Side Story (N)

Night Watch

March 4th, 2008 11:19 p.m.

We choose our own fate; that was what you said to me.

Since that day, I've been dancing through the fire that you left in my hands, taking responsibility for the future I see on the distant horizon of a new world. It makes me wonder why I waited so long, sitting quietly in the shadows, so agreeable with the unfortunate lot I'd been dealt.

There was a time in my previous life that I thought nothing was more important than communication. Thanking you for your hand would be so easy. But I know you don't want my words.

I'm beginning to learn more and more each day that words are empty without passion, so in honour of the gift you placed next to my heart that night, I will burn brighter than a thousand suns by your side and with an unrivalled intensity.

My purpose is greater than any star because it is yours.

I am your hunter. I am your lion.

And now it's time for this cold world to hear me roar.

It had become a ritual of sorts. Like ancient times for primal tribesmen, thick dark lashes fluttered over the permanent warpaint inked on Neirah's cheeks just beneath her sharp half-lidded leer. And a fire raged, but not in tribute. These flames roared deep within her core, boiling her blood, and preparing to offload the stress of the pressure in the kinetic release of coiled muscles. Her humid breath hissed past her flared nostrils like exhaust, and glossy lips reflected city lights as they framed her pearly grin.

She was a hunter. The musty barred windows before her were her reeds as she stalked from side to side, tasting the smooth surface of her eager fangs while she prepared to sink them into her meal. As puddles formed outside, the paved yard separating her from her target was a crystalline pool reflecting the hunger in her eyes as they burned with purpose. Like hyenas ignorantly cackling, the men laughing and spewing triumphant vulgarities while they offloaded a tractor-trailer were her unsuspecting prey. Outside of their comprehension, they taunted her to take action, so she had every intention of intervening.

When she parted her smile to moan her success, an inhuman merowl susurrated into a twisted form of gratified laughter. Her reality had skewed, but she didn't feel the slightest shame for her delusion. It was quite the opposite. Nothing could make her prouder than serving her king in the best way she knew how, by protecting his territory with the entirety of her lethal abilities. His will was her will, and her success was his.

"I hope you boys wore your best suits this evening," she purred sinisterly under her breath. "It's not every day you take a lady out for dinner only to become the main dish."

On the slab of tin roof garnishing her cover, the rain was melodic, the gentle patter soothing as she backed away from the concrete jungle outside the store-shed window. The room was dark, and from somewhere, a chilly breeze leaked through the drafty walls. There was nothing she hated more than the cold and listening to its sinister whisper seeping through her skin. She knew it wanted in. That cold she had worked so hard to banish wanted to be deeper. It struggled to seize her bones like it used to before she'd melted the ice encasing her wild spirit. But it flexed its might in vain against her untamed soul. So long as she had a smile in her heart, a fire in her eyes, she would burn.

Still, the presence was haunting and exhilarating all at the same time, because even as the frost kissed her skin with a seductive promise of failure, she was reminded of all the times she'd conquered it. She was a lion, and as luminescent sapphire gems revealed themselves to be highlighted lavender with the flame and ocean's collision, she was ready to hunt.

She folded her lean body over her front, raising one leg perpendicular to the floor straight above where her fingers dusted her toes. Like a dancer in slippers, she pointed the toe of her leather boot, straining the stretch until she felt like the muscles had loosened in preparation for her to twist in inhuman ways. Outside the window, a large vehicle passed, causing the musty walls around her to tremble as she snapped her alert gaze towards the dusty glass pane. Her eyes remained fixed on the disappearing illumination as she slowly lowered her toes to the ground like her life's soundtrack was at its cadence.

"You're early tonight." Neirah's vigilant senses noticed her upturned PDA flashing in the centre of the empty floor, and she let a musical hum of acknowledgment escape her lips. "Mn, but you're just on time, as usual."

Neirah slowly walked over her hands before coiling her body against the dank concrete beneath her and seizing the only source of light in the room. She was in no particular hurry once she'd answered the call, and after letting about fifteen seconds pass, her thin grin was growing menacing. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd gotten my message," she drawled in a mock-sultry tone. "But if you're calling me now, I'll assume it served its purpose."

"It's not funny, Neirah." On the other side of the line, Izumo's hard tone was muffled like he was trying to keep his words from reaching nosy ears. That was how she knew he was still serving clientele while simultaneously managing spirited red clansmen like herself. "I don't recall solo-infiltration being part of our arrangement. So now, you've got two options. High-tail it out of there or keep your scrawny butt in that spot until I can get you some backup."

From where Neirah spread her legs in a horizontal split, she rocked to either side with her mobile attached to her ear, her second hand deepening the roving stretch. "You know I'm not a very patient person. Not even King-sama will have enough time to stop me before the deed is done."

"You seem pretty sure of yourself," he prompted interestedly under his breath. "What'd you find?"

"Because you asked so nicely," she mocked in a derisive coo. "The last time Kamamoto-kun and I had lunch with Ōta-san, he mentioned that he noticed something strange happening with the regular shipments coming in at the market across the street." Even as she divulged, she kept her ears open to absorb the conversation coming from outside the walls of her cover, so that she didn't miss her opportunity. "He wasn't sure if it was related to the whole fiasco earlier this month, at first, because the sales took place on the opposite end of town, but after happening by for a couple of nights, I figured out how they managed to sneak one by us."

"So, you've been stalkin' these guys for a while."

Her sly expression shot to one side as her cheeks dusted with notes of her guilt. "Stalking is a strong word."

When Izumo noticed that his final customer was on their way out, he waved with an apologetic smile, hoping that they weren't insulted that he wasn't very attentive with his duties outside of his clan. He was relieved not to have to murmur his command since they'd departed, meaning that he could pack more urgency into his threats when he spoke them "And just when were you plannin' on tellin' me all this?"

She shrugged innocently from across town. "When I had something interesting to say," she admitted coyly. "I know how busy you are, so I didn't find it appropriate to divulge every other day."

To comprehend that she'd snuck out from under his thumb for longer than he'd realized, Izumo's grip on his PDA tightened. "You think you found something interesting then?" Back at HOMRA, he snapped his fingers to get Mikoto's attention, and when that didn't work, he pitched a damp rag at him instead. "Keep talkin'." Once he'd roused his beast of a king from his nap, he took out a notepad, pinching his mobile between his ear and shoulder as he jotted down her location. He didn't need to trace her phone with information as prominent as she'd just divulged in. "How do you figure they're movin' them?"

"In plain sight." Neirah raised from the centre of the floor and casually approached the side of her cover, listening to the voices grow faint like they did every night for the past two weeks around that time. "The trucks that carry the product drop their promised load, noting that the remainder of their haul is destined for another business uptown. They keep the trucks here overnight and then move their payload in broad daylight. If I had to hazard a guess, it's likely that the storefront manager is in on it too, but that doesn't interest me much when I've already located the source."

Izumo startled to think that Neirah had stumbled upon the root of the operation they'd scuffled with earlier that month, and his gaze thinned to consider where her thoughts might be going. "Wait, so you're just going to stow away in the truck until morning and have them deliver you with the rest of their haul?" With a bitter hiss, he tore off the piece of paper and slammed it on the top of the bar in front of his lazy king. "You little idiot. That'll put you right in front of their noses in broad daylight."

With a soft titter, Neirah watched the receiving door to the grocery store slide open before twirling through her cover with a satisfied hum. "Onii-chan is too small-minded. I already told you that I have no patience, so I'm just going to pay our boys at your friendly local supermarket a visit and see why it is they feel the need to traffic loads of illegal arms to minors."

It was one thing for prohibited weapon sales to take place, but something that Neirah couldn't stand was the thought that the mafia members responsible were sucking impressionable adolescents into a life of crime. It was something she kept close to her heart, so when she'd caught wind of the corruption, her feet moved before she had time to think. It wasn't entirely different from what had happened after Izumo explained to her what her previous clan was up to.

Suddenly, her fiery glower sharpened, and the humour drained from her face. "If you send King-sama after me, you'll only complicate things," she promised him sternly. "So, Kusanagi-san? Please tell Tat-chan that I'll be out late again tonight."

Izumo choked on his furious hiss the moment the line went dead, and he was so enraged with their young huntress that he slammed the thin electronic down onto the bar over the address for her location. "That snarky little brat," he snapped bitterly. "What part of I'm your boss, didn't she get?!"

A humbly disjointed expression remained on Mikoto's face as he flipped Izumo's phone up and slid the paper out from beneath it, checking the location Izumo was about to divulge. "S' this where she's at?"

Izumo's hands were flat on the bar, his shoulder's heaving as he tried to settle his roiled nerves. Once he was complacent again, he slowly tipped his gaze towards his casual king's curiosity. "Yeah," he muttered bleakly. He leaned away from the hardwood and slipped a new pack of cigarettes out of his breast pocket, letting his consideration roam over his quiet workspace as he peeled off the cellophane wrapper. It seemed that Neirah had been communicating with one of their most reliable informants outside of his notice, and something about that split him down the middle with frustration and pride. "The place she's talkin' about is across from that tattoo studio downtown. He inks a lot of the Yakuza bosses, and so far, he's managed to keep his nose, so he's gotta be good at playing the game."

With a low growl, Izumo snapped his lighter open and ignited his much-needed selection. "The guy that runs the place is buddies with Kamamoto, and it's where she got all her enhancements done, so the three of them are tight."

Mikoto's dry snort came out whimsically enough that it might have sounded like he was entertained. "Enhancements?" he prodded. "Is that what the kids are calling them these days?"

"That damn kid is going to drive me to drink." After picking his light from between his teeth, Izumo puffed out the smoke in his lungs and flapped his fingers towards his king to shoo him along his way. "Just do me a favour and go bail her out, would ya?"

Once he'd lazily tipped his calculating amber leer towards the paper in his hand, Mikoto smiled and ignited the sheet, causing his irritable second to grunt with impatient fury. Despite the clamour of his aggravated associate, Mikoto closed his eyes and lowered both arms to fold against the polished rosewood. "You said she was gonna drive you to drink, right? Pour me one too while you're at it."

The barkeep's tone flattened. "Are you serious right now?"

"'Bout as serious as she is," Mikoto rumbled absolutely. "Y' know it wouldn't kill you to have a little faith."

"Oh yeah? Well, it wouldn't kill you to take a little responsibility," Izumo muffled out around his returned smoke.

"King, are you two fighting over Nei-chan again?" Tatara sang upon inviting himself into their conversation. With a playful giggle, his smile broadened, and he sat in the stool next to his monarch. "I guess that means she's not going to be home for kawara senbei and tea."

A discontented Izumo cocked a brow at the dauntingly upbeat man interrupting their rumbles. "Midnight snack?"

Tatara nodded his head rapidly with a soft coo. "Mhm! I just learned how to make them the other day, and they turned out surprisingly okay! Nei-chan and I always talk over tea before bed anyway, so I thought they'd make the perfect snack."

A low and entertained hum caused Mikoto's lips to curl up on one side even though his closed eyes had yet to peek at the boy to join him. "So, in other words, they're inedible."

Tatara shook like he was insulted, but his candid smile didn't fade. "That was harsh! I bet you'd like them if you tried!"

"No, thanks."

The light dangle of ash-brown bangs on Tatara's brow dusted the bar when he dropped his head with shame. "No faith…"

Izumo couldn't help but smile at their banter. It wasn't unlike what he'd been dealing with for the last few years of his life between the three of them seated just the way they were; Mikoto at his front, Tatara to his right. "But that's wrong, Totsuka," he teased with a lightening heart. "Mikoto here sure is full of faith in our little lion."

"Well, of course, he is!" Tatara brayed delightedly. "That's why he went back on his word and made her his clansman." He turned his confident smile over his shoulder to face his disinterested leader. "Isn't that right, King?"

"You just have it all figured out, don't you?"

The pleased giggle filling Tatara's chest was airy as he absorbed the edge in his king's tone. "Kusanagi-san worries too much. Nei-chan will be alright, you'll see."

In a way, it irritated Izumo to consider how contagious Tatara's state of mind was. When he had told Neirah that he was hoping she'd pick up some of Tatara's traits, the rushing head-first into danger alone attribute was not the desirable option. "Honestly, Totsuka, I think we have you to thank for this," he chastised bitterly. "I think she's picked up at least half of it from you."

A faint groan filled Tatara's chest as he pouted. "But you say that like it's a bad thing."

Izumo dropped his gaze to observe their reflections interacting over the polished rosewood surface of his bar, and it was all he could do to contain his endearing smile. "Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. I just don't know how she ever managed before without you there to cheer her on. It's like you're the fuel she needs to keep on burnin'."

There was a weight in Tatara's vacant half-lidded gaze as he folded his arms over the bar and leaned on their support with a humbling smile. "You're wrong, Kusanagi-san," he murmured tenderly. "Nei-chan was great before she ever met me. She'll always be great." Noticing that Izumo's brow had furrowed with concern, Tatara's expression brightened as he raised it to meet the interrogation directly. "So just believe in her like King and me, okay?"

For a moment, Izumo lingered on the uncertainty of the situation. He worried that maybe Tatara and Mikoto were more concerned than they pretended to be, but then, after an instant of dawdling consideration, he smiled towards their mighty leader. If Mikoto wasn't making a fuss over Neirah's situation, there wasn't a lot that Izumo could do about it. Instead, he decided to make light of the case alongside his friends. "Somehow, I don't think Mikoto has the capacity to believe in anything quite like you do, Totsuka."

"At least I have a vessel." Mikoto didn't raise his attention even after Tatara burst into enchanted hysterics for what he considered snarky backtalking.

"Ooo! That's two, King!" Tatara brayed delightedly. With a mild grin, Tatara closed his eyes and clapped his hands together, bowing his head sheepishly to the sight of Izumo's budding ire. "Sorry, Kusanagi-san, but you have to admit, you are pretty cynical sometimes."

Izumo threw his head to one side to divert his view from the small and entertained smirk lighting up Mikoto's face to Tatara's instigation. "Vessels and vassals are two completely different things, Your Highness," he snorted curtly. "Think before you try to get smart."

Mikoto bowed his head with a cocky grin as he considered the hard tone of his second's voice. "The kid's right. You are too small-minded." He ignored the skeptical leer from across the bar as he slowly opened his eyes and curled his lips up to one side, examining Tatara's reflection in the mirrored hardwood surface between them. "There's nothing that says they can't serve the same purpose."

Tatara seemed interested in what his king had said in a way that made his eyes sparkle, but even through his keen marvelling, he didn't interject like would be typical for him. Sometimes it was difficult to know when Mikoto was genuine or sly, but if anyone could hear the underlying sentiment behind his carefully selected words, it was Tatara. It was that constant reminder that even if he was weak, he was needed; that's what kept him going. It also helped him stand tall by the side of a man who had always been far more significant than he was.

But it was because of the same attuned senses that he also heard the silent plea murmuring in the noble proclamation. Even if he didn't admit it outwardly, he was anxious. He would worry about anyone of his roaming pack. That was when Tatara felt needed the most, so after he absorbed his humbled king's earnest meaning, his smile returned in force. "King believes in many things, Kusanagi-san!" he nearly cheered. "That's why he needs us all to do our best, just like Nei-chan."

When he locked his kind eyes with Izumo over the bar, his cheery grin softened with sincerity. "Don't worry. It will all work out somehow."

Paper bills being shuffled and counted made a rather distinct sound, especially at the speeds they were being dealt that night in a quiet office at the back of the blackened market. The warehouse was stacked with perishable product ready to be prepared for the next day's shoppers, but it remained in hibernation while lean fingers counted out stacks of money having nothing to do with the fish and produce.

"Three hundred." His dry murmur sounded like it had been harshened by too many years with a cigarette between his yellowed teeth as he peeked through his cloud of smoke and slapped the pay into the hands of their courier. "Three hundred thousand yen. You'll get the rest uptown, as usual."

After receiving his typical wage, the driver addressed began to fan the stack with his calloused thumb, and a displeased frown found his face. "Y' know, I've been doin' some thinking."

The man who had offered him compensation clicked his tongue and leaned back in his seat, removing his smoke from his teeth to knock the ashes lazily from the end. "That doesn't sound too good for business." His tone deepened with a bristly warning. "You don't get paid to think."

"I barely get paid to drive anymore," came the near-growl retort. "It's gettin' harder to pass checks out there these days. I spend a lotta time takin' sideroads just to avoid 'em."

"And this is somehow our fault?"

Another man in a navy suit leaned into the conversation, folding his hands with his elbows resting on his knees. "Matsuzaki-san, are you aware of what happens when we have to expend the effort in finding a new means of transport for our wares?"

The moment the driver heard the rattle of steel weapons drawing from the party of five inside the office, he quickly jolted his arm to his hip and withdrew a previously concealed pistol to aim at their boss. "Look! I didn't say I wouldn't keep doin' it! It's just getting' tough, is all, and a guy's gotta eat."

A curt chortle filled their leader's throat when he raised his hand and waved off the assault that prepared to decorate their associate with pretty holes. "You do, don't you?" he droned thoughtfully. "Here. Consider this a tip for your stellar service."

Picking up the tail of an iced tuna from the cracked crate by his side, the man pitched the weighty beast into his disgruntled cohort. The small office filled with derisive cackling as the driver was stricken by the meaty fish and collapsed outside of the doorway. Filled with sheer humiliation, the enraged driver armed himself again and took aim through the open entry. "Son-of-a-bitch, you'll regret that!"

Suddenly, the laughter subsided to the sound of steel ringing outside the office, but they didn't seem concerned when they adjusted their attention to see the driver taking aim from the floor. Instead, the transporter joined the other members in peering into the dark warehouse, where the conspicuous thump strategically alerted them to movement.

One of the mafia elitists stepped into the doorway, beating the firearm from the distracted driver's hand before peering into the black. "Oi! Is someone here?" When he noticed that the fish had flopped past his feet in a hurry, he leaned down and captured the collar of their hired hand to prevent him from fleeing. "You bastard! Who'd you bring down here?!"

"No one!" he barked intolerantly. "But if it's the cops, I just wanna get the fuck out of here before they lump me in with the lot of you!"

"It's too late for that!" his captor thundered. "If they're onto us, then they've already seized your truck, so where the hell do you think you're gonna run to, huh!?"

"Maybe if you paid me better, I coulda avoided more checks!"

The bickering silenced again when the sound of deep clacking began to beat rhythmically against the concrete foundation of the chilled storage unit. If the lot had squinted intensely enough, they might have caught the sight of luminescent crimson pupils making sapphire irises glow lilac. Unfortunately, none of them were expecting a young woman to be the intrusion on their conversation.

"Now, now, gentlemen…" Neirah could feel her smile twisting outside of their comprehension as she approached, snapping the excess gasoline from her lean fingers where she'd picked it up off the can she'd finished emptying a moment prior. "I'm sure we can come to some sort of agreement, no?"

"What the fuck!? How did she get in here!?"

A low wave of laughter tickled the woman's chest beneath the exposed mark of her master. "That's easy," she sassed under her breath. "He let me in."

The man who had captured their transport associate quickly thrust his prey back to the ground, seething fury as he drew his handgun and aimed it at the man's broad chest. "Matsuzaki, you idiot! What'd you bring your fucking kid down here or somethin'?!"

"Like hell!" The driver spat irksomely. "The brat's not with me, and I know for a fact that I didn't let her in, so how do I know she's not one of yours!?"

"Oh, I can answer that too." There was a sultry drawl in Neirah's even tone as she halted her steady stride and cocked one hip out to hitch her fingers upon. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the pressure shifting in the room as her blood began to boil, fueling the flames that calmly overtook her body's relaxed silhouette. "My heart belongs only to HOMRA."

After listening to the startled gasps of their gathering convert to panic, Neirah's thick lashes fluttered delicately over her seductive crimson leer. "Any other questions before we begin?"

From inside the office, their leader thrust his finger towards the doorway and bellowed his command. "She's with the monster! Take her out before she calls the rest of those little punks! I don't need them meddling in my business!"

"Right!"

The sound of gunshots split the air, and from where he'd lingered with his back to the uproar, the driver they'd previously employed was pelted out of the way by bullets aiming for the lone hunter. In a matter of moments, his lifeless carcass had collapsed in the front doorway, but his unintentional guard had allowed Neirah a makeshift smokescreen. During the window of time she'd been granted, she let out a flirtatious giggle before leaping straight into the air. Once she was near enough, she latched on to a thick steel ducting channel, sinking her fingertips into the galvanized surface before curling her midriff around the rectangular shaft. Once her core had contracted, she used the momentum to spring from her fingers and centre her gravity over the perch with both feet spread to brace on two secure supports.

From below, she saw one of the armed men reload his clip and poke his head out of the doorway over the mass of flesh they'd silenced. "Oops, that was clumsy." She silently delighted in the sheer terror on her enemy's face when she ignited, withdrawing her golden chain weapon in a burst of fiery brilliance. Despite the sound of his teammate popping off a shot in her direction, she bolted through the hissing of exhaust escaping the punctured ventilation system.

By the time her links had seared through the man's shirt into his chest, he was already being dragged into the warehouse out of his cowering ally's reach. After drawing him into her territory over their fallen transporter, she jerked on her weapon to unbind her opponent. As he toppled off-balance, Neirah snagged the arm he used to hold his gun, twisting to jar it between his shoulders with a sickening crack. She ducked by his hollering side to avoid the shots being peppered at her through the entrance, and once she'd secured her utility, she kicked his legs out from beneath him and shoved him to one side.

In doing so, his twisted arm was facing in the perfect direction to fire off shots of her own towards his network. Her first fired round missed, so she called it a warning shot, but her second buried itself into the first enemy's shoulder. The third split another's hand. Her next two ripped into the thigh of the last of their cowering leader's backup, so that left her with one bullet remaining.

She gave her puppet's shoulder another hard twist until he was yelping with dislocating pain, and took careful aim down the centre of the doorway where she saw her final target hiding behind a hefty oak desk. She straightened her arm and closed one eye, her pink tongue peeking past her lips like she was deep in concentration. She'd pulled off the final shot to the sound of the man's overwhelmed shriek, but it was apparent that she was no master marksman.

"How disappointing." With a delicate snort denoting her failure, she cracked the empty weapon against the nape of her prisoner to put him to sleep before she flipped the firearm out to one side and let it clatter over the floor. "I guess I'll have to do this the old-fashioned way." She strutted past the commotion and disarmed each of the moaning men, draining their weapons of ammunition with a musical clatter. "Ah, pardon my reach." With a sinfully polite smile, she reached past one man's belt as he clutched his bleeding thigh. She removed his backup weapon and emptied the clip just the same.

When she finished her task, she straightened with a gentle hum of triumph. "Now then, with that out of the way, perhaps we can discuss that agreement."

Their leader peeked over the side of his desk as she took a seat on the edge of the hardwood top, folding one leg over the other as she admired her morbid handiwork. "A-agreement?" he stammered out hesitantly. "So, you were with Matsuzaki?"

An innocent hum filled her voice as she turned over her shoulder to face his confusion. "Heavens no," she delicately cooed. "The agreement that I came here to broker has nothing to do with your peons."

Carefully shuffling behind the desk, the boss let the sounds of his agonized comrades fill the office with distraction as he moved for the lowest drawer of his desk to claim the reserve firearm he knew was stashed there. "Then… what is it you came here for then? This doesn't have anything to do with the Red Monster."

Neirah ignorantly tipped her curious gaze around the office as she felt the rage bubble up within her. "You know, I never much cared for that label. But then, I suppose, to you, we might look like monsters."

He carefully drew back the drawer, refusing to take his gaze off of her as he felt around the paper contents. He was focussed on staling for a little more time so that he could claim his last defence. "If you're not monsters, what are you then?"

Neirah smiled at his consideration as her sharp senses hummed to life. "We-"

The moment he ripped his hand back and aimed his weapon, Neirah's palms flexed by her hips, giving her the strength and balance to swing her legs above her head as he took his first shot. By the time that one had missed and he was chasing her leap with a second, she'd sprung backwards, folding her body over his shoulders until it had delivered her safely behind his back. Before he could get the third shot off, she had already withdrawn the golden kunai from her rear waistline, pinching it against his whimpering pulse.

"We have the hearts of lions," she whispered close to his ear. "And we hate to be interrupted."

"I-I'm sorry!"

"Put it down." She smiled slyly when the man responded, letting the weapon clatter to the floor before holding up his hands in surrender. "Good boy," she purred. "Now, I don't see why we can't have a nice, quiet discussion about your interest in arming our good town's minors. And I suggest you make it quick because I have tea and crackers waiting for me at home." She carefully peeked the man's potential backup to make sure they weren't getting brave, and when she realized they would just be happy to survive, she tightened her pressure against the knife.

The humour drained from her tone and expression as she continued in a low growl. "I should warn you that I'm not a very patient person. And this is a particularly touchy subject for me, so choose your words wisely. Otherwise, lions and monsters aren't going to look much different through my flames."

"What do you want me to say?!" he demanded frantically. "We're in it for the money! The people who buy off us are already screwed up, so it's not like we have any intention of corrupting anyone."

A dismal groan accompanied Neirah's dimming expression as she stared past his rambling. "An honest miscalculation then," she nearly whispered. "It looks like I haven't made it to the top yet."

"W-what?"

She lessened the pressure of her threat and tilted her playful beam towards his shifty observation. "You don't seem very proud of your purpose," she mused. "What a shame. Wouldn't your leader be disappointed if he could hear how pitiful you sounded right now?" She poked the tip of her blade into the underside of his chin and encouraged him to look at her. "I might be persuaded to keep your secret if you tell me who you're working for."

"Boss! Get down!"

The humour drained from Neirah's expression in an instant when she locked her airborne gaze on the assault of her stirring aggressors. Her armed threat hadn't managed to track her ascent when she leapt from behind the desk, and she could tell he was struggling to locate her in a burst of flames.

By the time she'd been located, her thighs were a breath away from his skin, and before he could take proper aim, she cracked the bones of his forearm hard enough to make him screech. The weapon rattled to the floor towards their stirring members, so Neirah flipped backwards to give chase. The heel of her boot landed perfectly in the centre of the wounded hand to reach for it, causing another bark of pain to fill the night as she snapped the toe of her boot across his jaw and claimed the pistol.

After whirling to pitch her elegant kunai across the office to keep their boss from attempting to flee, she moved to empty the clip a second time, only to realize that there was no ammunition left. The only shot fired from the gun had missed her, and it frustrated her further to think that she was chased by a bluff.

When she turned to glower at her host, the heat of her flames continued to intensify until the steel was liquifying in between her fingers and dripping onto one of their debilitated allies. "I suppose I wasted my time then, didn't I?" she rumbled rhetorically. "If you don't have anything interesting to say, then I'll take my leave."

"What was the point of that?!" their leader bayed intolerantly. He threw his hands over his head to dodge bits of Gyproc as it began to crackle in surrender to the heat of her flames. "You stalked us all that time to ruin our good thing, and now you're just walking away?!"

"Stalked is a strong word," she murmured. "HOMRA's lioness simply hunts when she's hungry. She doesn't run on a schedule. I already told you that this was a subject close to my heart." Her eyes darkened, expression twisting with malcontent. "And my heart burns for a king who's particularly dissatisfied with you and your friends causing problems in Shizume, so consider this a warning."

The man's gaze tapered on the sight of her burning hips swaying upon her exit, completely bemused that she'd caused such a fuss only to walk away. Then, the palpitations of his heartbeat in his chest gagged him to the sight of her flaming silhouette spreading the moment her heeled boot connected with a crafted gasoline fuse. In the next instant, the warehouse had gone up in flames, igniting the night to mark her territory.

Neirah could hear the sounds of alarms and sirens sounding in her ears as she strutted away from the mess she'd made, but her spirits couldn't help lifting. Unlike her enemies, she was proud of what she'd managed to accomplish. She didn't feel the slightest guilt over her actions. She hadn't managed to locate the origin of the trafficking operation dealing weapons to their town's youth, but she felt pretty confident that the fear she'd instilled in the hearts of the men struggling to escape with their lives would spread.

She didn't look back as rescue crews worked to douse the wild flames behind her. In the end, the entire situation would be incriminating enough to see that one leg of the operation she'd discovered was severed. To the authorities, it would look like a deal gone sour, and the Red Clan would be void of involvement. It was the freedom to do what she thought was right.

That was her self-appointed task. With the power she had received from her king, she extended her claws and sank them into the bark of organized crime to mark their territory. She was a hunter, and anyone who would dare cross her king would inevitably become her prey.

Because she was a lion…

and nothing meant more to her than her pride.