Blood

Chapter 13: The Long Night

By Fool's Gold

Disclaimer: Garou Densetsu (Fatal Fury), Ryuuko no Ken (Art of Fighting), The King of Fighters, and all related characters are the property of SNK-Playmore. No profit has been made from this fic.


Terry plodded on wearily, leading along another train of shell-shocked survivors through the cold, dark night. They huddled together in twos and threes, trying to glean whatever warmth they could from each other's bodies, shivering from both the shock that they had experienced and the chill which they endured as they made their way towards the station. The only thing that alleviated their misery was his presence: for Southtown's hero to appear, to help them in their dire situation, was a comforting note in the midst of desolation.

He didn't contest the view that they held. In the wake of Kain's betrayal, it was natural for confusion and panic to reign. Those who despaired would seek something – anything – to cling on to in their time of trouble. He'd seen it before at the turn of the century, when Kain himself had become the city's deliverer. The people had flocked to him, seeing him as the one who would restore Southtown, not just to functionality, but to glory once again.

He'd known better. And in their state, he would rather have them coming to him, ineffective and powerless as he was to reverse the destruction, than to another false messiah. As arrogant as he thought it sounded, he was at least sure of his own decency...

"Over here!" He heard Blue Mary's voice above the cacophony of the screaming wind, and headed in that direction, pushing his way through the storm. His body yielded to the urgings of his mind reluctantly, though it screamed at him to just fall over and rest – it would have been a fatal choice. But he gave himself a brief respite, at least; he fell back as the survivors caught sight of a light in the distance. They stumbled towards it raggedly, and he signalled to the police officer who had accompanied him to bring up the rear.

When the last man had passed into safety, he dragged his tired frame over to Mary's side, his entire body covered in a white coat of frost. "How's it going?"

Mary's smile was dangerously brittle. "Not too good, but at least things are stabilising. There was a point about an hour ago when the people were this close to rioting," she said, pinching the air to make her point. "The situation is much calmer now, and we're making decent inroads into the inner parts of the city." She turned away from him and sneezed windward. "Damn, it's a little chilly out here."

Terry smiled. He admired Mary's toughness, but even she wasn't immune to exposure. "Get some rest. I'll cover for you over here..."

"Can't afford it," she mumbled stuffily, rubbing her nose. "We're stretched pretty thin as it is, and it's still a long way to go before the dawn... And besides, it's not as though you're looking that fresh yourself."

Terry opened his mouth to say something, but the sudden commotion at the other end of the camp made him fall into silence. He turned, seeing Jun – what's she doing here? He thought, fearing the worst. He ran to her, with Mary and Kevin Rian close behind. "Jun! What's wrong?"

The frightened girl stumbled towards them breathlessly, falling onto her hands and knees as she came to a stop. "Jae – Mr. Kim – Freeman..." she panted, the words leaving her mouth in short, futile spurts.

Mary frowned, the only concession she made to her sudden dismay; the association between the three names only meant more trouble. "Not good," she muttered. "I'm going –"

"I'll handle this, Inspector," Kevin interjected. "I've got a score to settle with Freeman. Besides, you're needed here." There was a fury in his eyes that Mary could not have ignored: it was the right of the avenger of blood to deal with the murderer, and she would not deny him the chance, unprofessional as his desire was...

She nodded. "Don't get killed, then."


Goto fled, and Gato stalked through the snow in hot pursuit, tracing his father's tracks through the blizzard. He ploughed on, heedless of the wind that whipped around him, and continued on his hunt.

Before him, he heard his father call out, "So, Hiroshi... Give up yet?"

Gato's eyes narrowed. "Hiroshi died years ago, old man." He scanned his surroundings, but found no evidence that the man was there – his voice was the only sign. "He lies at the bottom of a waterfall, with three wounds on his back."

"He was a failure." The harsh judgement rang in Gato's ears, but failed to faze him. "It was a waste of time, teaching him..."

"Of course." Gato didn't want to waste his breath on small talk, but he knew that it gave him a better chance of drawing his father out... assuming that the older man didn't drive him to distraction first. Still, he could not avoid retorting, "And the fault lies with his teacher for not knowing better – but I'll see to it that you don't regret your decision much longer."

"True, so true." A man's faint image formed in the distance for an instant, vanishing as quickly as it had appeared, and Gato approached the spot warily. But he found nothing there save rapidly-vanishing footprints in the snow. He wiped the white flakes from his eyes, his pent-up rage collecting within him as he proceeded with his tracking.

The voice sounded once more in the distance, mingling with the howls in the air. "Remember our fight, Hiroshi? The one that sent you on your way down the assassin's path?"


"So, you're a killer." The young Hiroshi had inherited his father's features, but bore a stern frown in the place of Goto's smile – and the streak of disdain already ran a mile wide in him. "That explains your frequent 'business trips', doesn't it?"

Denying it would have been useless – the incriminating evidence in his son's hands made sure of it. "I see you've been going through my things again," Goto remarked with an easy calm; he showed no sign of being intimidated by the proof. In mock disgust, he muttered, "I knew I should've locked up that briefcase..."

Hiroshi was not amused. "Don't joke around with me, Father. How long have you been in the profession? Does Mother know?"

Goto noted, with faint alarm, that his son had made no mention of morals. "It's been quite a while, if I recall correctly. Long before I married your mother, as a matter of fact..." There was a dangerous sharpness behind his nostalgic tone. "Which reminds me: you obviously wouldn't come to me directly if it was your intent to rat me out. So... what do you want?"

A crafty smile appeared on Hiroshi's face. "Teach me."

The words were enough for the assassin to give pause, and he felt a terrible sense of foreboding as he scanned his son's face. The taint of cruelty was all too evident... That boy will never make a good assassin. A killer, perhaps; a person who takes lives for pleasure or to vent his anger... but he will never be able to keep his interest professional.

It changes nothing. If I do not lead him down this path, someone else will – or he may very well walk it of his own volition. The result will be the same. And knowing his nature, he will turn on me when the time comes – I cannot trust him, and certainly not after this.

Will I have the resolve to take him down when the time comes, or should I nip the problem in the bud?

He made his decision. "Not so fast, boy. I'll decide if you are up to scratch."

"What?" the youth exclaimed in disbelief, unable to comprehend his father's intent. "You can't be serious. I have the skill – after all, you were the one who taught me martial arts!"

"Be that as it may, I will decide if you are suitable for the craft. If you defeat me in a duel, I will train you. If not, you will pack your bags and leave this family forever. I shall not tolerate failure."

He watched as Hiroshi stalked away and slammed the door behind him, rattling the windows in the musty study room. This would be the answer.


"Of course. You forbade me from following in the trade... hypocrite. What, did you fear that I would supplant you?" Gato's resentment boiled over as he remembered what his father had done so many years ago – how he had thrown him out of the house without ceremony, banishing him for having tried to take up the killing profession.

There was irony in it: any other parent would have been proud to have their son carry on the family business. But when Goto found out about his son's discovery and the boy's intent to follow in his footsteps... there was no delight in his eyes. I should have exposed him that day, Gato thought.

"You think too highly of yourself. I knew my weakness – unlike you. It has been your undoing before, and it shall be so again." The voice sounded closer than it had been a while before...

"But what good is knowing your vulnerabilities if you can't cover them?" he taunted, waiting for his father to come out of hiding: the man had to be nearby. In a moment of cruelty, he exploited the one weak point that he knew his father had – family. "You were unable to cast aside sentiment when you saw her face, weren't you? You knew she was walking into danger, and so you tried to stop her. But she didn't listen."

He shot an evil smile at his surroundings, knowing that Goto was watching. "So, master assassin... Are you still vulnerable, now that the daughter you love is – or will be, anyway – dead?"

Fists clenched almost imperceptibly in the darkness, and Goto stepped out into plain view. He faced his son's grin with a stare that was colder than the blizzard they stood in, dropping the mild smile that had served as his shield all this while.

"No." There was no denial in that answer, just a mere confirmation of the stark reality that they both faced. "There are none left from my family who would hinder me."

"Good. Then let's fight."


"Ya know, for a guy who's just blown up half his own city, Kain's sure taking a long time to get here," Dong Hwan groused, idly fiddling with a loose screw on the spotlight casing. It came off easily in his hand.

"Ya know, for a guy who's likely to get shot on sight when Kain turns up, you're pretty relaxed," Jenet echoed in boredom, just before she screamed, "And stop taking my property apart, idiot! Spotlights don't grow on trees."

Dong Hwan gingerly replaced the screw back into its socket. "You're cute when you're angry, you know?" he began, only for Jenet to turn her nose up at him as she looked away in disgust. Rebuffed, he muttered in mock sulkiness, "Fine. See if I care," and contemplated the ramifications of removing another screw from the casing. He finally decided that it wasn't worth the trouble, and he resorted to the slacker's final recourse: tossing pebbles. Unfortunately, in the dusty factory, stones were few and far between...

To Jenet's infinite horror, the loose screw ended up soaring into the dark depths of the building's interior.

"YOU MORON!" she began, throttling Dong Hwan with great prejudice, and it was only by the greatest of miracles that he managed to retain his grip on the spotlight. "I'll see that you spend the next century paying for that lost screw, you..."

There was a shrill chitter from where the projectile had landed, and a brown shape dashed out into the quivering beam of light and stared at the quarrelling pair in bemusement.

"It's just – grk! – a rat..." Dong Hwan gasped, straining to look at the creature.

Jenet, however, had a different opinion. "Nope, and believe me, I know rats. Kain's a rat. You're a rat. That," she muttered, releasing her fingers as she dropped to one knee, "is a ferret. C'mere, boy."

Surprisingly enough, the ferret responded to her beckoning, scurrying up to her as she looked quizzically at it. Dong Hwan winced as he rubbed the finger marks on his neck, hearing the pirate muse aloud, "That's odd. I never expected you people to have ferrets in Second Southtown... Someone's pet?"

Someone's pet... He looked down, noting first the sleek shape of the animal that distinguished it from the more familiar species of pest, and then noticing the strange collar around its neck. "Hey... does that sound familiar to you?"

"It should, unless you happened to be fighting in your sleep for the whole of Maximum Mayhem – something which I wouldn't put past you," Jenet remarked bitingly. "The question remains, though: what's she doing here? And why isn't her pet with her?"

Dong Hwan dredged up a recollection from the morning's conversation, surprised at the coincidences that he had chanced upon in the space of only a few days. "I think I might have an idea..." he started, ready to show off all that he knew...

"Don't tell me – she's looking for her brother."

The wind left Dong Hwan's sails almost immediately. "In a nutshell, yes. So watcha gonna do?"

Jenet was already on her feet, her hand grabbing Dong Hwan's wrist as she began to move out. "I'm gonna investigate, that's what, and you're coming with me."

"And what about your paycheck?" Dong Hwan wasn't entirely reluctant either, but he felt the need to check on her motives. It was thoroughly unlike Bonne Jenet's character to suddenly walk away from a job, from what he knew of her: he would have thought that avarice held a greater place in her heart than curiosity.

He was wrong. "If that idiot can keep me waiting for such a long while, he can afford to wait for me in turn. After all, I'm not the one with the whole city after my head."


Kain detested the term "dicing with death": it sounded as though he left too much to chance. He preferred to have the scenario completely under his control – he was the piper, and Rock Howard was dancing to his tune.

He slipped aside, feeling another gust of wind brush by his side as Rock dashed past. Only a light glow formed around his hand, but it was sufficient to deflect the giant wing of energy that his nephew had unleashed – the two collided and dissipated in a burst of brilliance.

Rock slid along the floor, using his momentum to his advantage as he pivoted on a lowered foot. Pushing off, he flung himself at Kain in a mad rush as he made another futile attempt to take him down, his aura extending thickly around his body. With consummate grace, Kain simply sidestepped the attack and plunged another ethereal blade into his opponent's exposed back, playing the matador to Rock's wounded bull.

The youth's endurance was remarkable. As long as the dark power controlled his mind, there was no way that pain could enter it – he had become the typical berserker, sacrificing his sanity for the inhuman strength that accompanied madness. Typical Howard, Kain reflected. His own mind remained clear; his thoughts flowed as smoothly as his moves even as the battle continued to rage on – but they were elsewhere.

You missed the mark, Geese. Another projectile roared across the floor at him, and he sidestepped it gracefully, barely heeding the fragments of stone that flew up from its impact with the wall behind. We both knew that only the strong would receive the mandate to rule. But in your eyes, there was only one person mighty enough to claim that right – yourself. And safely ensconced in your iron grip, this town became weak.

Rock launched another attack as he advanced forwards in a battery of blazing punches, each strike a deathblow that would have settled their fight on the spot. But none of the punches found their mark. Weaving and dodging, his body a blur amidst the hail of violet, Kain merely avoided every single one as they drifted just past his face.

This town has become too dependent on its strongmen. The crimelord of Second Southtown is the one who holds the entire city up by his own power: take him away, and the house of cards collapses. But the man grows at the expense of the town, and not with it; and that was where you failed. You thought of expanding your empire first, and letting the rest of Southtown follow... but this town is nothing but a parasite. It leeches off a man's power, thus ensuring its own survival – and once he is too weak, it dispenses with him and seeks another host. So you died.

The attacker overextended, his last lunging punch leaving a gap in his defences, and Kain neatly jabbed a fist into Rock's ribs. I shall succeed where you have failed, Geese. These people shall be forced to fend for themselves, and the strong shall be chosen to survive... and such is the true form of the dream.

The crazed young man was sent flying across the lobby, landing on all fours in a ground-hugging crouch – then he sprang forwards, leaving only cracked marble tiles to mark the spot where he had landed. Kain found himself hard-pressed to endure this assault: he was forced to take the entire weight of Rock's pounce on his forearms, and he staggered even as he repulsed his nephew's attack.

It's interesting how everything just falls together, don't you think? I must purge the name of Howard from this town – yes, and even Heinlein too, if the people shall have any hope of standing on their own feet. And in so doing, I gain my revenge. He whirled around as Rock released another wave of energy, neatly avoiding the projectile – and by some caprice of fate, his foot caught against one of the crevices in the cracked floor, and he found himself stumbling momentarily.

It was enough.

Seizing his chance, Rock leapt violently, slamming into Kain's chest with deadly force. The two of them fell to the ground: Rock pinned his uncle to the ground with his left hand, while his right fist was instantly sheathed in the roiling flames of a violent inferno. He aimed directly at Kain's head, ready to kill the man who stared composedly back at his own death...

To appropriate all your creations, and then unmake them in one single moment...

The violet shroud suddenly disappeared, dissipating with a barely-audible hiss. In an instant, Rock found himself wracked by immeasurable pain; the suppression that his power had provided was now gone, and he felt the full agony of his wounds for the first time since the start of the fight. The strength and madness bled from him as he regained his senses – a curse, he realised, as the barrier that separated the pain from his mind was cut away.

The last laugh is mine.

"Time's up," Kain sneered, and slashed Rock across the eyes with a streak of purple light.


Jae Hoon's entry into the fray had turned the tide of the battle against Freeman. Instead of celebrating his bloody victory, the murderer now found himself assailed on two fronts by an enraged father and son, and neither of the two was going to let him get away.

In addition, the two-pronged attack had forced him to block Jae Hoon's flaming kicks instead of dodging them; his defence had not been able to defend adequately against burns, leaving raw red wounds where pale white skin had previously been. He derived much pleasure from the pain that coursed through his body as he revelled in its exquisiteness, letting his twisted tastes overcome the searing agony that inconvenienced him, but not even that allowed him to surmount the disadvantage that he faced. And a new problem surfaced: where he should have danced rings around the slower Kim Kaphwan, the two fighters were circling him. His speed had discernibly slowed, an effect of the burns that his psychology was unable to overcome.

He would not have had it any other way.

Jae Hoon leapt in, his feet ablaze as they struck at Freeman's shins. The pale killer jumped over the attack belatedly, feeling flames scorch his feet as he extended a menacing claw towards his adversary's head, but Kim was there to frustrate his attempt with a somersaulting kick. Freeman found himself knocked into the air, his body contorting unnaturally as he struggled to regain control, but the older Korean followed up with a descending smash that knocked the wind out of his lungs. His impact with the floor dealt with what little remained.

Freeman rolled away from the blow, rising into a crouch as another wave of energy left his hands. Both Kim and Jae Hoon evaded quickly in separate directions, avoiding the wild strike, and proceeded to flank their tormentor. Neither of them wasted any time or breath on taunts as they closed in, their rage-filled eyes focusing solely on the fight.

The hunter, long accustomed to picking the weak and vulnerable from the herd, was in dire straits as his prey turned on him. Father and son were more than he could handle alone; his original plan had been to divide and conquer, but Jae Hoon's return to the fight had put paid to it. Now, he decided, he would settle the matter of the other target first.

A talon stretched out towards Kim, crimson stains gathering at its fingertips. With a desperate stamp, Kim sent up a shower of white that blocked Freeman's line of sight – but it did nothing to block the attack, which sliced through it as though it wasn't there. Viciously, the desperate killer continued his frenzied assault as he cut relentlessly into the curtain without a second thought. In an instant, he passed through the settling screen of snow, his fingers slashing the space behind it into a million pieces...

...but Kim was not there.

"NOW!"

Jae Hoon sprang towards Freeman in a fury, delivering kick after burning kick in the brief opening that his father had provided. Caught off his guard, the killer found himself on the receiving end of a barrage of blows, and he could do nothing but take the hits – the assault was simply too rapid for him to break.

Another kick set his clothes ablaze, the small ember growing into a furious fire with every added blow. The flames seared his flesh as easily as it did the fabric over them, scorching him terribly, his body's agony overwhelming his mind's perverse desires to the point where pain, instead of pleasure, swamped his consciousness. Flooded as he was by consuming torment, the irony of his situation escaped him: his lovers – pain and death – had shown him their true faces, and could not meet their terrible gaze.

The last kick struck home, and his sizzling body fell to the earth, where it lay still.


Jae Hoon's heart pounded madly, its beat hammering away in his skull as he stood on the battlefield, and only one thought filled his mind.

It was over.

He crouched, looking down at the body that lay cooling in the snow, taking in Freeman's unfamiliar features clearly for the first time: the death's head grin lay exposed, unshielded by the long red locks of hair that were draped around it. It was a thin, skeletal face, one more fit for a corpse than a living being; two black, lifeless pools were set in its eye sockets – they could have been empty, for all Jae Hoon could discern from their soulless depths. No breath escaped from the bloodless lips.

So this was the face of Death's lover. Freeman, the murderer whose night slayings had terrorised the town, and whose unconfirmed death had only served to transform him into an urban legend in everyone's eyes... but not in his family's. They had endured too much to question his existence, and seen too much to ever let down their guard. Now, they had their revenge...

No. Not revenge. Justice.

It tasted foul in his mouth nonetheless. Freeman had finally fallen, and the streets would be safer again – but even that would not compensate for all that his victims had suffered. People were dead by his hand, and nothing in the world would change that fact. They would not return...

Embittered, Jae Hoon could not hold back his feelings of frustration. In a temper, he suddenly seized the corpse by its scrawny neck and rose, hoisting his defeated enemy into the air.

"Jae!" Kim shouted, but the youth refused to listen. His hands trembled as he tightened his grip, shaking the body violently as though it was a rag doll in the jaws of a stray dog. He wanted to vent all the anger on the body before him, even though it was meaningless; he wanted to discover Freeman's reasons for doing what he had done, even though there would be no answer.

There was no stopping him from screaming, "Did you delight in causing suffering that much, sicko? Why do this? WHY?"

And to his horror, the empty eyes slowly rotated in their settings, turning down to focus on him.

He looked back in utter terror, not believing what he saw. Impossible! he thought, his heart and mind crushed by the iron grip of fear, his breath catching in his chest as he fought unsuccessfully for control of his faculties. This was the face that so many of Freeman's victims had seen in their last moments – and he knew, staring into the void, that he would join them.

"H... Heh..." The hand snaked out towards him, aiming directly at his heart...

The explosion rang deafeningly in Jae Hoon's ears, his fingers unlocking themselves from around Freeman's neck as the body was suddenly jerked away from his hands. His eyes watering from the acrid stench of cordite that had suddenly pervaded the field, he stumbled back in a shower of gore, losing his footing for a brief moment – and then he felt the strength of many arms supporting him as his fall stopped. The shots continued unabated, resounding through the street... and then they fell silent.

He blinked the tears from his eyes as he looked up, and the first thing he saw was Jun's worried face. "Jae... are you okay?" she asked.

He smiled weakly, ignoring the pain in his side that flared up yet again. "I'll be fine," he began, relieved to see his girlfriend again – and then he recoiled suddenly. "Freeman!"

Jun moved aside silently. Across from him, he could see Kevin Rian standing over the killer's body, his revolver still smoking. Struggling, he pulled away from the hands that supported him – he recognised the uniforms of the Second Southtown Police that they wore, and his parents behind them – and made his way over to the sergeant's side.

"You okay, Jae?"

He nodded dumbly.

"That was a close one." Kevin gripped the revolver tightly in his frostbitten fingers, looking down at Freeman. "He earned every bullet. It's over."

Jae Hoon followed the direction of his gaze, staring blankly. Freeman's head had been savaged by the shots: its upper half had been practically obliterated when the bullets did their deadly work. What was left was a smear of dark blood, mottled by shattered fragments of brain and bone and spread across the starkly-white snow. Of the lower half, nothing was left but the cadaverous grin, which kept leering at him – it was a cruel expression, as devoid of humanity in death as it had been in life.

But that face no longer held any terror for them. Not anymore.


Rock reeled, clutching his eyes as the searing pain bit into him like a jet of acid. Blindly, he rolled away across the rubble-strewn floor, shards of shattered marble tearing through his clothes and scoring deep into his skin. To him, such injuries were nothing compared to the starburst of pain that exploded in his head: it incapacitated him, leaving him writhing on the ground in mortal agony, incapable of doing anything else.

All his senses had been blotted out by the suffering that prevailed over his body and mind. Still, he struggled to his feet in an aimless daze, red-hot stingers piercing into his skin every time he made contact with the ground. His vision refused to clear; the world remained dark even as his ears, flooded by the deafening silence of white noise, began to hear its first sounds from the world around him.

And he thought he heard a voice: "Don't come any closer."

Mother?


"Don't come any closer," the woman cried, pulling the child behind her. "Isn't it enough that the boy shares your blood? Why must you drag him down the same path that you walk?"

Geese's voice revealed no emotion. "He is a Howard, and the Howards were born to fight."

"So were the Heinleins," Marie snarled, igniting a jet of purple energy from the palm of her free hand. The young boy cried out, recognising his mother in the glow of the ki. "And I'll not hand him over to you."

"Give him to me," her husband reiterated, "and I will make him the strongest fighter that this world has ever witnessed. He has the potential – you know it, for he shares your blood as well as mine."

Her eyes shone in grief as she took another step back. "He'll share nothing more from you, Geese, than what you've already forced upon him. I will not have the son end up like his father – a lying, backstabbing, duplicitous hoodlum!"

"Then take him and go," the future King of Crime spat in disgust. "I have no need for weaklings."

"He will not be weak." Marie swore. "But I will not have him tainted by the world that you have gone back to, Geese. This child will have a future, unlike you – you who continue to sink deeper and deeper into the underworld at the expense of everything. You will never be satisfied, but as long as this child turns out a better man than his father... I will be content."

He turned his back on mother and child as the sound of stumbling footsteps receded into the distance, and a brief spark of regret sprang up in his heart.

After some thought, he snuffed it out.


It can't be her. So... who's there?


"You'll not lay another hand on him."

Hotaru spun at Kain, her hands a blur as she struck with blinding speed, but Kain fended off the attacks easily. "You must be that man's daughter," he noted with calm dignity. "Save your strength, girl."

"And let you kill him?" she cried, launching a kick at Kain's jaw, which he avoided with ease. Still moving, he dodged the next of her attacks, letting Hotaru's glowing foot sweep past his body before striking out with a backhanded slap. The girl flipped backwards, dodging the blow as she landed lightly on her feet in a low crouch, and instantly resumed the assault with a swift palm strike to Kain's midsection. "I must decline."

"As you wish," he replied, smiling at her with a face that was almost beatific. "But I do hope you'll consider your own health first: after all, this building is on the verge of self-destruction."

The words stopped her as surely as one of his blows, and she dropped back, too stunned to attack any further. "What... what are you talking about?"

"What, he didn't tell you?" he exclaimed in mock surprise. "Well... I owe Goto a professional favour, so I might as well bring you up to date." Hotaru stiffened at the mention of her father's name, but did not interrupt. "You've seen what happened tonight."

"Yes," she replied faintly, sickened.

Kain smiled cruelly. "Expect more of the same, then. The bomb below this building is not much different from the others – except, of course, that it uses an alternative power source. Enter Rock. As you can see, he's been fighting at full tilt for quite a while already: I'd say he's been completely drained by now."

She started, remembering the immense pillar of energy that had saved her from the blast. If Rock had only used a small part of his power back then... "What have you done to him?" she exclaimed in horror, crouching down at Rock's side.

"Worry about yourself, Miss Futaba. This explosion will probably destroy everything in a ten-block radius, at the very least. If you leave now, you might just stand a chance of survival..." Kain looked down pointedly at his fallen nephew, who writhed on the ground, still locked in throes of agony. There would be no reprieve for this one – the last Howard would have to be eliminated. But he offered the daughter of his former employee – he laughed inwardly, remembering the animosity that had grown between Goto and himself – a chance. All she had to do was to take it and run...

She forced out her reply with difficulty, her voice a barely-audible whisper in the hall. "No."

"I expected as much." He sighed in disappointment, seeming almost resigned to accepting her choice. "You're quite the tenacious one, just like the rest of your family. But if I may be allowed to give one parting piece of advice..." He trailed off, the look on his face reverting to an emotionless mask.

"Go on."

"Don't waste your life on a Howard, girl," Kain continued coldly. "My sister made that mistake once, and it cost her everything. I strongly advise you not to follow in her footsteps."

She didn't reply. He picked up the suitcase, which remained remarkably intact in spite of the heavy fighting that had enveloped the lobby, and walked out into the night.


He knew she was there, though all he saw was darkness and all he heard was the sound of the wailing wind. And he knew that she watched him with fear and disgust, as though he was some abhorrent beast or monster.

She would not have been far from the truth. "Leave."

"What will you do now?" she asked, reaching out for him tremulously. She could see faint traces of energy building up on the tips of his fingers, and the feeling of dread intensified; the worst was yet to come.

He did not see her gesture. "If I can blow the top off the generator, the power will be released upwards instead of outwards. That way, it should reduce the blast radius by a bit." He didn't add that no matter how small the explosion was, it wouldn't change the fact that he would be standing directly over it.

But she knew. And if what Kain had said was true, and Rock was at the limit of his endurance... "You'll kill yourself," she exclaimed, her voice a horrified whisper.

"So be it," Rock hissed through gritted teeth, clutching his wrist as violet tendrils began to snake around his clenched fist. "Leave... now!"

She did not comply. "Why do you have to do this?"

"Isn't it obvious? Because of my indecision, all this happened..."

His despondence infuriated her when all of Kain's words could not: she refused to abide with his decision to perish. "You're being stupid, Rock Howard."

He whirled around in the direction of her voice, facing her for the first time. There was no mark on his face where Kain's slash had landed, but its integrity was deceiving: Rock's eyes stared lifelessly into emptiness, unfocused and blind. She recoiled at the sight, and Rock heard it; a self-loathing, bitter laugh escaped his lips as he heard her expected reaction.

As horrified as she was, the sight did not deter her. "You heard me. If you want to claim responsibility for all this, it's your business – it's not my place to challenge you. But what makes you think that you can atone for all this by killing yourself? There are people waiting for you, Rock – people who care about you, who don't want to see you end up like this. But all you think about is your own reputation; you haven't even given any thought to what they really feel. They have more faith in you than you do in them –"

"That faith was misplaced!" he screamed. "They counted on me to turn Kain in, but I couldn't – and look at what happened!"

She ignored him and continued to rail, her utter desperation lending strength to her accusations: "You're a coward, aren't you? You're afraid to face the consequences of your actions, so you think that by sacrificing yourself 'for the sake of Second Southtown' in a blaze of glory, you'll somehow redeem yourself in everyone else's eyes." She paused, the words catching in her throat as she tried to turn him aside.

There was no reply. "What rubbish!" Hotaru exclaimed, allowing herself to lapse into scorn for a brief moment before outrage took over once more. "Do you think Terry and Mary will be happy to visit your grave? What about everyone from the Illusion? Will they enjoy drinking to your memory? And all those who've helped you thus far – the ones you told me of, the Kims – are you spitting on all they've done for you? You think you're being 'selfless', but all I see is a self-centred fool who's trying to assuage his wounded pride at any cost!"

He flinched at her words, feeling the stern rebuke as keenly as a tight slap to the face. But it served its purpose. Hotaru saw him unclench his fist, his fingers trembling, and let out a tiny sigh of relief as she saw the energy vanish from his hand; for the time being, at least, his suicidal resolve had been weakened.

"Think, Rock Howard." Her faltering voice delivered its ultimatum. "If you give up now... who wins?"

The realisation struck him – to die there would only gratify his uncle's desire. And even if the only reason for his survival was to spite the one who intended to wipe the Howards from memory... he would choose that path simply because it was there. But an underlying current of thought flowed beneath the superficial desire for vengeance. And he found, as he searched it, that his reason for holding back was even clearer.

She was there. As long as she remained, his hands were tied: continuing with his plan would kill her as surely as if he'd struck her down himself. And he could not do it.

But if she stayed... "I don't have a choice. Take a look at me now – I can't even find my way out of this building, let alone escape. But you can," he breathed heavily. "I'll only slow you down. It's better for me to stay here and give you a chance..."

"You're still being selfish, Rock. How low must you sink before you realise that you can't do everything? As it stands, you don't have the power to save yourself – it would be foolish to think otherwise." Her hand lightly touched his cheek, and he drew away involuntarily, shocked by the sudden contact. "But you don't have to go through this alone."

It finally struck him. What she offered... "No! I can't let you..." He flung his hands out, reaching blindly for her in panic.

Her hand left his face to grasp his wildly-flailing arm, and she silenced him gently with calm words. "Listen to me." There was a new firmness in her words that he recognised, one that underlay her resolve to remain. And there was something familiar in her tone – a maternal, comforting sweetness that compelled Rock to cease his struggling. He vaguely remembered its echoes from a time long past, though the speaker and the words were starkly different...

"We're coming out of this alive, Rock – both of us. But I need you to trust me... something that you haven't done up to now, even if the rest of us have counted on you thus far." Her accusing tone had vanished: there was no malice in her words, but only a deep sorrow. Still, it tore deeply into Rock's wounded psyche as he recognised the truth in her statement. "I know it's hard for you to do this. But even if it's only this once and never again..."

He didn't know what to do. To put his life into another's hands, to surrender all control... She was right: it was the hardest thing for him to do. For one who had lived under the shadow of distrust and cruelty, the sudden expectation was almost too much to ask for.

He made his reply.


With a deafening roar, the pillar of light ascended into the sky as it devoured the shadows greedily.

At the relief outpost, the cup of rapidly-cooling coffee fell from Terry's hands. "Wha..." he mumbled, a terrible sense of dread flowing over him. This shouldn't be happening. Over there... Geese – no, Heinlein Tower...

Rock!


The time for safety had long passed. Neither side cared for defence; each killer was out for the other's blood.

"You asked me why I borrowed your name," Gato mocked, swiping at his father. Goto simply took the hit on the thick of his shoulder, getting under his son's guard, and clawed upwards at the exposed chest. It was only a quick backwards dodge that spared Gato from anything more severe than flesh wounds; still, the blood seeping through his clothing testified as to their depth. Gritting his teeth, he roared, "All that was mine, even my life and the memories of the family I knew – you tore it all away from me when you 'killed' me that day, and the only thing that kept me going was hatred. But that same hatred had been set earlier within my heart, from the moment you cast me out of the family... it's taken me this far. Now, everything that you took from me, and everything that you claim – even your name and your life... I'll take it all back!"

"Is that it?" Goto was audacious enough to sound surprised. He struck back with a heavy, swinging fist; Gato caught the impact on his forearm, feeling a distinctive crack as a stab of pain rushed through it. Ignoring it, he hammered down at his father's head – but Goto swept his head aside as the blow missed its target, smashing into his shoulder. The older man leapt away and taunted his son with stinging words, his right arm hanging uselessly from its socket. "You sacrificed your sister for the sake of jealousy? You're even shallower than I thought, Hiroshi. I should have killed you that day –"

There was a rumbling noise in the distance, like the distant roll of thunder, and Goto instinctively flinched as he remembered what it had signified – and where his daughter had gone. For one fleeting instant, his self-control – a trait that he had so successfully maintained over the years of killing – counted for nothing as he turned his head ever so slightly in the direction of Heinlein Tower, seeing the first rays of light.

"Too bad, old man."

From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Gato's one good fist speeding towards him, crackling with golden energy as it blazed into his unprotected side. Then there was the dull, heavy sound of impact, and he felt a sudden, tearing rush of pain as he fell to the ground.

And then the wave crashed down on them.


"Did you hear that?"

"Yeah. It doesn't look good..." Dong Hwan muttered as he watched Itokatsu paw the ground nervously. The ferret's hackles were raised again, making noises that he could have sworn were screams of terror. "I'll go check it out." He stuck his head around the corner.

The spotlight left his fingers, its beam dying as it crashed onto the ground, but the street was still illuminated – the oncoming light had seen to that.

"CRAP!" he yelled, signalling for Jenet to escape as he dashed past her. "Incoming!" The pirate captain wasted no time in picking up the ferret and following suit. Man, woman and animal sprinted down the street and away from the blast, but as hard as they tried, the wall of light only gained on them with every second that they fled. Dong Hwan could not resist looking back, curiosity overcoming his terror for one brief moment. It was almost upon them...

From beyond his field of vision, he heard Jenet scream, "No time for that, dimwit!" She flung herself heavily at him, bringing him to the ground, and the two hapless searchers suddenly found themselves surrounded by an unbearable brightness as it washed over their prone frames.


Goto coughed, sending a spatter of crimson across the white ground. His strength was failing, his eyes clouding with impending darkness even in the light that flooded the zone... That one fateful blow had been the decider; his internal injuries would be fatal, if not immediately so. And even then, his son would have finished him off without hesitation.

But Gato was no longer interested in the fight.

Goto watched as the ethereal shield shimmered around them, forming a protective bubble that blocked out the deadly rays: Gato's fist formed its centre as it glowed with the very same energy that had brought his father down. Secure in the integrity of his defence, the victor scourged his dying father with words of burning hatred.

"So, this is Kain's reward for the faithful," he heard Gato say, voice distorted through clenched teeth. His back remained turned as he gathered his power, strengthening the wall as it warped and writhed in the face of the external pressure that tested it. "What did Kain promise you, old fool, that you would throw your lot in with him – even to this end? His words, like yours, were all empty lies... How ironic."

Kain promised me two underworlds: the dark side of society and the pugilistic realm. Now, he gives me a third one, for that is what Second Southtown has become – and Kain shall reign in this Hell, even if I cannot.

With an almighty effort, Goto dragged himself towards the very edge of the sphere. His clawed fingers scrabbled at Gato's shield as he gathered what dying energy yet remained into them, forcing the lifeless digits into the fabric of the barrier...

...and there was a sound, like the crackling of ice, as spiders of fragility began to form in the golden weave. Gato whirled around, his face a mix of hatred and horror as he realised what his father had done – but it was too late. First one leak appeared in the barrier, and then another one, and then the next... and the wave was upon them, drowning out everything around them in a sea of light and fire.

Welcome to the underworld, Hiroshi.

The road, Goto realised, was a well-lit one.


The light faded away slowly, giving way to darkness once more, and it was only then that Jenet dared to open her eyes. Peering out of the shallow ditch which they had landed in, she noted the fine edge that marked the limits of the blast – the line between life and death for them, in their case – and was thankful that her flying tackle had landed them on safe ground. "Well, that was a close one. You okay?"

Beneath her, she heard Dong Hwan's muffled voice calling, "Yeah, I'm fine. I mean, it's not like I mind having a sexy lady on top of me..."

Red-faced, Jenet scrambled off his prone form in a hurry – making sure to 'accidentally' hit him in the ribs in the process. "Serves you right," she fumed, watching in retribution as he cringed in pain. "We escape by the skin of our teeth, and that's the first thing you can think of?"

"Give me a break, will ya? I just got back from whooping Rock's ass on Saturday, and now this..."

She cocked an eyebrow at him as she dusted herself off. "Really?"

"It's a long story: maybe I'll tell you about it one of these days. Right now, though, I think we've got more immediate matters to deal with..." He pointed at Itokatsu; the ferret was already scurrying out of the ditch, and the two of them were compelled to follow as it scrambled down the street – or what was left of it.

There was nothing left of Heinlein Tower or its surroundings: in its place, there was only a smooth bowl that dipped shallowly into the ground, as though the crater had been neatly scraped out of the streets of Second Southtown. Snow was already beginning to cover the scorched earth again, replacing the heavy snowfall that had melted away in the heat of the explosion. As far as the eye could see, nothing could have survived... No. There's something there, Dong Hwan sensed, rushing ahead.

He was not disappointed.

At the epicentre of the blast lay a shimmering blue cocoon, glowing in the dark like a distant star. Itokatsu led the way, dashing like a brown bullet towards it – and that could only have meant one thing.

Dong Hwan slowed down as he approached it, Jenet catching up with him, and they looked at it in trepidation, knowing and yet still unsure of what they would find. On an impulse, he reached out a finger and prodded the azure marble lightly – and it evaporated with an audible sizzle.

It was Hotaru Futaba's face that appeared, pale and tear-stained, before their eyes. Jenet was shocked to see how wan the girl looked: the very life seemed to have been drained from her face as she gazed blankly to the sky, her breathing shallow. Still, she's breathing – and that's always good, the blonde thought. "She's still with us," she called to her companion – but Dong Hwan wasn't listening.

His eyes were fixed on the limp, lifeless body that lay in Hotaru's lap.

"Rock!" He crouched low, aghast at the sight of his fallen friend. Of the pair, Rock was in decidedly worse shape – the thick smears of blood that stained his mouth and nostrils gave testimony to the strain that he had gone through. There was no sign that he was even alive: his body just lay there, like a tattered rag doll in the arms of its disconsolate owner.

Of course the idiot would have been on the scene, Dong Hwan cursed silently, any pretence at joviality forgotten. I wouldn't have expected anything less from him. Then, barely regaining his composure, he did what would have been expected of him: he reached for one drooping wrist, searching in vain for a last spark of hope.

And as though in a trance, he heard a faint whisper from above his bowed head, sounding in time with the first beats of Rock's weak pulse: "He'll... be... fine..."

Dong Hwan looked up, but Hotaru's eyes were already closing.


Notes:

I took longer than expected to finish this chapter, but now all that's left is for me to tie up the loose ends. Sorry for the delay and the rough edges... I might make amendments later on, but you'll all have to settle for this for the time being.

C&C is greatly appreciated.

Edited 14/06/2005: Well, I touched up a few scenes, but there haven't really been any major changes.

Peachrocks: Hey, no action story is ever complete without a self-destruct device, didn't you know? ;) You might just want to note, however, that Kain's been trying to set Rock up for the explosion ever since the end of the previous chapter (note Kain's own diminishing of power). It's all in the plan... (Also note that I'm passing plot contrivances off as dramatic irony in trying to have the engineer hoisted with his own petard, as they say.)

Everyone else: It's not over yet! Stick around!