1 *Author's note: Hey, this is the first fic that I have made a commitment
on completing. I have promised TK Takaishi that I will finish it and
therefore I will. This fic can be considered AU if you want, but I will try
to keep the characters true to the series. So please, no offensive and(or)
non-helpful flames. This fic is rated like this because there is some
violence. There are NO sexual or homosexual themes in this fic. Oh, yeah.
one last note. nothing is as it seems in this part of the fic, go figure.
2
3 Prologue
Andrew walked down the hall at a very slow but steady pace. He took out two 8mm handguns and hid them in two small flowerpots, and kept walking. He would definitely need them later. He did one last check on his two neatly concealed Uzi's in his coat. A stupid mistake such as not making sure that your weapons were chambered before using them would definitely mean death. Personally he did not like the Uzi. It didn't feel right in his hands, but he would have to use if he wanted to conceal it. He approached a door and tightened his gloves one last time.
Men in dark sunglasses and suits were standing at alert in various places around a room. Some of them held AK-47's and wore grey suits. The others Held M-16's and were clad in black. No doubt there as body guards to protect their own syndicate negotiator. Two men sat in the middle arguing loudly over a shipment of cocaine or other gang related illegal activity. Suddenly there was a knock on the door. It was not very loud but it was audible enough. Both men stopped for a minute.
"Tell them to leave." Said one of them to a bodyguard.
"Yes, sir" answered a man near by the door. He turned around and walked towards the door. Just as he neared the door and was about to open it, the door was blasted open. The man was thrown in the air by the force of the blast. Before the smoke even began to clear a hail of bullets rained down. One of the negotiators tried to drop under the table but it was too late. He was mowed down immediately. Most of the bodyguards didn't even get a chance to raise their weapons. The ones who did lifted their weapons and fired shots at the doorway hitting nothing but air. The mayhem ensued until the smoke cleared enough to see through. No one was there. Three of the remaining bodyguard attempted to pursue the shooter leaving one of them behind. They barely got out the door before they were all shot dead by half a clip of bullets from two handguns. The last remaining bodyguard was on the floor. He had been shot in the leg by the first barrage of bullets. He dragged himself out of the room to see a man in a black coat walking away down the hallway. He pulled out his sidearm and shoot at the man.
In a fluid motion Andrew rolled out of the way of coming shoots and into an empty near by doorway. He could hear his heart pumping along side the loud base of the nightclub speakers. He took out a fragmentation grenade and lobed it down the hall. He felt a giant shockwave hit. A minute later he stood up and simply walked out the back door. He dusted off his coat and his shirt. "I hope I can wash this dirt off," he thought as the exit door squeaked shut.
4 Chapter 1
It was raining heavily that evening. Matt's coat was drenched with rain. He gazed beyond the cemetery trees once in a while to see if she was coming. The surrounding area was almost surreal. Almost everything was black, white or grey. In his hand a single rose contrasted with this gloomy scene. If looked as though it didn't belong in this place of death and decay. One could easily feel the sorrow and sadness associated with this place. All that remained from the light that was able to penetrate through the clouds was slowly fading as the late afternoon turned into evening. Matt slowly released the rose in his hand. It faded to a dark black colour as it absorbed the muddy water on the ground. It had become one with the dark gloomy scene.
He staggered aimlessly around the dark, damp and dirty streets of Tokyo. He didn't know where to go. He had just thrown his whole life away, not that much was worth keeping anyway. He half limped, half staggered down the stairway of the subway terminal. He ached all over, but considering that he was a "dead" man it wasn't really that bad after all. He dropped a few coins into machine to buy a subway ticket and lugged his small briefcase into the subway just before it raced down the rail. That briefcase was a heavy burden considering his weakened state, but it was the only chance he had of leaving with his life. He got off the subway and left the shelter of the underground. It was a agonising long walk down a few blocks before he arrived at his home. He moved from apartment to apartment so often he didn't own many possessions any more. All he really owned was his two .50 calibre Desert Eagles and a neatly kept family picture. On the picture he glanced at the image of himself when he was 9. He then looked at his brother on the picture, funny how much they looked alike, but how separated they ended up. He didn't even know if he was still alive or not. But he just remembered, no matter how alien or foreign the world became to him, he felt home was where this picture hung. He picked up the decorated frame, and opened it. He slid out the picture and an airplane ticked hidden in the frame of the picture. He toke both of them and put it in his briefcase along with his guns and ammo. Tokyo was no longer his home. He drew his coat closer around himself, although he had stopped bleeding, he still felt that his life was slowly, but surely ooze out of him. He dragged him self back to the subway and then the finally the to the airport. He walked slowly to the check in counter and handed the tickets to the person behind the counter. "May I see your passport?" asked the short man behind the counter.
"Sure, here it is." said Matt, as he tucked a stack of hundred dollar American bills into the small leather passport book.
"Oh, hello, Mr. Ishida we've been expecting you!" replied the man handing Matt a small button labelled VIP.
"It will get you through security." Said the short man. "You'd better hurry, your plane is leaving soon."
Matt thanked the man and, picked up his briefcase and proceeded. Something was wrong. Matt darted through security displaying his badge and continued through the airport, into the washroom.
Tycho had no idea what he had put himself into. He had been given, a picture of man in his mid 20's and a USP handgun and silencer. He had been told to be extremely careful before being sent to the airport. He followed behind the man distantly into the airport. He watched as the man walked into the washroom and decided to follow. He opened the door and came in to see an empty washroom. There was not even a shadow of a man in here. Confused, he turned around to leave the washroom only to see a roll of toilet paper shoved into his face. Before he even understood what was happening, a bullet ripped through the roll of paper and into his skull. He was dead before he hit the ground.
Matt dragged the man into the washroom stall and left him there. He would be discovered later. Discarding the makeshift silencer into the garbage can he washed his hand and stood there looking into the mirror. He was looking for an expatiation. He was trying to explain to himself why he felt no remorse for living, no remorse for killing. Instead he found nothing but a innocent young man. He didn't see himself for what he really was, a killer. He washed his hands, and left the washroom. A lot of him had died with her, too much to ever get all of it back without her. He remembered how jumpy he was when he heard her voice. He was always afraid that he'd make a fool of himself. It was sad how his childhood friendships ended this way. Matt boarded the plane and sat down in his first class seat and tried to fall asleep, the long search for his brother in Hong Kong will begin when he woke up.
2
3 Prologue
Andrew walked down the hall at a very slow but steady pace. He took out two 8mm handguns and hid them in two small flowerpots, and kept walking. He would definitely need them later. He did one last check on his two neatly concealed Uzi's in his coat. A stupid mistake such as not making sure that your weapons were chambered before using them would definitely mean death. Personally he did not like the Uzi. It didn't feel right in his hands, but he would have to use if he wanted to conceal it. He approached a door and tightened his gloves one last time.
Men in dark sunglasses and suits were standing at alert in various places around a room. Some of them held AK-47's and wore grey suits. The others Held M-16's and were clad in black. No doubt there as body guards to protect their own syndicate negotiator. Two men sat in the middle arguing loudly over a shipment of cocaine or other gang related illegal activity. Suddenly there was a knock on the door. It was not very loud but it was audible enough. Both men stopped for a minute.
"Tell them to leave." Said one of them to a bodyguard.
"Yes, sir" answered a man near by the door. He turned around and walked towards the door. Just as he neared the door and was about to open it, the door was blasted open. The man was thrown in the air by the force of the blast. Before the smoke even began to clear a hail of bullets rained down. One of the negotiators tried to drop under the table but it was too late. He was mowed down immediately. Most of the bodyguards didn't even get a chance to raise their weapons. The ones who did lifted their weapons and fired shots at the doorway hitting nothing but air. The mayhem ensued until the smoke cleared enough to see through. No one was there. Three of the remaining bodyguard attempted to pursue the shooter leaving one of them behind. They barely got out the door before they were all shot dead by half a clip of bullets from two handguns. The last remaining bodyguard was on the floor. He had been shot in the leg by the first barrage of bullets. He dragged himself out of the room to see a man in a black coat walking away down the hallway. He pulled out his sidearm and shoot at the man.
In a fluid motion Andrew rolled out of the way of coming shoots and into an empty near by doorway. He could hear his heart pumping along side the loud base of the nightclub speakers. He took out a fragmentation grenade and lobed it down the hall. He felt a giant shockwave hit. A minute later he stood up and simply walked out the back door. He dusted off his coat and his shirt. "I hope I can wash this dirt off," he thought as the exit door squeaked shut.
4 Chapter 1
It was raining heavily that evening. Matt's coat was drenched with rain. He gazed beyond the cemetery trees once in a while to see if she was coming. The surrounding area was almost surreal. Almost everything was black, white or grey. In his hand a single rose contrasted with this gloomy scene. If looked as though it didn't belong in this place of death and decay. One could easily feel the sorrow and sadness associated with this place. All that remained from the light that was able to penetrate through the clouds was slowly fading as the late afternoon turned into evening. Matt slowly released the rose in his hand. It faded to a dark black colour as it absorbed the muddy water on the ground. It had become one with the dark gloomy scene.
He staggered aimlessly around the dark, damp and dirty streets of Tokyo. He didn't know where to go. He had just thrown his whole life away, not that much was worth keeping anyway. He half limped, half staggered down the stairway of the subway terminal. He ached all over, but considering that he was a "dead" man it wasn't really that bad after all. He dropped a few coins into machine to buy a subway ticket and lugged his small briefcase into the subway just before it raced down the rail. That briefcase was a heavy burden considering his weakened state, but it was the only chance he had of leaving with his life. He got off the subway and left the shelter of the underground. It was a agonising long walk down a few blocks before he arrived at his home. He moved from apartment to apartment so often he didn't own many possessions any more. All he really owned was his two .50 calibre Desert Eagles and a neatly kept family picture. On the picture he glanced at the image of himself when he was 9. He then looked at his brother on the picture, funny how much they looked alike, but how separated they ended up. He didn't even know if he was still alive or not. But he just remembered, no matter how alien or foreign the world became to him, he felt home was where this picture hung. He picked up the decorated frame, and opened it. He slid out the picture and an airplane ticked hidden in the frame of the picture. He toke both of them and put it in his briefcase along with his guns and ammo. Tokyo was no longer his home. He drew his coat closer around himself, although he had stopped bleeding, he still felt that his life was slowly, but surely ooze out of him. He dragged him self back to the subway and then the finally the to the airport. He walked slowly to the check in counter and handed the tickets to the person behind the counter. "May I see your passport?" asked the short man behind the counter.
"Sure, here it is." said Matt, as he tucked a stack of hundred dollar American bills into the small leather passport book.
"Oh, hello, Mr. Ishida we've been expecting you!" replied the man handing Matt a small button labelled VIP.
"It will get you through security." Said the short man. "You'd better hurry, your plane is leaving soon."
Matt thanked the man and, picked up his briefcase and proceeded. Something was wrong. Matt darted through security displaying his badge and continued through the airport, into the washroom.
Tycho had no idea what he had put himself into. He had been given, a picture of man in his mid 20's and a USP handgun and silencer. He had been told to be extremely careful before being sent to the airport. He followed behind the man distantly into the airport. He watched as the man walked into the washroom and decided to follow. He opened the door and came in to see an empty washroom. There was not even a shadow of a man in here. Confused, he turned around to leave the washroom only to see a roll of toilet paper shoved into his face. Before he even understood what was happening, a bullet ripped through the roll of paper and into his skull. He was dead before he hit the ground.
Matt dragged the man into the washroom stall and left him there. He would be discovered later. Discarding the makeshift silencer into the garbage can he washed his hand and stood there looking into the mirror. He was looking for an expatiation. He was trying to explain to himself why he felt no remorse for living, no remorse for killing. Instead he found nothing but a innocent young man. He didn't see himself for what he really was, a killer. He washed his hands, and left the washroom. A lot of him had died with her, too much to ever get all of it back without her. He remembered how jumpy he was when he heard her voice. He was always afraid that he'd make a fool of himself. It was sad how his childhood friendships ended this way. Matt boarded the plane and sat down in his first class seat and tried to fall asleep, the long search for his brother in Hong Kong will begin when he woke up.
