Honey Trap
A Weiss Kreuz fanfiction by laila

Part 4: Lady Dynamite

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! What in the Hell is going on here? Ogawa's meant to be a drugs baron, isn't he? So what in the name of all that's holy does he think he's doing? Why's he looking at me like he's imagining… God, I've got no idea what he's imagining but I'm double damn sure it ain't any kind of a seduction. And to think I was worried about what would happen if the guy tried to kiss me. Right now, him trying to kill me looks a more likely prospect.

"Ogawa?" I take a pace backward. I forget the –san. I only just manage to remember I'm supposed to sound like a girl.
"What's the matter?" He asks, coldly. I hate that bloody smile.
He grabs my arm. I wince. "… you're hurting me." I say lamely. I only just manage not to shout cut that out!

For a brief, insane moment, I wonder if Ogawa's sudden turn for the psychotic means he's got wise. Then I realize he hasn't. He's just a violent bastard who gets off on hurting girls. I also realize what I really need right about now is Youji and his enraged chivalry and his woman's enemy is mine act. Too bad Youji's not here. Too busy with real women to worry about an ersatz one. Thanks a million, Kudou!

No wonder Ogawa likes them innocent. No wonder he asked all those questions about where I was from and seemed glad when I told him I was new in town and ditched by my date. No wonder the bastard was giving me the creeps! If I get out of this one alive, and right now that's looking pretty damn debatable, I swear the other three are really going to pay for this. As if all the humiliation I've been put through in the course of this bloody mission wasn't quite bad enough, now this old pervert's trying to kill me!

"Let go!" Whoa. I kind of forget how loud I can yell when I'm not actually doing it.
He slaps me. "Shut up!" For a moment I'm too relieved the wig's still in place to realize he's slapped me. This is good because it's the only thing that stops me from breaking his nose.

Play along, I tell myself almost frantically. How hard can it be to act caught out and scared, anyway? Of course, when I'm scared I get really angry but it wouldn't do for Ogawa to know that. I concentrate on looking absolutely terrified and try to ignore how furious I feel. Didn't anyone in Kritiker know this guy gets cheap thrills out of hurting women? And if they did, why the Hell did they want me to get him alone? I remind myself to get Manx, too. And Persia. This is all Persia's bloody fault. I decide that, out of all the people I hate, I definitely hate Persia the most. Still, Aya's gonna be here in a minute, right? Right? I can hang on that long and God knows I really don't want to tangle with this bastard myself. Not when he's got me drunk and unarmed.

Play along. Sure. Right. Fine. I'm a girl, I'm clueless and I'm shit scared. That means I can't swear and I can't try to smash his face in no matter how much immediate satisfaction it would give me. What would the real Sakura do? Burst into tears and scream for Aya. Okay, maybe not…

"What are you doing?" That sounded more like a demand than a plea.
"Nothing." He snaps. "Just you behave yourself!"

What Ogawa's doing is half-carrying, half-dragging me toward that alarming bed of his whilst I occupy myself with trying to pull his hair out by the roots, which seems a sufficiently girly form of fighting back. Jesus Christ, he's strong! Of course, I'm pretty strong myself but if I'm pretending to be a scared teenage girl how the Hell can I fight back the way I'd like to? Still, it's a strange idea of nothing some people have, huh?

(Where's Aya gotten off to anyway, that's what I want to know!)

I grit my teeth and bear it when the old bastard practically flings me onto his bed. It's actually very comfortable. In any other circumstances I wouldn't mind being here but right now I definitely do not want to know and try to scramble off it. He grabs me by the wrist and drags me back toward him, knocking me off balance and a clutter of pillows to the floor. I fall heavily, would have been much heavier if we'd not been fighting on a double bed, I'm actually really glad Youji isn't here, what the fuck must this look like, not good I bet. I yelp. God damn, that hurt!

"Play nice." He suggests, pinning me beneath him.
"Fuck you," I snap. Whoops. Forgot myself for a moment there.
That surprises him. "Little girls shouldn't use words like that." He says irritably, twisting one of my wrists behind my back. I try and kick him, miss, and send the bedside lamp and a pitcher of water tumbling to an early grave. He wasn't expecting that, either. I guess I'm well and truly fucking his sick little sex plan up and I'm delighted. By rights I should probably have started crying or begging him not to hurt me by now, or something like that, but I'm not that interested in playing along.
"What the…" I sound panicky. Where's Aya got to? "What do you want, goddamn it?" Hey, why can't I stop cursing?
"Never you mind, my dear." He says. He smiles again. It takes all my self-control not to punch that smile.

He's looking at me like he's trying to decide what to do next. I realize my disguise isn't going to hold up for much longer, not if Ogawa's after getting touchy-feely. No doubt what this guy's after now and I'd guess this is only the entrée in terms of what he's got planned. Too bad he's going to have to change them. Now I really start struggling, which I'll admit is a bit bloody late, and all I manage to do is rip the bedsheets with the heel of one of these dumb shoes. He's found the zip on the back of my dress and, as he starts working it down, he puts his free hand on my upper thigh. I go tense. Where in the world is that stupid fucking bastard Aya!

Then Ogawa freezes.

It's weird. He just stops dead, like someone hit a pause button. Oh, yeah. Women's legs are soft, right? My leg is not soft. Doesn't help that women don't spend most of their lives playing soccer and killing people. I'm trying to work out how to turn this to my advantage when he makes a fierce grab for what he thinks is my bust. Too bad I don't have a bust, never have done and never will do for that matter. I guess what he finds there feels even more wrong than my leg did. Maybe I should have winced or something?

"What the Hell!" Ogawa demands.
I give him a panicky grin. "Um, whoops?"

Then, since Aya clearly isn't going to show up until I'm either dead or headed that way, I think screw it. Giving in to impulse I drive one knee into Ogawa's gut, shove him off me and make a lunge for the door only to trip on the rug, falling into a delicate little coffee table and dragging it down with me. I should have known I was doing too well with these damn shoes! I land on the floor in an undignified sprawl where I'm joined by a load of hotel silverware and what feels like about a gallon of thankfully lukewarm coffee, but at this stage I really don't have a lot of pride left to wound so I scramble back to my feet and carry on regardless. Ogawa pushes himself up from a tangle of bedsheets. He looks like Gajira emerging from the stormy seas, only about ten thousand times less friendly.

"Stop, you bastard!"
I can't restrain myself. "What's the matter, don't you want to fuck me any more?"

And I grab one of the vases and hurl it in his general direction then run for the door, struggling desperately with the lock. Either it's stiff or I'm way too panicky to do the job properly because nothing bloody happens for an almost comedic length of time. I heave my ludicrous evening bag at the guy while I'm working. The thing bounces off his head and into a corner, which is pretty useless but strangely satisfying all the same. Finally I force the lock open, flinging the door open and slamming it shut in Ogawa's face. That must hold him up for all of two seconds.

I don't wait to see if he's following or not. I make a break for it, slipping slightly on the stupid heels as I try to find the exit. Damnation, and I thought walking in these things was hard? I find a bodyguard, probably one of Ogawa's, a few feet down the corridor and nail him where it'll do most damage when he tries to grab me by the arm. Perhaps I didn't need to kick him quite that hard because his eyes bug out and he collapses to the floor in a whimpering heap, but what the Hell…

Then there's a godawful bang and a searing pain in my side as something clips it. I stop short and instinctively reach down to check what hit me. When I lift my hand away, the fingers of the silly lace glove I'm wearing are stained red. Oh. I'm bleeding? Someone just tried to shoot me and damn near managed as well—

"Get back here!"

Turns out this is where I discover Ogawa's got a gun. Thanks again, karma!

"Bloody well make me!"

I don't stop to think about it. I just start running again, Ogawa in hot pursuit. He fires at me a second time but this time he misses completely and blasts seven shades of Hell out of an innocent plaster wall instead. Oh yeah, he's drunk too. Thank you, God, and this time I actually mean it.

Can't find the lift so the fire escape'll have to do. I ignore the little green sticker politely informing me that this door is alarmed. How the Hell can a door be alarmed? It's not running for its life from a homicidal drug baron, is it? I practically fall onto the bar that opens the double doors and nearly land myself on my ass again when the thing swings forward, spilling me off my feet. I grab the door to steady myself. An alarm starts shrieking insistently and I duck out of the door and wouldn't you just know it, it's started raining like it'll never let up. Brilliant. The cold stings the wound in my side. I grit my teeth against it and mutter a selection of colorful curses. At least it'll sober me up, I think grimly, as if being shot at wasn't enough to do that.

Aya's just moved to the absolute top of my shit list for this. He's usually the bloody professional one out of the four of us, what's he doing leaving me stuck with some old psycho? Don't tell me Takatori's shown up here or something stupid like that! I really hate him now. I hate Youji, too. Maybe Youji's misdirected him. Great. Just fantastic. I am going to wring your fucking neck, Youji Kudou, so help me God!

The stairs are metal. That irritating latticed stuff. No way would that mix with high-heeled shoes even if I wasn't drunk and the stairs weren't wet and therefore slippery and treacherous. Fall down these things and I'll be lucky not to break my bloody neck. I slam the door shut behind me and lean heavily on it, hoping to hold it closed with body weight alone, as I fumble with the ankle straps on my shoes. Ogawa starts trying to force it open. I try to keep the thing shut. It's not easy. It seems to take a long time to get the bloody buckles loose but, once that's done, I kick the shoes off where I stand and run down the stairs, stumbling slightly in my haste. A moving target's harder to hit, right?

… Yup, Ogawa's still following me. Remind me again what I did to deserve this?

Three flights from the bottom, I decide to speed things up a bit and jump over the side of the fire escape, landing heavily but luckily on my feet in what looks like a goods yard. There's only one exit and as if life didn't suck enough already it's gated and the gate in question is ten feet high and locked. My side protests me hurling myself about the place. I tell it to deal. I haven't checked how deep this wound is and I'm not about to either. I remind my body that if it doesn't want to be in a lot worse pain then it'll shut the Hell up complaining and let me get on with running away. It doesn't seem to convince it because the wound still nags at me. I press one hand to it, wincing. How badly am I bleeding anyway? No, forget that, ignorance is bliss.

Ogawa fires at me again, from the staircase. He misses. I'm getting the feeling he ain't a great shot but he doesn't have to be. He only has to get lucky once and that'll be the end of it. Once again I just can't resist it: I flip him the finger then bolt, desperately looking for a way out of here, but if that's too much to ask for then cover or a weapon would do. By this stage I'm not even surprised when there's no sign of Omi. Don't tell me – he's covering the front exit. Do the others want this guy to kill me or something? This is beginning to look deliberate and I'm beginning to get really annoyed.

I duck behind a pile of plastic crates full of old beer bottles and try to think. I need to come up with some kind of plan, right? Okay, um… I can't think of a bloody thing. Well, it's not like Kritiker bothered with me because of my razor-sharp wits and stunning capacity for incisive, analytical thought. That's what we've got Omi for, isn't it? I'm just here because I can move fast and hit hard. Unless you count understanding the use of the offside trap and when not to stick with a four-four-two formation I can't think tactically to save my life, which is exactly what I've got to do here. Damn it all, I should not be the one doing this!

I peer round the crates, hoping for a glimpse of Ogawa. There. Walking round in circles, poking in corners, glancing this way and that, scowling and playing with that damn gun of his. Worse, his bodyguards are getting in on the act too: there's two on the staircase and one in the yard. I don't need to be an analytical genius to know this means he's still heartily pissed with me and if he catches me I'm dead. I also know that this is a bloody useless hiding place and it'd be a hell of a lot better to get out on my own terms than be forced out by Ogawa. My best shot's to get onto the street, or anywhere there's a ready-made body of witnesses. He can't exactly shoot me in the middle of a crowded street, can he? Well, can he?

"Over there!"
"Oh, shit." I mutter. Looks like one of them saw me move. Nice work, Hidaka. Still, it's only what I'd expected going by my current form…

Ogawa turns and starts prowling towards me, grinning and raising the gun. I panic again (why the Hell didn't I come armed?), then do the only thing I can think of. I shove the crates over on top of him, sending old bottles and stale beer everywhere, and run for the gate. The bloody thing looks near as dammit unscaleable up close, and there's a set of nasty-looking spikes on the top, designed to deter people from climbing over. And you know something? I really don't give a shit.

"Stop!"

In your dreams, buster!

(You know how you think the craziest things in stressful moments? Well, it's just occurred to me this would be bloody impossible in a kimono.)

I cut my hands on the way up, rip the dress beyond redemption whilst scrambling over the top and only get back down by means of something I like to describe as a controlled fall. I land in a puddle on all fours, grazing my palms and knees and winding myself in the process, and I'm almost surprised to realize that I'm still alive and in one piece as I look quickly back over my shoulder. Ogawa's shouting something to his bodyguards but at this stage I couldn't care less what it was. I stand up again and grab the gate to steady myself, quickly checking myself over for injuries.

After a moment I discover my right ankle feels kind of funny. It feels funnier still when I try to put my weight on it. Actually, it's more like it hurts like Hell. The damn thing actually gives way when I try to run off and I hit the deck for what feels like the ten thousandth time today. My head hits the kerb on the way down and everything goes unexpectedly black.

I open my eyes and wish I hadn't bothered when I discover I'm lying on my side in the gutter, I'm still wearing that bloody dress and yes, it's still raining. I don't think I passed out but there's no sign of Ogawa. The words small, mercies and thankful have just entered the equation. I curse and drag myself upright, feeling dizzy. My head aches and when I rub at it I discover a lump there which feels about the same size as a golf ball even through the wig. Of all the things I could have done to myself trying to get over that gate I just had to go and sprain my ankle, didn't I? And how is it possible to injure yourself worse falling into a bloody gutter than scaling a ten-foot gate, or however high that thing was?

Perhaps you just have to be Ken Hidaka.

Why does shit like this always pick on me to happen to and never to someone like Aya? Just once I'd like to see Aya go through something like this while I get to stand there and call him an idiot. That would make a nice bloody change!

I get up. It sounds easy but it isn't. What the fuck have I done to my head? Well it's just too bad, I think grimly as I walk slowly up the side street I've literally fallen into, I want to stay alive to experience the full joy of having this wonderful array of wounds, thank you. I'm already limping heavily. I really hope I don't do anything else to myself this evening, I feel like a damn Minor Injuries clinic as it is. Gritting my teeth, I head toward the main road. I almost make it. Before I get the chance to get out into the open and throw myself on the hopefully tender mercies of some passerby who won't mind being harassed by a soaked, bleeding guy in a torn Chinese dress covered with grime and blood (oh, and badly ripped hose, I'd kind of forgotten about that) and won't immediately call the police or more likely the men in white coats, I'm cut off, so to speak, at the pass.

"Just where do you think you're going?"
I look up. "Oh, fuck."

Terrific. Of all the people out there who could have come to say Hello to me, didn't it just have to be Ogawa again.

Guess I must have blacked out back there after all. Not for long, no, but quite long enough for this bastard to get round the front and find me. He steps into the side street and blocks my escape route. The only way I can go now is back the way I came and really, what's the point of that? He gestures to his bodyguards to stay back then takes two paces toward me, drawing his gun. Not to be outdone, I take three paces away. The third is because he reeks of stale beer.

One question. Where in the high holy Hell are my teammates? Now is not the time for them to decide to be useless bastards!

"Hi," I say weakly.
"Let's dispense with the pleasantries." He says nastily. "Suppose you tell me just what you think you're playing at?"
"And if I don't want to?" I ask.
He raises the gun and points it between my eyes. I stare down the barrel and really wish I hadn't opened my mouth. I don't like the way this is going. I'm cold, wet, dizzy, injured, in pain, absurdly underdressed and I've got a guy who smells like an explosion in a brewery pointing a gun at my head. If anything else could happen to make me uncomfortable at this point I definitely don't want to know about it. "Then I'll shoot you," he says, which to my mind is a pretty gratuitous thing to say.
"So?" I say irritably. "You're going to shoot me anyway."
Ogawa nods. "Quite correct. I am going to shoot you anyway. But this way," he smiles again, "you stay alive for a little longer."
"Oh." I say intelligently. "Right."

As well as feeling utterly infuriated (this really is a stupid bloody joke of a way to die, isn't it?), I'm also kind of torn. On the one hand, I don't want to tell this guy anything. On the other, if I don't he'll just kill me that one bit quicker. Aya and the others might have been doing a bloody lousy job of backing me up so far, but – though I'll admit it's insanely optimistic of me – I'm still not prepared to give up on them altogether. Partly because if I do, I'm already as good as dead.

"So? How about it?" He asks.
He takes another pace toward me. I step away again and bump into the wall. I'm beginning to feel nervous. Who could blame me? "What do you want to know?"
"Your name would be a good place to start." He says coolly. "It's obviously not Sakura, is it?"
I can't think of anything it'd harm, so I tell him. "Ken." Amazing how persuasive a gun to the head can be.
"Ken." He says thoughtfully. He seems even more annoyed to discover I've got a guy's name. "Okay, Ken. And what was this little charade in aid of, may I ask?" A few feet away, one of the bodyguards snickers. Probably he thinks it's kind of funny that his boss tried to go to bed with a card-carrying man. Actually, it is kind of funny. I giggle myself, then yelp when Ogawa takes exception to this and jams the gun against my temples. I press myself further into the wall in an attempt to get away from the psycho bastard. "I'm glad you find this so amusing," he hisses. "Now are you going to talk or not?"
"It was a joke." I say lamely. It sounds stupid even to my own ears and I'm used to sounding stupid. Still, even if a gun to the head is persuasive it ain't so persuasive I'm about to tell him I'm an assassin and this was part of a plan to kill him which is going a little bit wrong. Telling a paranoiac you're out to get him is a good way to end up very dead very fast. "Can you point that thing someplace else? You're scaring the shit outta me." Now that sounded really stupid.
Ogawa looks sadistically gratified at that. No wonder this sick fuck ended up on Persia's shit list! "A joke, hm? Well, you can laugh this off."

And he draws back the hammer of the gun. I wince and close my eyes. The sudden heavy thud's out of place.

I hear a slight movement, as if Ogawa's looked round, and the gun's lifted slightly away from my forehead. It's still close, though, I can just tell. I don't look round, but that's largely because I've got my eyes closed and I'm more worried about the gun than the noises off. Then someone cries out in a weirdly stifled sort of way and there's a metallic clatter as something hits the pavement. From the sound of it that something was Ogawa's gun. Since I'm clearly not dead yet I decide to risk it and open my eyes, to be greeted by the admittedly satisfying sight of Ogawa gurgling and clutching at his neck as the life's choked out of him.

Youji to the rescue. How charmingly cliché.

I really wish I didn't feel so pathetically grateful to see him.

"You're fucking late, man!" I yell as he lets Ogawa go. The guy's body slides to the floor with a gratifyingly final thump as Youji steps into the light. He's in his work clothes by now, guess he didn't want to ruin his good suit, and he's almost posing with that damn wire of his. That he's doing it for my benefit is kind of bizarre. Over Youji's shoulder, I catch sight of Omi stood by the entrance of the alleyway, a backup dart between his fingers. The kid smiles at me. Almost in spite of myself, I return it. Well, I guess that explains what happened to the bodyguards.
Youji grins. "I was about to ask if you were okay, but going by that little outburst I'd say you were going to be fine."
I'm not at all sure what I'd rather do to Youji right now. It's a close call between hugging him and strangling him. "Outburst? This is righteous bloody anger, goddammit! Where in the flaming Hell were you guys earlier? What kind of a plan was that apart from a really goddamn stupid one? And where's Aya got to anyway?"
Omi giggles anxiously and apologizes. "Aya-kun went the other way," he explains. "Well, we didn't know where you'd gone…"
"Why didn't you stay in the room?" Youji asks, like it wasn't totally bloody obvious.
I bridle. I'm not in the mood to take this right now. "What the fuck kind of a question is that, Youji?" I demand. "What was I supposed to do, stay put and get shot? Don't tell me you sent Aya to the wrong fucking room!"
"Ken," Youji suggests, "shut up, okay?"
He wants me to kill him, doesn't he? "Shut up? I nearly got killed no thanks to you! Do you have any idea how much shit I've had to put up with tonight because of this stupid bloody mission?" Even without him kissing me in the middle of the goddamn club, not that I'm about to let Omi in on that little detail. I remind myself to ask Youji what the Hell he did it for. But later. I don't have the energy for it right now. "Never again, okay? Never again!"

I punctuate the remark by yanking off the lace gloves and dropping them to the ground, where they land in a puddle. The wig's slightly crooked and it's spilling fake hair into my face. By some minor miracle it's stayed largely in place all the way through this. I start to readjust it then decide that I really can't be fucked. Ogawa's dead, thank Christ, the mission's over, I'm Ken Hidaka, I'm still alive and I'm a guy. Always have been, always will be, thank you and goodnight. To Hell with this stupid wig. I grab a handful of it and tug it off, hurling it at the damp, huddled lump that is Ogawa with an appropriate amount of contempt and running one hand through my own mercifully short hair. Just for a moment, it's raining hairpins.

I feel more like myself than I have done all day.

Youji's looking at me funny. Omi looks like he really wants to laugh but for the good of his short-term health he's obviously decided not to. He's smart, is Omi. "What?"
"You look like Ken in around half a dress." Youji says.
"Isn't that what I'm supposed to look like?" I retort, tugging couple of stray hairpins out and flicking them in his general direction. It's only exactly what I am. "Anyway, who cares. Ogawa's dead, let's go home. I need a shower and a change of clothes."
Youji nods thoughtfully. "Good point. You're practically falling out that thing. I hope Manx didn't like that dress…" Something of the sort's occurred to me and I lean wearily back against the wall, tugging at the ruined skirt. I must have left a good quarter of my outfit on top of that gate. Still, Manx isn't stupid. She knows what we get up to on missions. She couldn't have given me anything she really liked, could she? How could she? I mean, the thing didn't even fit her! "Oh, man, I'm so dead." I moan. "This is just too bloody ironic, I get through all this and Manx shoots me for fucking up her dress." Now there's a sentence I never thought I'd say.
"She'll understand, Ken-kun," Omi says, and smiles perkily.
"Fine." I say wearily. "Now can we go home, please?"
"Sure thing, Kenken." Youji says with a grin. "Unless you'd rather… okay, okay, I'm leaving it."

And I'm bloody grateful for it. Still, it's not like Youji just to back off so I wonder what brought on that rare display of tact until I spot, out of the corner of my eye, Omi giving him one of those worryingly emphatic cease-and-desist looks I bet he picked up off Aya before turning and heading back to the street, exchanging a few quiet words with Aya over his comm. As Omi starts to walk off, Youji shrugs off his coat and hands it to me. Doesn't say a thing, just holds it out and waits for me to take it. Well I do, but that's all I do.

"I'm bleeding." I say anxiously.
Youji shrugs. "It's seen worse. Clothes can be washed, Ken."

That settles it; if he doesn't care then I certainly don't. Well, what do you know, miracles can happen. I put it on then step away from the wall and over Ogawa, wincing when I try and walk on my injured ankle. Fucking fantastic, I'm supposed to be coaching tomorrow night. Youji notices and gently but firmly grabs me round the waist, pulling one of my arms over his shoulders and taking most of my weight, then smiles at me like he means it. I begin to wonder if I hate him quite as badly as all that. Perhaps I won't be killing him when we get home after all, even if it's only because I suddenly realize I'm absolutely done in. It can wait; I'll kill him tomorrow instead. If anyone so much as shows me a red Chinese dress after tonight, it'll be about ten million years too soon.

Mission accomplished.

Let's never mention any of this ever again.

-ende-

And all good things come to an end. I think I can hear the screams of relief from here. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed this story over the last few weeks. I'm extremely grateful – especially for the way you guys have borne with me during a rather, shall we call it unpredictable updating schedule. I hope you enjoyed the ride, weird though it was. Needless to say, I'm still open for any other comments, criticism, pledges of enduring love or hate mail. Contact me at the review button. Thanks once again to all my readers and reviewers!

Thanks for reading!
- laila