Incident Number Six:  Pure, Unadulterated Chaos

"It turns out Saya is a gang hot-spot.  It's listed in the police database as a place to keep an eye on.  They've busted several people near it for gang shootings, et cetera."  I took a moment to pass a terribly slow van on my motorcycle before continuing my on-the-road briefing, "I managed to acquire a sketchy map of the inside from the police.  It'll have to do.  It turns out Takahiro had two children, a son and a daughter.  He apparently disowned his son and left the company to his daughter, Saya, whom the company is named after.  His son, Asato, was taken in for questioning for the too-accidental death of his sister, but was released for lack of evidence.  Saya, the former company, is listed as his current place of residence." 

I stopped talking to squeeze the brakes at a red light.  I almost hadn't noticed it.  Of course, I was running on a good three hours of sleep in the past two days.  I got a not-so-lovely chat from Mrs. Sakamoto for falling asleep in calculus and day's detention that I'd be serving tomorrow.  Maybe I could sleep through that, too.  At least I finished my history paper. 

"The mission is to kill Takahiro Asato and to destroy the building completely.  Whatever he's been doing in there is most assuredly not a good thing if it's produced a creature like Ishida.  He needs to be taken down.  There's an alarm system on the building that should be simple to take out from the outside, and I doubt he has any guards other than a few random gang members loitering about.  His relationship with the gangs is unknown, so be careful." 

I ran though the list in my head.  Yep, that was just about everything. 

"Meet you guys there in ten minutes.  Bombay out." 

I stormed down the hallway, sneakers flapping on the cement floors. 

That place was absolutely insane. 

The basement was a meth lab, apparently run to support the clone research found on the lower few floors.  It was sprinkled with addicted teenagers wielding all sorts of creative weaponry, from two by fours to cans of mace to AK-47's.  Where they got those I didn't really want to know.  So far, however, they'd been easy to take out since they weren't really in an appropriate state of mind to be fighting.  A can of mace won't do you any good if you've got a crossbow dart protruding from your skull, after all, and an AK-47's only deadly if you're coherent enough to load it. 

To recap, we'd been lucky they were all higher than a Boeing 747 crash-landing on Everest, or we would have actually had to work. 

I skidded through the doorway to what I'd assumed was Asato's bedroom, crouched low, darts poised, to find Aya already running him through with his katana. 

"Confirm he's dead."  I said quickly, making sure to keep my distance from the bed where we'd caught Asato by surprise.  I watched as Aya twisted his sword in the man's gut and wrenched it out again. 

"I got all the data, Bombay."  Ken said.

"I'm setting the last explosive now." Yohji reported.

"Excellent.  Meet at the rendezvous point in five.  Don't forget the detonation device, Balinese."

"Yeah, yeah, give me some credit.  Geez." 

I grinned, and then heard a gunshot.  Before I even realized what had happened I'd whirled around and flung a dart.  It stuck straight into the windpipe of a petite woman with a derringer in one hand.  She must have just emerged from the bathroom.  How stupid of me to not check for other doors.  She dropped faster than a spider from a Koneko girl's panicked grip.  I fell nearly as fast.  Suddenly my legs wouldn't hold me anymore, and I was kneeling on the ground. 

Then it started to hurt, and it hurt like a bitch.  I had a hole in my chest.  There was so much blood.

I fell over. 

I tried to talk, to say I'd been shot, but it didn't work.  Aya was beside me in a second, turning me over and scooping me into his arms.

"The target and his wife are dead.  Omi's been shot."  He spoke calmly into his headset. 

"What?!"  I heard Ken gasp through my own headset. 

"Meet at the rendezvous point, now.  Balinese, start the car." 

He started to run.  The world was hazy and slippery, like I couldn't quite catch a hold of it with my vision.  One arm flopped and my head lulled against Aya's chest.  I was bleeding all over his trench coat, I thought dully that I should apologize. 

He made it to the car incredibly fast, it felt like, and I found myself in the back seat looking up at Ken. 

"I need a plastic baggie and some tape."  He demanded after giving me a once-over.

"What the fuck for?"  Yohji asked, his voice slightly raised from its normal tone. 

"There aren't any.  Unless you want this one, but it has goldfish it in."  Aya said from the passenger seat, sounding like he always did.

"Dump them out and give it to me.  Quickly."  He peeled my shirt off of me, and I gasped as the violent movement jarred me in all the wrong places, "I'm sorry, Omi.  Hang in there."

I heard the sound of ripping tape and rustling plastic, and then a soft curse from Ken. 

"There's too much blood, the tape won't stick."

"What are you fucking taping him for?!"  Yohji snarled.

"He's got a sucking chest wound."  Ken returned just as acidly, ripping off his shirt.  Ken really did pay attention in first aid.  I was proud of him. 

My vision dimmed another notch.  The inside of the car was now very dark and blurry.  I couldn't tell Ken from the ceiling light.  As he wiped at my chest with his shirt I tried to talk to him.

"Ken, I…" my voice was all gargled and soft.  I ended up coughing blood onto him.  Oops. 

"Shh… Don't talk."

Why do people always say that?  Wasn't it obvious that I was dying and had something important to say?  What if I never got to say it?  It was getting harder to breathe and my breaths were shallow and full of bubbles.  I was suddenly terrified.  Is this what dying is really like?  What if I never got a chance to tell him? 

"No, Ken…" More hacking, more spattering blood, "I'm… I'm sorry."  I wasn't entirely sure what I was apologizing for.  Everything, probably.  The fact that I was dying, and I couldn't even tell him what I felt for him. 

"Stop, Omi.  It's okay.  Everything's okay, you're going to be fine.  Don't worry."  He pulled me up into him and wrapped his shirt around my back to stop the bleeding there.  I knew it wasn't going to work, and that I was going to die. 

"It doesn't hurt anymore."  I whispered. 

"Omi?"  I could barely feel his fingers in my hair, "Shit, he's going into shock.  Drive faster, Yohji!" 

Then I was gone. 

I woke up to that terribly trite beeping, some oxygen-enforcing plastic over my mouth and nose, and a bag of blood and other things hovering above me.  I took a deep breath and felt kind of giddy.  Oxygen is a euphoric, you know.  According to Fight Club that's why they give it to you when airplanes are crashing.  So you don't panic.  I was far from panicking.  In fact, I wasn't really sure what was going on. 

But at least I wasn't dead.  They don't have respirators and heart monitors in the afterlife.  That would kind of defeat the purpose, I think.  I rolled my head over to take a look around.  Ken was awkwardly asleep in a chair near my bed; his head angled in such a way I knew his neck would hurt when he woke up.  He looked terribly cute when he was asleep.  I wondered how long he'd been here, and if he ever left.  The thought made me feel fuzzy.  I watched him sleep for awhile, collecting my scattered memories from the recesses of my oxygen-blurred brain. 

Well, the mission was a success.  Everyone's dead who should be. 

I felt really weird.  I bet I was on more than oxygen.  Moving my hand wasn't supposed to be that entertainingly difficult. 

I finally managed to get the mask off my face when Ken woke up.

"Omi?" He slurred, "Are you awake?"

"Yeah," I croaked.  My mouth tasted terrible and my throat felt like someone had shoved a pitchfork down it.  I couldn't feel the bullet hole at all.  I knew I'd feel it later, though, so I didn't worry about it.

He got up, rubbed his eyes and came over to me, perching delicately on the edge of my bed. 

"How do you feel?"

"Okay." I said, "How are you?"

He grinned. "Fine now." 

My brain couldn't wrap around what he meant by that, so I shoved it aside.

"We were really worried about you.  I'm glad you're okay." 

He leaned over and pushed some of my bangs away from my face.  I could see a few flecks of dried blood on his hairline, probably from where I'd hacked on him.  He was very, very close to me.  A jolt ricocheted up my spine when I realized he was about to kiss me.

The door suddenly and noisily opened and Yohji and Aya came in bearing flowers.  Ken blushed and pulled away from the bed so quickly my brain hurt watching him, and his eyes skirted the room embarrassedly.  Yohji came over, ruffled my hair, and set the azaleas on the bedside table. 

I fucking hate flowers.  I think I'd rather have poison ivy. 

Yohji is such a bastard. 

--El Fin--

trucizna says:

Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed and read my story, and for hanging with me through the long gaps between chapters.  I appreciate it endlessly, and it makes me feel all gushy inside.  In a good way, of course. 

Thanks to Jen-chan and Kitty-Kat Allie for reviewing multiple times. 

Thanks for reading, folks!   I hope it didn't disappoint!