CHINA DOLL II-- GUNPOINT

CHINA DOLL II-- GUNPOINT

He sat in Flitwick's office, his hands in his lap as he stared blankly around the room at the mess of essays waiting to be graded. With a small twinge, he remembered the last time he had been in here, almost 17 years ago, submitting himself to a telling off from the blustering old Flitwick. Last time too, he had felt like the world was coming to a very rapid end, though detention in the hospital wing was nothing compared to what was waiting for him on the other side of the large oaken door, a door unbreakable, its latch a lock on his death. He only wished it was as unbreachable from the outside, to keep them away...

With a sickening scrape, the door slid open.

A wave of intense cold hit him as the dementor glided into the room, its black cloak rustling listlessly on the stone floor, the very stench of death hovering around it like aura. His legs moved when his mind could not and threw him as far away from it as possible, but it was too late... he fell to his knees...

...Sirius... an echo, an echo of a voice he had known so well...

The door slammed shut, and the dead bolt slid into place, the single scrape of metal upon metal amplified by his own panicked mind.

...Sirius... Do take care of yourself... Peter is somewhere safe...

There was no hope, there had never been any hope... for any of them James, Lily... Aiden... and now it was his turn...

...Take care of yourself, Sirius... We'll see you tomorrow...

The dementor towered over him, he could hear its rattling breath, feel it suck out his innermost self...

...of course the charm will work... Happy Halloween...

He was groveling before it on his hands and knees, powerless to resist, powerless to even move, even breathe as it bent down, a stench of decay filling his whole being. He wanted to scream, but his mouth wouldn't work right-- the dementor reached up, gripping its hood, and it pulled it back. Peter Pettigrew sneered at him... laughing... laughing...

"Sirius!"

Sirius opened his eyes with a start... and it all fell away, Flitwick's office, James's voice, Pettigrew... replaced by a deserted subway station in Madrid. His back hurt...

"Sirius!"

He glanced up, half-surprised to be staring into the clear blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore.


----


Vix was still polishing the bar when the door swung open with a rickety creak. Looking up, she suddenly had the undeniable impulse to run for cover. Orien had come for a visit.

Vix had known Orien since they were little more than babies, and understandably so. He was her brother. He was no longer the little boy who used pull her braids and steal her dolls. With his black leather jacket and crown of spikes, Orien looked more the type to steal her dolls and systematically execute them. She cringed inwardly at the bulge in his jacket pocket. With a man like Su Naoto as her father, Vix had been weaned on violence, and had been fighting ever since to get the bitter taste from her mouth. The fact that Orien had come to visit her armed did nothing to warm his welcome.

"Vix," Orien said, his face as unreadable as James Joyce.

"Orien," she said sarcastically, mimicking his intense glare.

He ignored her and sat down on one of the barstools, simply staring up at her. Finding his silence unnerving, Vix cleared her throat. "Do you want some coffee--" she stopped suddenly, cursing herself. Orien saw coffee as American, hence foreign, hence evil.

He stared at her coldly for a few seconds before replying in Cantonese, "No."

Vix stared at him for a few seconds before tuning back to the bar. "Why are you here?" she replied in English.

"You are going to get married," he said, once again in Chinese.

Vix gave a sudden snort, "What?"

In a movement so quick it took her completely by surprise, Orien reached out and grabbed her wrist-- hard. "Sho Seiji has asked our father for your hand in marriage. You will not disappoint him."

Vix managed to smile as she pried his fingers off her arm, "I'm afraid no one is getting my hand in marriage, Orien. Let alone Sho Seiji who I have never heard of in my life."

"He made 10 billion dollars in two years," Orien said rapidly. "He would make a good husband."

"And I'm sure you're an expert on what makes a good husband," Vix smirked at his arcane reasoning. "I'm sure with 10 billion in the bank Father won't be able to resist. All he has to do is make sure its willed to me and make it look like an accident."

Orien's eyes narrowed and she could see his trademark fury welling up beneath his skin, and oozing onto his speech, the sound of it almost tangible when he next spoke. "Su Naoto is a man of honor."

Vix rolled her eyes, trying desperately to ignore her brother's fury. "Su Naoto is a man of honor until money is involved... or Jonathan Whimsy," she added as an afterthought.

Vix could see Orien wrestling with his inner demons, fighting to keep his voice level. "You will marry Sho Seiji."

"In another lifetime," Vix smiled sweetly; knowing it would only fuel his anger. "Get out Orien, if you have nothing constructive to say. I have to work."

Without another word, Orien stood up and walked out of the grubby diner. Vix turned back to the bar, her head suddenly filled with more worries than she let on.


----


Isaac also was worried. Though usually nothing short of Armageddon could have gotten him out of bed at five in the morning, here he was running towards his Uncle's office. However, this miracle was far from his sphere of thought as Hong Kong raced past him. His Uncle Scott was dead... that he could accept. Isaac had never been close to Scott, in fact he had barely known him, but the fact that he head been murdered by Su Naoto stuck in his gut. If Naoto was on the move, he had allot more to fear to digest than the daily portion. Isaac just hoped that Uncle Jonathan could handle Naoto, on no means could they afford to loose their hold on the shipping industry--

Suddenly all went black. Isaac never knew what hit him.


----


Remus was trapped, hovering between the street corner and the diner. He wanted to go back, though the motivation seemed to spring from a well he couldn't see. But her dismissal had been final, the memory so crisp and starch in his mind he was afraid to soil it with another conversation. So he sat, suspended in limbo on the curb, amazed and disgusted at his own indecision.

With a slight sigh, he turned away from the restaurant and began to amble aimlessly down a narrow alley adjoining it. Its darkness was reflecting the darkness of his own introspection. Hong Kong had not been a good idea, he had cut himself adrift in a world where the money, customs, language were strange. Everything he had always taken for granted now seemed to be the greatest hurdle. But then again, hadn't escape been his aim?

Escape. Escape from the constant cycle of lies, betrayal and discovery. Then came the inevitable conclusion. No matter how much he strived to "prove" himself... how many people he tried to help, one false word and Remus Lupin was transformed into the monster under the bed. It all fell apart because of... what? One night every month? Did that make him any less of a human? Yet, as he leaned against the cold alley wall, he knew the answer. Yes. Yes... It completely negated any trace of his humanity, made him as much of a beast as the beetle crawling on his shoe. He was lying to walk the streets, trying to pass himself off as one of them. His whole life was built on lies. He was betrayed, by the very blood that coursed through his veins.

"Uhhh!"

Remus opened his eyes, unaware that he had even closed them and turned around. A figure in black was punching another steadily; they were already on their knees and would not last long, if even that.

"Hey!" he yelled before releasing it, "Hey!"

The black figure turned up, its face almost totally obscured by the alley's darkness. Remus suddenly regretted he had even opened his mouth but it was too late now to back down, the challenge had been issued. The man in black left his victim lying against the brick wall curled up in a fetal position, still whimpering mournfully. Remus took a step forward, feeling his throat grow dry as his adversary stepped into the light. He was Asian, with his black hair gelled into spikes and a black leather jacket that concealed any hidden weapons; of which, Remus was sure he had a number of. The man bared his teeth like a dog and gave a low growl in unmistakable Chinese. Remus inched backward a step as the man lunged....

...and struck home, his fist crashing into Remus's shoulder. He tried to step backwards again, but the attacker was an animal, punching him hard in the solar plexus. Remus fell to his knees with a grunt as the man beat him about the face with his fists. Finally waking up enough to move, Remus reached blindly and gripped his attacker's forearm, holding it still, but the man wrenched forward, biting Remus's knuckles.

Remus had never been much of a fighter, but the bite called upon the only thing in him that knew about dog eats dog, the law of the wild. He gave into the wolf. With a snarl that rivaled his opponent's, Remus jammed his fist up into the roof of his attacker's mouth, who let go with a wrench. Heedless of the blood trickling down his arm, Remus kept his hold on the man's forearm, and twisted it hard. He was rewarded with a small grown from his attacker, who was trashing wildly. Kicking him coldly to his knees, Remus grabbed the man's other arm and pushed him none too gently to the wall.

The man glared up at him defiantly before spitting put a mouthful of blood. "Whimsy," he hissed though the entrenching darkness. The word meant nothing to Remus, who stood in complete quiet trembling with fury, more at himself than at the snarling man before him. It had been years since he had... lost control like that. A small shiver ran through his frame, remembering the last time.

"Help me," Remus said finally, pushing the memory aside. He gestured to the limp body on the other side of the alley. "We're going to save a life."


----


It is no coincidence that you have never heard the phrase, "As pleasant as spilled coffee."

Vix was pouring a customer's coffee when she dropped the pot in surprise, spilling scalding hot liquid over the immaculate bar and grubby tile floor. Her early morning customer had returned. This time, he was not ordering tang. He had a body in his arms... a body whose feet were being carried by none other than Orien. The man pushed through the diner, who took in his bleeding arm, torn clothing and black eye and scooted a few feet away. Without a second glance at them, the man heaved the body onto the countertop, with Orien's help... right on top of the spilled coffee. Vix stared, simply shell-shocked from the man... to Orien... to the body... and back again. Her one-time customer looked up and met her gaze, his gray eyes tired and lined, and a bruise already blossoming around one. "Do you have a fellytone?"

"A what?" Vix said, feeling a wave of confusion mingle with her initial horror.

"A..." the man looked rather embarrassed," place to... call... the doctor."

"Um... yes," she stammered, her gaze flitting rather instinctively to Orien, who was staring at the man with a murderous glint in his eye. She couldn't leave them alone, not with Orien's record. "Does anyone have a cell phone?" Vix raised her voice to address the diner.

"I'll call--" a pale-faced woman in the corner said, raising her hand like a schoolgirl.

Vix nodded and in one swift movement, knocked all the china off the bar, neither moving nor caring when it broke into a million different pieces, she had wanted to do that for years. With the gray-eyed man's help, she pulled the unconscious body into a more stable position. Passed out and battered, it was a young man who couldn't have been more than twenty-five. His bright blond hair now matted and stained with blood.

"He's still alive," her customer said huskily, pulling off his awful blue jacket. "I found him in the alley..." as he trailed off, his eyes flickered ever so briefly to Orien.

Vix could have guessed what happened. It had happened enough times before. "What did you do?" she snapped to Orien, who fixed her with his bone-breaking stare almost immediately.

"He was one of Whimsy's," Orien shrugged nonchalantly, as if it were some sort of excuse.

"Do you know how this is going to reflect on me personally? On my business?" Vix hissed, raging fury filling her as her heart rate raced.

"If you marry Seiji it would be of no consequence," Orien replied his voice so low it was almost inaudible.

"Listen to me!" Vix growled in frustration, aware of the diner's prying eyes now focused singly on the two of them, lapping up their every word with eager tongues. "I am not marrying Seiji, not now, not ever! I'm already getting married." It seemed like a plausible excuse.

Orien's face remained as impassive as ever, "To who?"

Vix was frozen for a second, but then she reached out and randomly grabbed her mysterious customer's shoulder, who was staring from sibling to sibling in complete confusion. Pity she wouldn't make it any easier for him. "Orien, I would like you to meet my fiancé." The man opened his mouth, as if to say something, or protest, but somehow he caught her urgency and managed to twist it into something resembling a guilty grin. Vix breathed a sigh of relief and lowered her eyes to where Orien's victim lay, sprawled across the bar.

A slight but distinct click, followed by a collective gasp brought them up again. Orien was holding his gun and aiming straight at her fiancé. The safety was off. "I can take care of that," he sneered in English.

Orien heard a click behind him, and felt something metal press into the side of his head. He didn't even have to turn to know it was the barrel of a gun. "Try..." a voice whispered in his ear. "Just try..."