight like anyone else here." He said. "He doesn't care whether or not he wins or loses, he just kills." Morris raised an eyebrow.
"How can a guy lose a fight and kill his opponent?"
"Kazuya may've wanted to kill you, but he was more concerned about winning, and remember, you were fully focused on winning too." Morris explained. "Johnny doesn't work like that, you know he doesn't. He'll make you nervous. He'll do something to Asuka…"
"No, he won't. She'll beat him up piss easy."
"He'll take her out." Morris carried on regardless. "He'll find a way to really mess with you. You know what he'll do."
"Don't you dare say it!" His voice snarled, the air itself shying away from the anger in his voice.
"He'll film it too." Morris murmured, trying to goad a fight. "Not on the first day, mind you. He'll send you a different tape first. He'll describe what he will do to her, in as much detail as it takes to really boil your blood. He'll then tell you on what condition he'll leave her alone, and by then you'll be way too angry to think it through. You'll rush in and you'll both get killed!" He laughed harshly. "And it's your, FUCKING, FAULT!"
Morris punched the mirror in a blind rage. He looked to where the mirror once was.
"I'll kill him if he so much as tries!" He said. He heard a sharp intake of breathe, and turned to face Asuka, tears in her eyes. "How much did you hear?" He asked.
"Every word." She said, before pulling him into a hug. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know I was putting you in danger bringing you here."
"It's you I'm worried about." He whispered, holding his own tears back. He then pulled himself away from her. "Asuka, we've got to leave." Asuka stuttered slightly.
"P-pardon?" She said as she watched Morris walk past her. "Morris!"
"It's for the best!" He dismissed as he looked around for anything he needed to take. "We'll get out of Japan, otherwise he'll find us. My dad's in South America, so that's a no. Safety in division…" He thought carefully.
"Morris, what about Jin?" Asuka asked desperately. "This is the only time we can get him!" Morris dismissed this.
"We'll catch him next time." He said. "What's this tournament, annual? Next year'll be good." Asuka sat down in pain. She couldn't believe what was happening.
"Morris, Jin's going to win if we don't stop him and he'll start another war…" Morris laughed.
"Asuka, you pessimist." He said. "Neither you nor I are in the army, so who gives two shits?" He walked over to the door, opening it and standing by it. "Ladies first." Asuka murmured silently to herself.
"Don't you care for all those lives?" She asked. Morris rolled his eyes.
"No time for this. Johnny's had a few days to plan my untimely death, so time is of the essence. As Jin will win anyway. He's a total bitch." He waited for Asuka, who was sat still. He sighed. "So this is how it's going to be." He walked over to her. "Asuka, if you stay here, Johnny will kill you, and I don't want that. But if you wanna end it all…" He then amazed her, kissing her on the cheek as a husband would to his wife before going to work. "– go get'em, baby." He walked over to the door and stepped outside with a spring his step.
"Morris… yesterday, at the hospital…" Morris stopped in his tracks as Asuka said this. "– you told me that I didn't even think twice before running into a flurry of knives to save you a scratch." Morris shook slightly. "I don't know where I stand for you, whether you see me as a friend or as eye candy, but when you offered up all your money if you won for me, I could tell that I meant something to you." Morris's fists clenched. Asuka could tell his instinct was telling him to run, but he sure didn't want to. "Can you do the same for me? We have to stop Jin!"
Silence reigned supreme, as a chill ran over the hotel. Morris stood, not noticing the rest of the world. Even his mind had stopped. Indecision dominated his thinking, and Asuka saw it. She tried to begrudge him for nearly running away, but she knew it was what he had done all his life, running away from the demon with the pink and blue band. She thought of a way to bring him back in.
"Well, if I got anything else out…" Morris replied, the smirk on his face becoming devilish. "- you'd faint with joy."
Asuka cursed herself for thinking of the idea, but could see no other solution. She grabbed the nearby vase of flowers and looked up to the heavens.
"Sorry, grandma." She whispered. Then she looked dead ahead at Morris. "Oh no!" She shouted melodramatically. "This vase full of water is toppling in my hand. I hope it doesn't fall." She heard a painful groan from Morris. She bit her lip. Don't make me do it. "Uh oh…" She said, then, begging for forgiveness from whatever deity watched her now, spilt a drop of water on her shirt. It was embarrassingly warm, and she felt disgusted. "Whoops." She said, deciding to add a drop for good luck. Morris began to turn around.
"If I can't at least see your bra, I'm off to Toronto!" He barked jokingly.
