The First Hell
"Who dares enter the domain of Yen-Lo-Wang, King of the Nine Hells?!" the synthesized voice boomed through the corridor.
"I am Renard Thornblade, sworn enemy of the honorless dog Chang Lo Kai, loyal servant to the true ruler of China, Chang Wufei II!"
"Enter then, the realm of Yen-Lo-Wang, enter the Nine Hells to meet your fate!"
The door swung open with a gust of wind. As the 'voice' of Yen-Lo-Wang faded away, Renard walked slowly, his right pinky swaying with the movement of his body.
He turned to enter a huge chamber, light with hundreds of candles, casting a dull glow over the stone labyrinth.
Renard Thornblade walked up to the man in front of him, an elderly man with a stubbled gray beard on his chin.
He narrowed his eyes, "Who are you, you do not have clearance here!"
Renard smirked, "Yen-Lo-Wang granted me entrance. From what I have heard, your computer system has a mind of its own."
The man snarled but it quickly changed to a broad grin as Renard drew away half of his kimono to reveal the tattoo on his chest. "I am Renard Thornblade, yakuza lord of the Americas. I come to serve the Wolf."
As Renard tied the sash on his kimono, the old man nodded, "You do not look Japanese," he stated, noting Renard's brown hair and eyes.
"Nor do you look Chinese," he said with a smile.
The man grinned again, his green eyes sparkling, "Too true, Thornblade-sama."
He motioned to the two small bowls filled with a clear liquid in front of him, "Please drink, Thornblade-sama," he said genuinely.
Renard eyed him suspiciously, staring hard at each of the bowls. He grinned after surveying the right bowl. Without hesitation he plucked it up and took a long draft of it, sucking down the strong sake easily.
His eyes wide, the old man shook his head, "I thought a yakuza was cleverer than that.
"Cleverer than you, old man. Your poison is too obvious, and I have built up immunity to nearly fifty neuro and hemo toxins. I do not doubt that Chang Lo Kai has done the same. He is a tyrannical greedy bastard, but he is no fool."
The man nodded, "Rarely does fate allows a foolish enemy."
Renard grunted in agreement, "More often foolish minions," he said, glancing to the black garbed assassins that seemed to melt with the shadows.
The old man snorted, "Bah! They are the best men ever, skilled at seeing without being seen, killing without being killed."
"Then explain to me why the last job was so sloppily done?"
The old man grimaced at the thought. A team had struck at a squad of Chang's SS Troopers, killing all of them without a trace, or so they thought.
Days later the killers were traced and managed to escape with the loss of two. Whether they had been captured or killed was unbeknownst to the man or his colleagues.
"It brings much shame to the Wolf to fail in its hunt. . ."
"Then I shall have to change that, give me ten of your best assassins, I want a pair of shuttles booked to take all of us the LaGrange 2. Put 5 on one and 5 on the other, I'll accompany one of them.
"After you've got these warriors chosen, pair them with another that is a higher skill level so they can compensate for one anothers weaknesses and strengths, I want very few guns, only a few skilled snipers, make sure they have silencers."
The man raised his eyebrows, "You ask much, how long do I have to gather these resources?"
Renard shrugged, "As long as the heir the Chang Lo Kai's throne is in the L2 area."
His eyes went as wide as saucers, "The heir to the throne?! Surely such a bold act is foolhardy! He is to well guarded to kill!"
"I do not intend to kill him," he said.
The old man let out a sigh of relief.
"Yet," Renard hissed demonically.
"Katsuhiro, this is Renard, we've got several shady characters at your six, keep an eye on them.'
Katsuhiro casually turned around. Immediately the three men at the bar ceased looking at him and feigned a conversation, making hand gestures as if discussing sports.
He reached into his jacket, pulling the hammer back on his pistol. He pulled out a handkerchief and pretended to blow his nose.
Renard nodded from his perch, then stole a glance at the sniper across the rafters.
The man, Murasame, came from America and had received training in the Army Ranger program as a sniper. His rifle rested across his knees. He had a bullet balanced on his finger. Renard snickered, the boy is always practicing.
"Murasame!"
"Yes?" he replied, continuing to balance the shell on his fingertip.
"Get ready, the prince should be making his entrance very soon."
Murasame nodded and stuffed the bullet in his pocket, grabbing his rifle and shouldering the weapon, making some quick adjustments to the scope.
He stuffed a clip of five rounds in and drew his sword, laying on the rafter beside him.
"Katsuhiro, do you have your silencer?"
"Affirmative."
"Good, take the bodyguard at the front of the procession, Murasame take the one in the back, then work your way down the light. I'll signal the rest of the team when its clear, understood?"
"Roger that," Katsuhiro said.
"Yes sir," Murasame said in a serious tone.
Everyone rose as the prince entered, surrounded by bodyguards with heavy pistols concealed inside their jackets.
"Wait until the reach the central area."
As the entourage approached the elaborate mosaic in the center of the floor, Murasame raised his rifle and Katsuhiro reached into his jacket.
"Now!" he yelled into his radio.
Murasame fired, knocking the rear guard back with an expert shot to his skull.
Before the guards could bring out their weapons Katsuhiro opened fire with his pistol taking two down before they even noticed he was there.
He emptied out his clip on two others as Murasame took aim and fired, the round taking a bodyguard in the gut.
Katsuhiro tossed his gun in the air and caught it on the barrel, then hurled it expertly at the wounded man. The gun struck his head with a crack, and Katsuhiro quickly drew his knife from his jacket, rushing the man and grabbing the collar of his jacket to steady himself.
With a sickening gurgle the man fell to the ground, his hands clutched at his throat, blood pouring onto the floor.
Katsuhiro ducked as a man took a swing at him. He came up from his crouch and drove the knife into the bodyguard's chest.
Sanguine liquid ran over the hilt and into Katsuhiro's hand. He drew forth the blade and held it reversed in his hand, twirling around with it and raking the blade across the abdomen of one man, stabbing it into the lung of another.
Murasame squeezed the trigger and the bullet skipped off a column, ricocheting into a guest's leg.
"Damn," he muttered automatically, the miss unfazing him as he pulled the bolt on his gun back and aimed once more.
This time he found his mark, the hollowed lead bullets collapsing as they hit, blowing huge holes in the man's head.
As gray substance and a yellowish fluid oozed from what remained of the bodyguard's skull, Murasame ejected his clip and rummaged through his sack in search of his mercury filled rounds.
The bullets had some liquid mercury in them, so that when the bullet penetrate, the mercury would burst and send tiny pieces of shrapnel throughout the area, increasing the chances of a kill.
He thrust the deadly package into his rifle and locked in the first round, centering his crosshairs on one of the three figures at the bar. His keen eyes detected the small bulge in their jackets. Pistols.
Murasame raised his aim to the man's head, his finger tightening around the trigger of his sniper rifle. His shoulder tugged as the rifle recoiled. The bullet smacked into the man's head, the mercury blew up the bullet, tearing apart his brain.
The quick silver splattered on the floor along with gray matter.
He cocked his rifle as Katsuhiro moved in for the kill, the bloodstained knife flashing in the light.
Katsuhiro sucked the life out of one man with several well-placed stabs, but before he could continue, the final man whipped out his pistol.
A stalemate ensued, with Murasame aiming carefully for the man's throat. For the first time in his life the expert sniper was nervous.
If he did not kill the man with one shot Katsuhiro was done for.
Katsuhiro tensed his hold on the knife, curling into a defensive position.
Sucking in a deep breath to steady his aim, Murasame fired.
The bullet passed straight through the man's throat, snapping his spinal cord and killing him instaneously.
Murasame let out his breath, shouldering his sack of ammo and leaping from the rafters.
Katsuhiro chuckled. Old bastard, he was nearly killed! Murasame thought, not really caring about his comrade, more shocked at his carefree attitude.
They turned their attention to the prince, whose face was extremely pale. Murasame had heard that he was good in a Mobile Suit, but the scene of carnage seemed to have completely unnerved him.
Renard dropped from his perch, his jacket was unbuttoned to reveal the tattoo on his chest. The yakuza lord grabbed the prince by his neck, speaking slowly into his wrist communicator, "Is the area clear?"
A static hiss filled the earpiece before the other man replied, "Affirmative, we took out several bodyguards and combed the area twice for snipers, nothing."
Renard nodded his approval, shoving the prince forward, "Move whelp, we are running a strict timetable."
Katsuhiro, seeking to dramatize the situation, threw the twin oak doors open with a flourish, his obsidian eyes scanning over the crowd. Black garbed operatives of the Wolf had their guns trained on the crowd, and another sniper lurked on the rooftop, ready to kill at the drop of a hat.
When Renard shoved the prince forward rather roughly, a man called out, "How dare you shame the son of Chang Lo Kai!"
Before anyone could answer, Murasame put forth a stunning reply with a rather eloquent speaker, a friend of his.
As the man toppled over, mercury bubbling where his head should have been, the crowd shied back a few meters.
"All enemies of the Wolf die," Murasame whispered, barely audible.
Renard tossed the prince like a rag doll into the waiting limo, the Wolf assassins warily filing into the less luxurious Hum-Vee.
Katsuhiro climbed up the hatch at the top of the Hummer, taking control of the .50 caliber chain gun, swiveling it about menacingly.
The drive gunned the motor, gratefully snatching off his ski mask as they left the throng that had gathered to witness the kidnapping of Chang Sun-Tzu.
"You damned fool!" yelled Katsuhiro, his eyes focusing on Murasame angrily, "You killed a civilian! You are no better than Chang's men!"
Murasame whipped his head around and stared hard at Katsuhiro, "He defied the Wolf, he sealed his own death."
Katsuhiro scoffed, "Right!" he muttered sarcastically, "you now what the master ordered, kill only the soldiers!"
Murasame shrugged at his companion, his rifle resting casually across his knees.
Katsuhiro rolled his eyes, "Renard will have you ass for this."
Murasame stared out the window, his voice devoid of feeling, "That yakuza bastard can burn in hell."
A/n:Eeech this is developing bad. Also, the line that says, his right pinky swaying with his movements blah blah blah, is a symbol of a yakuza. They removed all the knuckles in their small fingers to show their loyalty(don't blame ME if I'm wrong, I'm not Japanese ;)). Plz r/r, I need feedback on this!