A/N: Sorry for the long update. I spent the past weekend at DNOW. I had hoped to update before than, but I hadn't quite finished. So once I got back, I was too pumped over the events of the weekend to write. Anyways, Enjoy.

Through Smudged Glass

By angelwings1

Chapter 10

"There wasn't anything left worth mentioning at the storage facility. They must have moved."

"Damn it."

"You sure you checked everywhere at the safe house?"

"For the last f— time I looked."

Lapse of silence. "Really looked?"

"Would you shut the hell up about the f— safe house?"

"I should have visited you in jail. She wouldn't be in the Shogun's hands if I had been there."

"Listen bastard, she was fine until she skipped out. I was doing a damn good job of protecting her. I don't need your girlie ass."

"Then why did you call me?"

Another lapse of silence, this time on the opposite end. "Shut up."

"We need to go back to the safe house to double check for clues."

"Hell no! I told you there's nothing to find!"

"Mugen, it's been two days. What do you suggest?"

"…"

"We could use Momo."

"Momo's a f—mutt. Not a bloodhound."

"We're out of options."

"Wait!"

"What?" a shrewd drawl.

"The gangs will know about the Shogunate."

"…gangs?"

"Listen, four eyes. If anyone steps in on gang turf, someone is bound to know. Fuu's friend said the Shogun had figured out that we were in the neighborhood so they had to be sniffing close by. I doubt the gang lords would have challenged any of the Shogun, but they would have kept some type of watch on them."

"Maybe I was wrong."

"Wrong?"

"You can actually use your brain for more than fighting."

"Shut the hell up."

"I'll meet you at the corner of your apartment."

"F—that.. I'm not waiting for your slow ass."

Click

..

The pool hall a block away from the apartment complex was a hole in the wall. The roaches could attest to it. Not that he gave a shit. He had slept in rooms filled with rats. It was the reason he fell asleep with gloves on. The damn rats like to nibble on your fingers while you slept. So when he walked into the hall called "8 Slick," he was in his element.

The small bell on the door sang softly as it closed behind him. Its gentle nature seemed misplace in the ratty building, but he knew it was dare to warn the owner of visitors. The bell gave them some time to hide the drugs. His hard eyes swept over the room meeting each glare with mild indifference. There were five of them plus the guy behind the counter. Normally that would mean the odds were in his favor, but he guessed there were about half a dozen more in the back room.

"That's the guy!"

The voice was irritably familiar in the ex-gangster's memory and he realized he had picked the perfect building. Swiveling to the left, he openly glared at the mongrel ducking behind his older, rougher version. Mugen gave up trying to scare the boy and studied the brother. The man was a few inches taller than the ex-gangster and broader shoulder. Tattoos covered the full length of his arms and he wore tattered jeans and a red tank. Decked out with muscles bulging off his arms and chest, the guy looked ready to take an eighteen wheeler head on.

Mugen's smirk twisted darkly. He had taken on men twice his size. Abruptly, his smirk dropped as he reexamined the tattoos covering the gang leader's forearms. He recognized those from somewhere.

"My little brother says you're a Ryu-kuuian." The guy stated lazily, rubbing the blue square on the end of his pole stick while his eyes watched the ex-gangster. "That true?"

Mugen strolled further into the room and chuckled dryly, "No one lies about being a Ryu-kuuian. Gets you killed faster than the drugs."

The blonde calmly tossed the chalk onto the table. "People have done it. Especially a few foolish kids. Don't think the Ryu-kuuians would care this far out."

Mugen gave a feral grin, ignoring the pair of men covertly drifting towards the door. They thought they had a chance if they surrounded him. Mugen leaned casually on the edge of the leader's table, picking up an unfinished cigarette in the ash tray. Stealing a drag, the ex-gangster leveled a steady gaze on the man, enjoying how his brow pinched in irritation. It was dangerous to get between a man and his hand-made cigarette. Pushing the heavy taste out through his nostrils, he replaced the marijuana. "As you can see sooner or later one us rolls through. We have a nose for trash."

Someone shuffled at his left, obviously taking the comment like he had hoped they would. Pushing off the table, he began to walk around the stained pool table. He noticed the counter man lower his hands out of view, probably reaching for a hidden gun.

"So what stick is up your ass to get you here, Ryu-kuuian?"

Mugen glanced towards one of the men to his right, a sign to the leader that he wasn't afraid to take his eyes off him.

"I'm looking for the Shogun." His smooth reply got the leader's eyebrows to jump. "They've been sniffing around here lately so I know you have an idea where they might be right now."

The nameless man followed him with a curious stare. "What would a Ryu-kuuian want from the Shogunate?"

Mugen lazily reached for the nearest billiard ball, the cue ball. "They stole my girl."

The blonde snorted. "No girl is worth the price of facing those bastards."

Mugen shrugged. "She's a pain in the ass, but I don't like it when people take my toys."

"Your funeral." No name chuckled darkly, propping his pool stick over his shoulders. His brother glanced nervously between the two. Mugen waited only two seconds before getting pissed.

"You going to tell me where you are?" he growled, hand gripping the cue ball tighter. "Or do I have to kick your ass?"

Blondie grinned slyly, his eyes bright and eager. "Now here's your problem, Ryu-kuuian. Normally, I wouldn't give a flying f— about the Shogun or telling you where they were. This is my turf and I don't like when people trespass, even you.

"However," he breathed. "The Shogun became good buddies with us recently. They wanted answers and in exchange we got some spending money."

Mugen's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You were the informants."

"Might be." He joked lightly, ignoring the signs of trouble radiated from the ex-gangster. "Actually, we first told them shove it, but we saw the light when they waved the Franklins. We didn't know for certain she was here in this neighborhood until a couple of days ago."

Mugen scowled. What happened a couple of days ago?

"Where are they?" he snapped, sick of playing with the prissy, snot-nose.

"Don't know. Don't care." Blondie replied cheerily, grating his nerves even worse. "I lost interest after they moved out of my property."

"Wrong answer, smart ass!" Mugen hissed before chunking the cue ball. With perfect accuracy, the white ball cracked into the man's forehead. From there everything became a wild flurry of chaos. His best setting when it came to dog fights.

The guy behind the counter was the next one he took out, mainly because he was the first to whip out a gun, a rifle no less. One hand went for his gun beneath his jacket while the other wrapped around another billiard ball. With a flick of his wrist, the ball flew in a perfect line, straight into the side of the rifle barrel. The rain of bullets narrowly missed Mugen and plowed directly into the charging man behind him. Mugen had put a hole in his head before he could let loose another round.

Regrettably, he wasn't able to keep his gun from being knocked from his hand when he turned to face the next challenger. The pool stick broke over his gun wielding hand, shooting hot waves up his arm.

"Shit!" He howled. Never loosing steam, Mugen brought his uninjured fist to punch the attacker in the face. Bone crunched and blood sprayed over his knuckles. As the guy was swearing loudly and clutching his broken nose, Mugen roundhouse kicked him in the temple. Mugen grinned sadistically as his concealed steel toe made a vicious dent in the man's head.

'Three down. No, four. Stupid kid won't do anything.'

It was that moment a door cracked open and a flood of men poured out from the back hall. They must have heard the gun fire. Mugen straightened, smirk spreading. He was finally going to get a real fight. All fun flew out the window, however, when a wall of guns lifted. Mugen's face fell in disgust as he dove behind the pool table. "Shit!"

The volley sounded like a clump of firecrackers had been set off. The poor table didn't stand up against the rain of bullets. Shattered wood burst over his head, but the man didn't flinch. He calmly snatched up his gun which miraculously landed only a short distance away from the table. Causally rolling onto his belly, he aimed at the feet in plain view between the stout table legs. After carefully counting his bullets and the number of reachable feet, he shot off a full magazine.

The noise quickly switched from gunfire to shouts of pain and confusion. Mugen took his window of opportunity and grabbed his surprise present. He had wanted to save it for when he found the Shogunate, but he could always make another one later. Cracking life into his lighter, the ex-gangster lit his homemade grenade. Once the ripped clothe caught fire, he tossed the bottle of seventy-proof vodka over the table, producing another round of cries before the explosion of heat and thunder.

Taking burst of sound as his signal, he rolled to the side of the table with a reloaded gun. He took out seven guys before they could regroup. By that point, he had surged forward and was knocking out the guns faster than they could shoot. Flames were rapidly consuming the room, but he could care less. He had fought in a burning bar before after all.

Switching hastily between fist and gun, Mugen had killed eight of the ten men in minutes. Spinning on his heel, he found his gun pointing to the gang leader and his wimpy brother. His lips twisted. "Didn't think I could get through all your dogs that quick."

The air rippled with foul odor as the fire began to eat the walls. The kid began to tug wildly at his older sibling's forearm, his head swinging in every direction. "Marcus, we gotta get out!"

"Shut up!" Blondie snapped, eyes angrily on Mugen's gun. "I die and you loose any chance of finding your girl."

"Talk fast then." Mugen growled cheerily. "I get what I want and maybe I forget to shoot you."

The rafters creaked sharply, but no one dared a peek. Marcus shifted his weight uncomfortably. His blue eyes darted to his dead comrades when their clothes began to catch fire. His nose wrinkled when stench of burning flesh filled the room. He glared mutinously at the ex-gangster. "I heard they moved closer up town. Took over some church on Hicky Court."

"A church?" Mugen scowled. "Are they stupid?"

"Who gives a shit?" Marcus grumbled, eyes darting past the gangster's shoulder. "As long as they're out of my hair."

Mugen's stomach abruptly dropped. Being a man of instinct, the ex-gangster fell forward. A gun cracked inches above his head and an angry shot followed. Mugen didn't stop to check what had happen. He spun and threw out his leg. His shin connected with the back of someone's knees and then a heavy body crashed to the floor. His gun was instantly on the new figure. 'Must have miscounted. Wouldn't be the first time.'

The ex-gangster's face darkened worse than any storm cloud when he saw the attacker's face. 'Garrett.'

He should have recognized the tattoos sooner on the leader's arms. They were identical to the ones on the ass from the bar. They were gang symbols.

From his vulnerable position on the floor, the familiar blonde smirked. "Hey, dipstick."

"I knew I should have killed you earlier," Mugen rumbled. "Course, thanks to you. Fuu ain't here to stop me now."

"Bitch deserved it." Garrett spat angrily, acting immune to the threat of gleaming metal in his face. "She crossed a line."

"So did you when you gave her up to the Shogun." The gun shifted and Mugen fired without much else of a warning. Garrett screamed bloody murder, crumbling into a fetal position with his hands between his legs. Mugen hurried to turn back on Marcus and his brother, convinced Garrett wouldn't get up. The blonde was clutching his bleeding shoulder, his face a pasty white.

"Damn it!" he hissed, blue eyes screwing shut. "Stupid asshole!"

His younger brother was shocked into silence. His eyes were round and staring at the blood pouring out of his invincible sibling. Probably never heard a gun go off, let alone see anyone get shot by one. Mugen relaxed, but kept his gun up.

"What church?" he asked tonelessly.

Marcus glared at him through the corner of his eye. He obviously wanted to tear the ex-gangster apart, but had little to no chance of success with his arm.

"I don't know." he replied heatedly through clenched teeth. "I only heard they took over some church on Hicky Court. It was enough for me."

"Too bad for you," Mugen answered darkly, shooting two bullets into the man. He fell with a satisfying thud. The boy never made a sound as Mugen headed for the door.

His feet slowed when they reached the side of the castrated thug. Acknowledging that his gun wasn't empty, his stormy eyes studied the unaware man. His pounding heart wanted to kill him. His had so much blood on his hands that it didn't matter to add one more death. Yet, he stepped away, leaving him to the ravenous flames.

Killing was his way of showing supremacy over the challenger. Garrett was not worth the waste of anymore bullets. He had pissed him off, but he doubt the man had the balls to do it again, especially after the perfect shot he gave.

With a brooding expression marring his face, the ex-gangster strolled leisurely out of the ratty pool hall. Any thoughts of the fire and remaining occupants were nonexistent in his mind as he exited. The bell rang merrily behind him.

..

Ring.

Click.

"Where are you?"

"Heading out of 8 Slick."

"Found something?"

"Get to Hicky Court. She's in some church."

"A church? How ironic."

"Whatever."

"Which church? There are three."

"Shit."

Click followed by a dial tone.

..

Jin was surprisingly wrong for once. There weren't three churches on Hicky Court; there were four. Mugen whirled angrily in the center of the massive court, his face darting between the opposing buildings. "Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit."

Pulling up off his motorcycles, he began to debate where to start. One was Baptist, one was Assembly of God, one was some random "Zion" name, and the last was a Catholic church. He and Fuu had visited each on different weekends. She preferred the doctrine of the Baptist, but loved the old cathedral sanctuary of the St. Mary's. She told him once that whenever she felt the urge to go pray at a church she would choose St. Mary's because of the romantic atmosphere.

Mugen's scowl deepened. He was tempted to wait for Jin, but he didn't care to waste any more time. He had already lost two more days trying to smoke out the gang leaders. There was no evidence to prove she was dead or alive, but his gut was twisting so tight, he couldn't stand waiting. Besides, the sky was growing dark with storm clouds. He really didn't want to deal with the rain.

Randomly selecting the Baptist Church as the first of the four, he jogged into the street. He hadn't gotten halfway across asphalt when a distinct brown four-door Oldsmobile rumbled out in front of him. Piercing blue eyes stared at him through the passenger window, stopping the ex-gangster where he stood. Mugen grew irritated when the professional fighter than stop his car and instead, parallel park in front of the Catholic Church. Cursing, Mugen jogged through the traffic, flipping off several of the angry drivers as he headed for the car. By the time he got there, Jin had locked the car.

The two men stared silently at each other, almost unsure how to approach the situation surrounding their reunion. Jin didn't look much different from that last day. His jeans were new, along with the gray tee, but the navy cotton jacket sporting the faded silver koi fish in the top left corner was exactly the same. He was even wearing his white boxing tape on his hands.

The fighter's thin lips that were usually set in a solid unreadable line twisted the smallest measure upward. His eyes almost twinkled behind his fake glasses. "It's good to see you again, Mugen."

That same toneless, calculating voice.

"I'm surprise Shino was still hanging around the convent." Mugen commented dryly, shifting towards the church doors. "Figured you and her would have the white picket fence as soon as we all separated."

Jin fell into the familiar spot on the ex-gangster left, days of old flashing briefly. "She fell in love with the life there. She wasn't ready to leave when I showed up."

"Love suffers long," Mugen mumbled beneath his breath as he reached for the door handle.

Jin's trained ears caught the slight muttering and swiveled his head to appraise his old friend's profile. "1st Corinthians 13:4."

The door had only opened a small crack when Mugen's tan fingers stiffened on the handle. Jin's eyes watched the man carefully, uncertain. After a stretched minute, the fighter pulled his face back towards the doors.

"I figured Fuu would follow her father's faith," he commented softly. "Never thought you would look beyond the philosophy of a bullet."

"Don't start pointing fingers." Mugen growled. "Sounds like you've been reading into it yourself."

Jin's pale fingers, the visible opposite in color to the ex-gangster's, tugged on the opposite door. "It's hard to ignore something that surrounds you daily."

The ex-gangster's clenched the smooth brass. He understood perfectly.

Suddenly, the recognizable sound of a gun pushed through the entrance's cracked opening. Both fighters flinched, the single thread of fear passing through each of their hearts. The doors were ripped open simultaneously.

They lurched forward, stepping into the small room lined with colorful pamphlets and smiling photographs. Another set of doors stood before them as the entrance to the sanctuary. Mugen reached them first.

He had swung them both open just as a second gunshot fired. He could barely explain the sensation racing through him when his brain caught up with his eyes. It was like something had reach down his throat and stole his inners. In the last few months of visits, he had never felt such wrongness within the white walls of the huge building. The sanctuary was raped of the holiness it had glowed. There was a cold darkness clouding the pews, instead, with carnal shouts of satisfied pleasure rising from the seats.

Looking beyond the crowd, he stared numbly at the scene playing in slow motion of the platform. He was vaguely aware of the black suits acknowledging his presence. In the corner of his eyes, he could see them frantically scrambling towards them, intent to kill him and Jin. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered why they hadn't guarded the front doors. The rest of his attention was consumed on the sight of smoke and falling brown. The sight of red followed by the glint of metal was the last detail he would later recall before his hand wrapped around his P99.

His magazine was empty in a short minute. His gun clicked loudly above the screams and shouts, but he was too wound up to notice the trigger was no longer producing any bullets. His brain couldn't keep up with his surroundings as random flashes erupted with thunder.

A rough hand grappled his shoulder, dragging him to the floor. He was faintly aware that Jin was trying to pull him out of danger's path. Dozens of sharp thuds clipped the doors behind them as they crouched low to the floor. He heard the professional fighter beside him reloading his handgun and Mugen mechanically followed his example. Jin was firing long before him. The remaining half of the mob had ducked behind the pews, taking turns shooting over and around their shields.

Unconsciously, Mugen's dark eyes darted to the abandoned figure sprawled out stage. Her head had lolled to the side, her face turned away. There was too much blood.

Life snapped back into the ex-gangster as he tumbled to the left behind his own pew of protection. He didn't even care what the Jin did at that point. He had never included the professional fighter in his plans before and he sure as Hell wasn't about to let the girlie ass get in on his fight now. Every man in that church was his to kill.

Shooting pass the opposite end of his pew, the ex-gangster charged the nearest Shogun member. The guy scrambled to raise the barrel of his rifle at the approaching man, but Mugen had already shot him between the eyes. The grungy dressed member collapsed silently to the floor. Mugen hurried to retrieve the automatic rifle. After pushing his handgun back into its hostel, the ex-gangster turned on the clumped masses. The thirst for death was heavy on his tongue.

Surprisingly, when the bodies began to drop like flies, there was a deep sense of emptiness. His teeth were gnashing together as the rain of bullets leapt from the rifle. Blood splattered the air and lives were cut off from the world, but the fulfillment of each death didn't bring the usually buzz to his senses. Even when the last man had stopped moving, Mugen kept shooting at the corpses.

"Mugen!"

The lifeless bodies jumped with the powerful blows. That familiar pull of adrenaline was pulsing through his veins. He always felt a surge before a fight, the powerful thrum of his heart against his ribs when he relished a kill. But the rush wasn't slowing down like it normally did after the fight was over. It was still pounding against his temple, reaching the point of painful. He didn't understand why he was so empty even after all of the men were dead.

"Mugen, stop!"

The ex-gangster roared with fury, turning the gun on the ceiling, the pews, anything in the church. The pull to fight was overpowering! The crashing chandelier went unnoticed. It didn't stop the pang in his stomach. Why was he still hungry for blood?

"Mugen!"

The bullets whizzed higher and broke through the rails of the balcony. Splinters rain everywhere along with plaster. It was falling like snow, or maybe tears.

Suddenly, the stain glass window at the front of the church, the one with the cross, was overcome with bullets and shattered. Mugen's finger slipped off the trigger as he saw the symbol break into a thousand pieces. He didn't know why the image struck a cord.

Maybe he was angry. Maybe it was God he was angry at…because it was God's fault for abandoning her.

'What God?' His hand clenched tighter around the rifle, knuckles turning white. 'Why would I hate someone that doesn't exist?'

"Mugen, she's still alive."

His face swung slowly to the stage, focusing on the fighter who was hastily wrapping his gray jacket around her. The ex-gangster blinked and the hollowness in his chest disappeared. Without thinking, he rushed to the edge of the platform. The rifle clattered loudly to the floor as Mugen carelessly threw it away and knelt next to her limp form.

"She is?" his voice came out rougher than normal.

She was extremely pale, even for her. Her hair was greasy from the lack of a shower and, was it just him, or was she a thinner than normal?

"She took one to the arm." Jin assessed darkly, his brow pinched as he tugged a knot over her arm. "The other one…it's too high."

Mugen didn't reply. His eyes were set on the torn, red hole in her once lavender shirt. Jin glanced to him before continuing. "We need to get her to a hospital."

Mugen snapped into action. It was if his brain was on autopilot. His hands slid hastily under the girl and pulled her awkwardly to his chest. Not once in all the times that he had slept with the many women of his past had he ever pull a woman up against his chest. They had pressed their faces into him, but he had never pulled them closer. More often than not he had pushed them away. The feel of the petite body against him was strange. It didn't help that she was bleeding all over him.

Connecting his eyes with the other fighter, Mugen nodded. "Your car."

Jin made a small noise of agreement and shot off for the door with the ex-gangster on his heels. Tumbling out into the street, they were met with a small crowd and a wet sky. Beneath the cover of their colorful umbrellas, people were pointing, talking on the phone, or snapping photos with their cells. The shattered window must have tipped them off. Mugen tried to shield the girl from the rain, but it was pouring like the flood in Genesis. Jin easily pushed through the inquisitive crowd with the help of pointing Fuu's bloody form to the spectators. Both fighters could hear the approaching sirens and feared the outcome of the days of events. Dropping into the back while Jin hopped into the driver's seat, the two men couldn't think beyond driving to the hospital at the fastest speed the Oldsmobile would allow.

A/N: Drama, Drama, Drama...