Will and Fate
By Jeremy

Chapter 23

March 3, 1998

Laureen felt the hand cuffs close on her wrists, and she couldn't help but a little shiver of dread at the noise. She would never feel completely herself anymore, not even should she finally escape from the maniac who was grumbling about something undefinable as he tied her up for the umpteenth time. He was heading out of here on another 'job', it seemed. And as usual, he was making sure she wouldn't budge from her bedroom. Her bedroom. She was so starting to hate this place, it was becoming dangerous to her health just being in this room.

"I shouldn't be gone for more than a few hours." he was mumbling. These last days, he was becoming less and less easy to understand either in his gestures or in his speech. Because of that she was scared almost to death when he said anything to her. She went stiff as he spoke, wary of him, fully knowing there was nothing she could do if he decided to do anything to her. "So just stay here and be quiet."

Like I got any kind of choice? she wanted to say, but knew that saying such a crack would only get her beaten. He was becoming more frequent in his abuse now, although it still wasn't harsh. And he wasn't beating her now, and she had no wish to bring the storm any closer. It was just when he took out a roll of tape and took of a piece that she decided to speak. She chose a scared, pleading voice, the kind of voice he SOMETIME still listened to.

"Please, don't." she pleaded softly "Don't gag me. I hate it, I hate it so much."

He seemed to hesitate ever so slightly, probably surprised that she'd beg about what he considered something so trivial. Still, he had hesitated, and that was a very good sign considering what she knew of the man.

"Why are you so adamant about this? Its not like it'll bite. And I'll be back in a few hours, like I said just now." he sounded like he was trying to reason a little child about being more polite to old people.

Yeah, he'd be back. And in such a fine move that he'd abuse her once more, than tell him another story of another murder that would haunt her for years to come, if he decided to let her live years, which was very doubtful with him. No. No, not anymore. She didn't want him to come back, if it was to do that, but she couldn't say it, couldn't get angry or hysterical, or he'd gag her for sure. Instead, she kept her face low, lips trembling, not daring to look at him, hiding her hatred and her anger behind a show of fear that was, she admitted it freely, very real to her. She felt his hand beneath her chin, and let him lift her face so that she'd meet him squarely in the eyes.

He looked at her for a long time, his eyes giving away nothing of the probably dark thoughts that slithered through his sick mind, and when he spoke, it was with a voice that was both soft and dangerous.

"If that's what you want, bitch, than why not?" he hissed with a grimace that she supposed was a smile to him. "You've been a nice, polite little thing these days, so I'll let you have this little boon today." his hand tightened painfully. But if you start doing a ruckus while I'm gone, I'm gonna be very unhappy, understand?"

She gave a quick, fearful nod, and he seemed satisfied with her answer, for he let her go and stood up and, without good byes or anything else, left the room. A minute later she heard the apartment door close, and waited a few minutes, tied uncomfortably, to make sure he had gone. When she had made sure of it, she started to make her move.

First she spat. Out came a rusty long nail that she'd found in the bathroom earlier that day, when he'd permitted her to go and turned his back for a moment. She had put it in her mouth then, and had kept it, unheeding the fact that it could very well sicken her - survival was far more important to her at this point than sanitation - and had come up with a desperate plan that was made up of the nail, an old skill of hers, and luck. She had put up this pleading gig not to be gag not because she hated it - although she did, so she really HADN'T lied about that - so that he she could use the nail.

She took the nail, in her hand, and started to fiddle with her cuffs rapidly. There was one good thing she had learned that could apply to the situation: lockpicking. She had played with locks as a kid, understood them and fiddled with them, wondering how they worked, asking question. Many years the hobby held out, until, when she lost interest at about fourteen, she knew how to unlock many kind of small locking mechanisms - including that which was in all types of hand cuffs. She could have done it sleeping by the end - or with her arms tied behind her back, which was the case right now.

She fiddled and tinkered, afraid she'd mess up, lose the nail, or break it. She did none of these things. After a while, she heard a sound that, for long moment, submerged her with joy.

CLICK!

She'd managed to open the cuffs. She put her hands in front of her, clenching them. Free! They were free! She couldn't seem to stop staring at them, feeling giddy and somehow invincible. This had been her biggest obstacle, getting her arms free. Then Laureen abruptly remembered where she was, the situation she was still in, and worked on the one imprisoning her foot, keeping it stuck to the bed like she was an animal. She had the use her eye sight now. It didn't take long that she had freed it as well.

She jumped down the bed giddy for a moment, knowing that she was alone and that she was well on her way to escaping this hellhole. She searched about, found boots and a coat, and put them on. They didn't fit, but who cared? She was getting out of here. Where? Wherever she could get to, which was better than here anyway.

She was just about to do move to the door when she seemed to hear a noise from the other side of the door. Immediately she froze, her giddiness forgotten, her face shocked and utterly terrified. It couldn't be him. Please, God, it couldn't be! If it was him, and he saw her like that, he would...he would probably do like the first time she'd tried to escape, maybe worse! She wouldn't survive it, not again, not again! She was stuck into place. But the noise passed. It wasn't a person coming. Just a noise on the other side.

She breathed a sigh of relief that was actually half-laugh, half-sob. She was serious now, the joy gone. She was still very much in danger, and fully realized it. In fact, it reminded her of a story her father had told her.

When he'd been her age, her father and grandfather had hunted in the forest, and their dogs had finally cornered a hare in his hole. Her father had explained that they'd pulled the dogs back to make the hare believe it was safe to come out, and had shot it as soon as it had made its appearance.

She felt like the hare right now. But like the hare, she felt she had to go out and see, at the risk of being discovered and, if not killed, then terribly brutalized.

Besides, she carried, in her womb, what she knew to be a new life. An innocent one that the damn monster wanted to raise for himself, so that he would have a living legacy, to keep on with his madness. She couldn't allow it. Especially since she distinctively remembered that it had been she who had given the man the very idea of fathering a child. Because she had been drunk. Something else she would never be again. She now loathed the very thought of a bottle. And it served her right, she felt.

No, she had to protect two lives now, and that was exactly what she would do - by escaping right this minute!

She opened the door, looked right and left, fearfully. Any second she felt she would be discovered by him, by this bastard who had kept her here for so long. The hallway seemed rundown, and she could tell just by the feel of things that she was in the bad part of town, a part she'd never visited and never wished to. As quietly as she could, she slipped outside, and went looking for a way up.

She found it quickly, a stairway that actually led to the outside. She climbed it as calmly as she could, but her heart was beating hard against her chest. Anytime now she expected his hand to grab her, or to hear his voice crying out, angry and demented. She always had the impression of hearing his steps behind her, and resisted the urge to look back time and time again. The fear almost stopped her ascension.

Yet she continued, and was out a grey, old apartment building in no time, with no one stopping her. Not waiting to press her luck, she went to the street and started to run through it, like mad, not caring what a spectacle she was making of herself, the only thing that imported to her was to put as much distance between herself and the building, lessening the chance he'd see her if he came back. It was only five minutes later that, breathless, she stopped, and looked around her. No one in pursuit.

She was safe. He wasn't there. It took her a few moments to realize it but when she did, she almost whooped for joy, stopping only because it would make her look even more foolish than she must seem right now. But it didn't stop her from smiling brightly, despite the cold and the people looking at her with weird expressions.

She had done it.

She was free.

* * * * * * * * * *

Around the same time...

Sparks flew off, the system broke down. It wasn't the first time that what he had tried to do went down the drain, and it probably wouldn't be the last. But for some reason, this was too much for Nathan McIntyre, and he gave out a cry of pure anger and frustration. He hit the console hard, bruising his hand and not caring one little bit about it. Worse, his constant headache started to worsen as soon as he did.

This day wasn't starting well.

He heard footsteps, then saw Area enter the room, looking at him worriedly but also warily. It irked him to see her there suddenly, always so sad and so compassionate. Since when did he ask her to be there, huh? Why couldn't even vent his damn anger the damn way he saw fit without bumping into her ten seconds later. He was seeing completely red, and it wasn't natural. But being natural or not, that was how he felt.

"Are you allright, Nate? Oh God, look at your hand. Here..." she said, taking his bruised hand in hers looking it over. He snatched it off, angrily, possessively.

"Leave me alone. I don't need you here." he said nastily, although something in his mind told him, no SCREAMED him NOT to say such a thing. But her was beyond caring right now. He just wanted her out.

She looked angry but sad, hesitant about something. Still she was not going. Still she seemed like wanting to try to actually help him. Couldn't the woman get a darn clue?!?

"But Nate...." she began, but he cut her off.

"Didn't you hear me, dammit. I am up to HERE with your damn pity." he shouted "Just leave me in peace! Don't bother me anymore!!"

It was completely unnecessary and completely irrational. But it hit the spot. Hit it hard and true. She blanched for a moment, her expression sad and broken. That was for the first moment. Then she scowled, her face started to litterally burn with hurt and anger, and she turned on her heels and stalked out of Nathan's workroom, slamming the door behind her.

Her ranted a little more against her and everything around him, then finally sat on the chair near his workshop and computers. As he sat there, the anger melted away, as if it hadn't truly been his to begin with. Lucidity returned fast, and confusion as well. He had gotten angry again. But why had he?

Ever since the 'incident' with Tom, Nathan had been a bitter man, broken by the world and largely hating the world deep down inside. He was looked down by many, and to him, it seemed by everyone. Consequently he had started to state his bitterness openly, recovering just to spite everyone. He had been on the road to becoming a man with no friends, bitter, alone, with no one he wished to talk to.

But Area, dear Area, she had changed that.

After meeting her, he wanted to become better, and had tried to stem the bitterness, to feel more like the young man he used to be - an intelligent man, with hope, dreams and compassion. As their relationship grew - and it had, only Alex and Claudia had beaten him at that - this desire had grown, and it had seemed that he was less bitter, more accessible to people. He'd regained the firm friendship he'd had with Claudia and Alex, and even mended most of the pots with Jeremy.

And then, these incomprehensible bouts of anger had taken hold. They had come around the same time as his headaches, but it had changed little to his mood, until recently. For the last two weeks, however, he'd been nearly impossible to live with, snapping at people, overcome by thoughts that he somehow felt were not his own. He had become exactly what he had been afraid of becoming. And now he...

A door slammed. Front door of his house. At the sound, his musings cut off. What was he DOING? What was he thinking? This was Area, he was sure of it. And it sounded like she was damn angry at him.

'And why shouldn't she be, you idiot?' a voice said in his head. "After what you told her now, after two weeks of supporting you like this, you're SURPRISED she's LEAVING? What a fool you are, McIntyre. Genius, my ass! Well? DON'T JUST STAND THERE, YOU MORON, RUN AFTER HER, STOP THINKING ABOUT YOURSELF FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE!

Nathan took this as the best advice he had had in two weeks. And ran.

He forgot to put a coat on, forgot to take his cane with him. He ran down the stairs, ran to the door and flung himself outside. It was freezing, his legs hurt him worse than Hell, being put through a strain it was unable to hold anymore. Pain hammered at him, from the headache, the frost of early March and the leg that would be forever shattered. He pushed it all away, spotting a the figure of Area ahead of him. He ran towards her, crying his heart out, bellowing her name, pleading with her to come back. He knew he had hurt her - and why had he, damn it, WHY? - but he wanted to apologize, to pray, to grovel, anything that would bring her back.

He forgot his bitterness, then. Damn it to Hell! He forgot his senseless anger, then. Damn it to Hell! He cried out to her one last time, and there must have been enough despair, enough apology or pain, to make her turn toward him. He started to call her again...

And then the pain collapse on him all at once, and he blacked out. The last thing he remembered was the icy pavement rushing to meet him at incredible speed. Still he managed to whisper her name one last time. Then nothing.

When he came to, he found himself installed on the sofa, a blanket on him. He looked around in confusion at the surroundings, not really sure how he got there. What had happened? Then his head cleared out of fog, and he remembered. What he had said. What he'd done, and whom he had wanted back.

"I'm still not sure I shouldn't have let you freeze back there. You have thirty seconds to convince me I didn't make a mistake." came a cold voice, that carried an edge of worry despite itself. He looked in that direction, and saw Area sitting right next to him. She did not look particularly happy to be there, either. He found he couldn't blame her.

"Area, I'm so glad you're still here." he said earnestly. He was met with a stony expression.

"I'm not sure I am. Twenty-five seconds."

O-kay, so that was the way the game was played. Very well, he knew he more than deserved it. He tried to make up something that would be convincing.

"I know its not enough to make up with all I said to you, but please believe how very, very sorry, I am." he said.

She nodded. "Sure. Twenty seconds."

He closed his eyes. He knew he couldn't convince her in twenty seconds. She was going to leave, and he might never see her again. It hurt, that thought, it hurt more than any wound, and he had to fight back the wave of self-pity that came at him. He had lived in self-pity for four years, and what had it ever given him? He was sick of self-pity.

"Okay. I can't convince you." he said, his voice cracking just a little "Just tell me if you know a guy, amongst those weird World Warriors you know, who can get this anger out of my head. Its not me. It came with a headache, and the headache came with a weird guy I saved a while back. I don't want the anger anymore. I don't want the bitterness. I just want to be with you."

Silence. It stretched on for a while, giving him the certain feeling that he had lost. And why should he not? He had hurt her enough. She'd reached her limits, no longer wanted anything to do with him. She was going to leave. And there was nothing he could say against it, every argument said that she should leave. Who could care about HIM? He wasn't worth caring about. And this time he felt it wasn't self-pity. It was a cold fact.

And then he felt an hand on his forehead, hesitantly caressing. He opened his eyes to see Area looking down at him with eyes that were still angry, but now held what remained of her affection for him. She spoke with tranquility, clearly.

"There is a World Warrior." she said "A good man, who lives in India." she paused "His name his Dhalsim."

He nodded gratefully. "I'll go to India first thing tomorrow. I'll meet with this Dhalsim. And then, Area, and then, I'll work hard to regain the trust you gave me, and the love you gave me."

"Is that a promise?"

"You can bet that it is."

And it was a promise he intended to keep.

* * * * * * * * * *

One hour later...

Laureen was making her way through the rundown part of town she was in. The joy she had been feeling had been short-lived, and had been replaced by a sinking feeling of dread. The people here were rough, poor, and decidedly dangerous. They were part of the slums, they were people who had suffered a significant part of their lives. Consequently, the slums that existed in London - although the English authorities would rather curl up and die than admit it - were largely given a wide berth, rarely patrolled except when they infringed upon 'better' parts of the city, and out of most laws that held in Britain, except for one important law: the law of the fittest, the strongest.

This was the part Laureen found herself in.

She wasn't in any position to defend herself, that was plain. She was already bruised, beaten, her strength spent from weeks of abuse and fear and anger. Laureen knew that she must be a perfect target to those who wished to either have a good time with their fists - or with something else. She knew the possibility too well, and could appreciate why Thomas lived in such an area: it was chaotic and brutal, almost as bad as he was.

Almost.

She knew she had to get out of this area if she was to survive to see another day, for spending the night here was...too dangerous to even consider. The place was full of crazies, and some might be allied with...with him. After all, she had gotten the picture that Thomas was stronger than the average. That meant he must be enjoying a certain degree of respect here, where strength was what counted. This was a definitely frightening thought, but one that was very real. Never would she trust in things to arrange themselves. Not anymore, not totally.

But she might need some help to get out of here. But who could she trust. She knew that the bums and the homeless here were poor, suffering people, but knew that some had a good heart beyond the edges. But some were bad. And she really could not differentiate between the two. How to chose? How could she? Most people here were males, and she was still too distrusting of males to really consider. Oh, how jumbled were her thoughts, how despairing the situation. What could she do? What could she do?

Nothing but try her best, and let Fate help or damn her. It had gone against her before, perhaps it would help her now.

She remembered someone saying: as long as there's life, there's hope. She wasn't sure she agreed with the concept anymore - so many of her preset ideas - so naive, she saw them now as this - had been erased or changed. She had no idea how she was ever going to ever feel normal again.

None at all.

It was at this point of her musing that she felt herself be taken from behind by strong hands.

For a moment, she was certain that it was HIM, and the fear she felt, the utter black terror, all-consuming, tearing at her soul, was nothing compared to the void she felt. Void that was quickly replaced by burning anger. NO! She had escaped. She wouldn't go BACK, not to HIM, NEVER, NEVER, NEVER! She kicked and screamed, and when an hand tried to stifle them, she bit it with all of her strength.. She heard a cry of pain and surprise, a voice that was most definitely NOT Thomas's - she knew it too well, would never forget that voice - before finding herself flung hard against a wall, her breath coming out with a wuff.

She blinked back tears of pain at that, and finally found out who the person who had been holding was. He was there in front of her, with two others. She was relieved to see that none of them was Thomas.

Then saw the looks on their faces, and found they weren't much better.

The man who had been holding her was now holding his hand, which was bleeding. He was looking at her with murder in his eyes, while the other two laughed roughly. They were dirty, with rough airs of bums and the eyes of people who had seen the bottom and didn't care about much but getting what they could anymore.

"She bit me, the bloody damn bitch!" ranted the first man "I'm goin' to teach her not to mess with me, just gimme a second!"

"Aww, your hand will heal." said another, smirking "Just live with it. This nice little morsel's bruised enough as it is." chuckling, he approached Laureen. He was well a head taller than she, and nearly twice as broad. He put his hand under her chin, used the pressure to turn her head, examining it. She barely resisted her disgust at him, at them all. Something within her, at the situation, started to strain.

The second man seemed satisfied with her. "Yeah, she's not bad. You guys were right, she is a fine little morsel!" he leaned to her "I'm sorry if this all seems scary gal. We're just gonna have some fun with ya. and when its done, well, we might let you go." The three men started to chuckle slightly. But they were cut of in a manner in which they weren't accustomed at all.

Laureen started to laugh at THEM.

At the words the man had told her, the whole weeks that she had suffered came crashing down on her full force, obliterating any fear, any thought of hesitation and pushed her beyond caring what happened to her. She had no fear of these men, only disgust.

"Hehehehe...you....you think I'm AFRAID of punks like YOU? You think I care about getting myself raped?!? After all I've been through, you THINK I AM?!? You poor, useless band of TWITS!" And with that, she swung her hand, slashing with her nails. The man in front of her cried out, clutching the bleeding trails she'd left.

"You damn bitch!!!" he growled, incensed and enraged. He pulled back his arm, and she defiantly waited for his fist to strike her, looking at him with an almost arrogant air, challenging him openly. She knew it would hurt her very much, but she didn't care. Never would she let herself be scared by any man, not after that ordeal...

However, the blow never came.

Before the man could strike, an hand lashed out and caught him by the wrist. The grip must have been frighteningly strong, for the man who was about to hit her groaned and, try as he might to squirm out of the vice-like grasp, he was unable to move a muscle.

"Now, that won't do at all." said the man, and she looked at him for the first time. A tall man, in a winter coat of slightly strange design, with leather gloves. He had a strong, handsome face that showed that the situation did not cause him any fear. His eyes were a grayish blue, and his hair was a very light brown, rather short, but not overly so. "This woman has suffered enough. Leave her be."

The thug cried out and swung at the newcomer. But the only thing that this did was to get his other hand caught in a relaxed but powerful grip as well. He turned to the side, toward were the other two men were.

"What are you waiting for!!!" he bellowed. "Come on and attack...this..." he stopped, stared. Looking over, Laureen gasped. The two men were there all right. Knocked out cold. "What the...urk." The thug was silenced by a immensely powerful shot from the stranger's knee. The thug coughed, and then his eyes rolled back, and he slumped backward, also out. The newcomer turned to her, his face breaking with a gentle smile. He held a hand out to her.

"Come. I will guide back to the nearest police station." his voice was soft and compassionate, a distinct contrast to the great strength he'd just showed...

Still she hesitated, for men had become a very dangerous figure in her mind,and she wasn't yet sure of any of them, including this man, who appeared kind, didn't possess that darkness she'd gotten used to. The man seemed to recognize that.

"There is no need to fear me. Come. I swear that nothing bad will happen to you while you are with me."

She gritted her teeth, but knew that she'd need to trust someone, and that, anyway, there wasn't much she could do if the man forced the issue. She took his hand and he pulled her off the wall. She looked at him warily.

"Who are you?" she asked "Why do you wish to help me?"

The man smiled. "I'd be in a lot of trouble if I told you my name." he said cryptically "As for the second question, I just did what people should do all the time. Now come. I know the way out of this slum. Follow me."

And she did, feeling confused and still wary, but feeling she was remotely safe for the first time in weeks.

* * * * * * * * * *

Three hours later...

Breathe in. Breathe out. STRIKE!

Recover.

Breathe in. Breathe out. STRIKE!

Ibuki swung her katana with the assurance of one who had mastered the art of swordfighting. Her posture was perfect - feet well-spaced, wide apart but not to much, posture giving away skill but not the full extent of it, the hands not relaxed but not too tight, either - and her overall look was serene. She seemed perfectly in control. No one would have believed that, in her mind, she was stiff and weary, for she had just made a grave decision:

She intended to defeat the Shadow Walker, Everick. And she knew that here was an opponent that would never be defeated easily.

But the insult to her pride and to the honor of her clan was too great. She remembered the cool pity in hi stone as he held her down, at his mercy, and that she had felt fiercely angry at it. The man looked upon the Shinobi as nothing more than an irritant, not a powerful force of the shadows. Still, she had considered her position and her chances before committing herself, going as far as to ask her grandfather's opinion on the matter. Geki's answer had been that he agreed with her need to redeem her clan's honor, but had also suggested a large amount of caution.

"For as you well know by now," he had said. "Although we use the shadows, Everick, to an extent, IS the shadows. Stealth will not nearly be as much as an edge to you as it would be with other opponents."

She had had no need to remember Everick's frightening Shadow Mastery. She had seen it herself, and had been able to test it. Still,.it did not mean that she should give up.

"Grandfather, I am sure that this Shadow Walker possesses some kind of weakness that I may be able to use."

Geki had nodded. "Everyone has a weakness, Ibuki. The problematic in this is whether you can use that weakness and, if you can, if it will be in time." he had paused "If you do not, you might be forfeiting your life, no matter how cautious you are." There had been a flash of pain in those eyes, as he surely remembered her grandmother, who had died, he always sadly told, because the strength of her opponent had been too overwhelming to her. But to do nothing was to admit defeat, and she would never do such a thing. Anyway...

"I doubt he would kill me." she mused, "He could have slain me the other day, and yet did not. There is something honorable about him."

"Perhaps, but next time he might have no choice but to kill you, and be that much more lethal for it. Would your plan be killing or defeat?"

"Defeat." she had stated definitely, her mind made up on the subject long ago. "He deliberately chose to let me live, and killing him would then demean me even more than his pity and decision. I will not fight to kill, but only to redeem.

The old ninja had been silent at that, looking at her with piercing, wise eyes that had seen much. Finally he had nodded slowly, his eyes softening a little.

"Very well, Ibuki." he had said "Your goal is honorable, your reasons just. I see no other choice but to give you leave. Be careful, however, to make precise plans, for you now are about to hunt down a man who knows how to hunt in the shadows and in the underground just as well as the best of us."

"I understand, sir. And I will be careful, I promise you."

"Then I have no fear that you shall return successful. Now go."

The conversation had ended at that, but it had by no means meant the end for Ibuki herself. As soon as she had been out of her grandfather's sight, she had been nearly overwhelmed by doubts. She knew that Everick was powerful, had heard the rumors about him long ago, often spoken in fearful tones, as if the shadows themselves were listening. She knew now, after fighting him, that the fear had not been misplaced, either about the person or about the shadows listening in.

She returned to the confrontation itself. The man was definitely highly-trained, imaginative and fierce. She had seen techniques that reminded her of Savate, Karate and Ninjitsu, as well as other movements that seemed to be a template forged out of these three martial arts and linked to his strength and agility. As far as pure physical prowess could be determined, he was definitely stronger than she was, but slower and possessing a level of dexterity inferior to her own, although it was indeed quite high. She knew, however, that if she could attack him during a moment of weakness, in a place with few shadows, using surprise, tricks and a lot of luck, she COULD defeat him. It was long-shot, she knew it. So long that it almost lost itself in the distance.

But it was still a shot. Still a chance.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Strike.

Her arm shook as the blade went too low, denting the wooden floor with a dull thunk sound. She cursed herself softly as she realized that she had lost all pretense of concentration during her musings. Only her strict personal discipline prevented her from extrapolating on the self-cursing, but for a few moments she felt in a foul mood indeed. Then she felt a presence coming up behind her, recognized it and purposefully relaxed, letting her irritated thoughts flitter out of her mind.

Soft, nearly inaudible steps. She sighed. "You really must work on your stealth, Hiro. Any trained individual would have felt you coming a mile off, just as I did now."

The steps stopped at that, then there was a confused and nervous cough. "Gomen ne, Ibuki-sempai, but I wished not to be stealthy, but only to talk to you." He seemed a little ill-at-ease. The fact that she was Geki's granddaughter had always given the other students and trainees high reservations as to how to interact with her. It had grown only worse as she excelled in her training and moved toward completion faster than anyone of her age had ever done. That was why she prefered her social life outside of the compound, where she interacted with people who did not know her for anything more than Ibuki, a japanese girl. Hiro's reaction was nothing new.

"I know, Hiro." she said, keeping her voice strong, although she always regretted speaking to other like her - other students - in such a tone. "But you should always be as silent as possible, naturally. What did you want to talk about?"

"You're going after the Shadow Walker, aren't you?"

The blunt question - and the fact that the guest had been so very shrewd, caused her to turn around and stare at the younger student and she had to fight in order to keep a cool facade through it all. She stared hard at him.

"How would you know what I'm going to do?" she asked softly, cautiously. The trainee did not back down from her gaze. In fact, he seemed more than a little irritated by her tone, by her slightly war air.

"It's not like I wasn't there, " he hissed fiercely, surprising her, for he'd ever been a calm, introverted individual. "That guy nearly killed me, WOULD have killed me, if you hadn't been there."

She wasn't so sure of that, for Everick had seemed to attack to incapacitate, not to kill. They'd even been able to reanimate the man who'd been attacked outside. He hadn't really come here to kill.

"So I'm here to tell you good luck, and that I wish I'd be going with you." he gave small smile. "However, that would hinder more than help, cuz I don't have your skills. And mostly,be careful."

"I'm always careful." she said, although his last words had confused her slightly. He seemed so adamant about this. The boy, in answer, only nodded, bowed and walked away. She was left a little stunned.

But also with a greater desire to win. After all, she was going to defend not only her honor, but Hiro's too, for he had been shamed as well. And for her fellow, even more than for the clan as a whole, she would be certain to win. For she would win. She would defeat the feared and powerful Shadow Walker.

No matter how hard it was. What it took.

She would defeat him. This was a vowed. And she had NEVER failed something she had vowed before.

* * * * * * * * * *

That evening...

Morton was both relieved and nervous. They had found Thomas Storm where Thomas Storm lived, at last! But had they found Storm himself? That was some thing he wasn't sure about. But he was going to find out by visiting that home and, if it was true that this bastard lived there, he would arrest him - and none too gently at that. Beside him, his partner, Donald, groaned as he had since the beginning.

"You don't really believe we'll find him, do you?" he asked.

"Right now, Don, I don't know exactly what I should believe. But I know that we have to check that apartment. Its the first clue we've had since the beginning of this bloody affair, and it might hide some others. We can't pass it up."

"Maybe, but don't forget what that girl has told us."

That girl - Laureen - had told them many things about her captor, many of which were frightening, some disgusting. His treatment of her had not been only cruel, but twisted in a way that Morton did not entirely comprehend. A problem that. A big one. It was always those who are hard to understand who were the most unpredictable. And from what Laureen had said, he was getting more and more insane, losing touch with what little sanity remained in him - which hadn't been much to begin with.

"I remember," he finally said, "But sometimes psychopaths get disorganized and wait in their lair a little while. We have to take that risk."

"If you say so," said Donald reluctantly. "But let's just say I don't like it much."

"And neither do I, Don. Neither do I."

They drove following the girl's indications, which had identified the number of the building and the streets around it. It had made their job easier, but it was still a bit of an hassle for them. This wasn't a spot any policeman favored, for it was rife with gangs, thugs, junkies and troublemakers of all sorts - the true dark side of proud, ancient London. It saddened him that his city still had such places, but knew there was nothing he could do about it.

"What an horrible place to live one's life." whispered Donald. Henry Morton agreed with him there, too.

Problem was, some good people did live in these places - people who were jobless, who were poor and desperate. People that the society tried very hard to just forget. After all, did these people pay taxes. Did they work in a place, were they useful. No. And because of that the lucky people around them spurned them. They were only the poor, the downtrodden.

But also human beings. When exactly had society forgotten that fact?

They finally spotted the building, an old, four-storied grey apartment building that had definitely seen better days. There were no lights, except from the small windows in the basement. Morton heart skipped a beat. Maybe it had been an omission, or maybe the guy had just left. Or maybe he was still there. And then it would all end tonight.. He stopped the car and got out. He turned to his partner, who was also standing up.

"Grab your gun. Might be trouble, that one." In fact, if rumors and facts matched, he might be a lot of trouble.

"Shouldn't we call for reinforcements?" asked Donald worriedly. The older man considered that for a few moments, then shook his head.

"Lets have a look first." And with that, he took the stairs the girl had indicated. With a sigh, Donald followed.

They made their way through a hall that smell of mold somewhat, but still seemed remarkably well-preserved. In fact, there seemed to have been certain restorations made to the place. Most probably Storm, trying to make his home snugger. It showed also that the man had grown attached to the place, and that increased the fact that he might still be there, if only for a brief time.

They finally made their way to the door they wanted, and his partner put himself to the other side. Morton nodded at him, and then, using his leg in one taut kick, he opened the door with a bang.

"Police! Freeze!" He bellowed to what seemed to be an empty living room. Rather well-decorated, but still lacking the normal warmth of home. There were doors to the sides, but they were lit and empty as well. He cursed, they had missed him. The game of cat and mouse was doomed to continue for a while still, it seemed.

Then, making them both jump, voice rang out, happy, carefree, and with an edge that placed definite doubts upon its sanity.

"Well, hello! Finally the brave policemen show up! It was about time, I was expecting you!"

Morton and Donald exchanged glances, then cautiously made their way to the room where the voice had sounded from. The door was opened up a bit. Morton hesitated to open it, not knowing what could be lurking on the other side of it. To his distress and frustration, the voice on the other side seemed to read his thoughts.

"Come on, mister Morton! Open the door, I won't bite you!"

Angry at his hesitation, fearful of the fact the man knew his name, the inspector flung open the door, an both entered with the revolvers pointed in front of them. It was a small room, plain with nothing more than a table, a chair, and a computer linked to a camera. The computer screen was on.

On it stood Thomas Storm, grinning.

"Hello again. Can you believe I managed to get all this nifty stock. That's what you get when a shady electronics dealer owes you one. But it does allow a very special face-to-face, no?" he is tone was light, it all seemed like a big joke. "So you followed Laureen's tidbits, didn't you?"

Morton nodded gravely. "She was very cooperative to tell everything she knew from the moment she was abducted up to the moment she escaped."

Storm guffawed at this. "Escape! As if I didn't see, didn't know, didn't just LET HER ESCAPE! Hehehehehe! Ah, this is grand. What a bunch of idiots you are. Should have brought Jer. He knows me better. He'd know what I mean. You're losers."

Morton had heard such sentences too often as a policeman and inspector to very much fazed about it all. Insults from psychos meant little to him. "It seems we'll have to play a bit of cat and mouse with you, won't we mister Storm?"

"Oh no. Oh no. I can assure you, I don't think so. In fact, I can assure you of something. The reckoning I want is with Jer, not with you. You, sirs, are nothing to me. Dust in the wind."

"What does he mean?" asked Donald, worried. Morton only shook his head, a cold feeling settling upon him. He had underestimated this asshole, he knew it. Badly. Maybe he SHOULD have called Storm, instead of coming here flying. It seemed his intuition had failed him.

"You see, gentlemen," continued the image jovially "There was one other who owed me a favor. A master of explosives!" he started to laugh "And in FIVE SECONDS, YOU'LL SEE THE GREATEST AND LAST FIREWORKS OF YOU LIVES!" And he started to laugh again. Behind Morton, Donald cried out, turned to run.

Morton just stared at the laughing man. Who brought himself under control and told him one last thing.

"I'm gonna leave London with a bloody bang friend. But you won't see it. Its ONLY for my DEAR cousin!"

And on that, Morton's world became white as snow.


And then Henry Morton knew no more. He had been right. It had all ended tonight.

It was just not the end he would have wanted.

________________________________________________

Here it is, Chapter 23! Prepare yourselves, things are about to become nasty in Chapter 24! I hope you liked this one, however! ^_^

Stay tuned for Chapter 24!

Jeremy