The early morning wind… it can be a savior, she thought, taking in the bloom of fresh, cool air as she relaxed in her deckchair. The balcony was set up in a homely sort of way: a woolen rug covered the cold, stone floor; a ceiling lamp hung above her, waiting for the night to come.

Renee had given her the keys to the place. Gogo scoffed at the memory of her storming into the older lady's house, her leg bloodshot and splintered, her face covered in tears of pain. She wailed like a sailor's newborn – Renee gave her some Valium and brought in a doctor to look at her. The fever lasted over a week…

What had happened to Vivienne? Was Satsuro dead or was he still out there, hiding?

Gogo lit a match and flipped a cigarette into her mouth, just like she watched Belmondo do it once. Now there was time to think over some stuff…

-

"Eight-fifty." The dealer muttered.

Romeo silently gave him a ten-dollar bill and walked away.

New York City…

His white garment shone even against the hospital's white-pasted walls. Romeo hit the button and awaited the elevator.

When he reached the 11th floor he was swiftly pushed back inside.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

Zhang shut the elevator door and pressed 'Stop'.

"I told you to keep away from her", he sounded agitated, "Did I or didn't I tell you?"

Romeo shrugged. "I bought her some flowers."

"Very nice." Zhang took the bouquet from Romeo's hands. "Get the fuck out."

"How is she?"

Zhang shook his head in anger. He opened the door.

"Zhang," Romeo shouted as the latter walked away, "Zhang!"

Romeo slammed his shoe against the wall. He then stepped back in and the door slid shut.

-

The ground was cold from the rain - wet and dark. The beats thumped, coming from the inside, and the ground shook, smitten by the rhythm. 'Kordillo' – the hippest underground club and hang-around of everyone whose name you'd find on the top of the list of the 'Copacabana'.

Tom and Lewis stood outside, rubbing one leg against the other and holding on to their .45s, hidden in their pants - bodyguards straight out of a textbook. Yeah, they were blockheads, but they did their job well and for many consecutive years.

Retsuja dropped his stub to the floor and stepped down with his boot. His sword hung down his leg, embedded by a jet-black sheath. No more gray suits, he was switching to dark. A cashmere shawl graced his neck. Satsuro didn't bother with a fancy entrance – he just walked straight for the door.

Tom and Lewis merely smirked. They didn't even bother reaching for their guns.

"Looka here, sonny," Lewis growled, "The joint's off-limit for stray puppies like yourself. You'd be more welcome in the Kit-Kat club."

"That's two blocks that way," Tom joined in, "A nice place. They even like boys running around in kerchiefs."

Satsuro smiled. "I see you've each got a homeboy sitting in your shorts. Can I see it?"

Tom smirked. "Sure you can." He unzipped his pants and slid his hand into his undergarment.

"Where d'ya want it?" He laughed.

"I'll decide later."

Satsuro's blade slashed Tom's wrist and went right through his shorts, cutting everything in its way. Retsuja then twisted the Katana with his wrist and pointed its not-too-appetizing, awfully bloody tip at Lewis' gulping throat.

"What about yours?"

Lewis dropped his .45 to the ground, trying to keep his pants clean.

"Lead the way. Anybody freaks and you're the first to die, got it?"

Satsuro picked up the gun, shoved his blade back into his sheath and followed Lewis into the club. The rattle of a mean guitar, crossed with a hard, thumping bass was the first thing to greet them.

And then they entered.

The joint was jumping. Sweat. Smoke. Noise.

The dance floor was jammed with 24-hour party people.

A spiral staircase, set up in the middle, led to the owners.

Satsuro followed Lewis up the stairs - calm, indifferent, willing to keep it quiet.

The crimson red stagelights were blinding, drenching all color but the darkest of reds.

The two proceeded down a small bridge.

Underneath, the mosh pits looked so dense, you couldn't have squeezed a match between the ravers.

Lewis lifted his arm, about to knock on the manager door.

Satsuro pounded him in the kidneys, knocking him out.

"I'll take it from here."

Without losing a beat, Retsuja smashed the door with his foot.

A moment's hesitation cost one of the guards a head.

Satsuro wielded his gun towards a second guard.

The guard moved for his belt. Lousy timing. Bullets riddled his face.

"You do make a lot of noise, don't you?"

A man sat behind an oak-wood desk, scribbling something onto a piece of paper.

Satsuro pointed his gun at the man's head.

"Close the door, will ya, son?" The man muttered, annoyed.

"Fuck you for saying that."

Satsuro pressed the barrel against Hakata's forehead.

Hakata finally looked up.

"You came here to kill me? Fine! Kill me." He resumed his writing.

Outside the office, it seemed nobody even had the faintest idea about the shoot-out.

"If it ain't gonna be you, it's gonna be someone else. If not today, then tomorrow."

Satsuro calmly shut the door behind himself.

Hakata smiled, relaxing back in his chair. "Much better."

Satsuro still had him at gunpoint.

"Are you gonna –"

He lowered it, but kept the weapon in his hand. Tightly.

"Sit down."

"I'll stand."

"Whatever." Hakata took out a cigar. He smirked.

"Remember these?"

"Yeah."

"I bet you do." Hakata reached for his lighter.

Boom! Satsuro shot it from the desk. Hakata jerked back in his seat.

"Carry on like that, Hakata, and I really will shoot you."

Hakata smirked again.

"Fine. Point taken." He put his feet on the desk.

"I came here –"

"I know why you came here," Hakata cut him off, bluntly, "And I'd like to get right down to it. I need protection. Romeo split on my ass, followed some broad out to NY City. Fucking loser. So now my personal guard is gone. I need a new one. Your pay will be enough to buy out this club and a thousand more who look just like it. I take care of my people. Since we both had this… misunderstanding in the past, I'm giving you fifteen grand out front. Just like that."

Satsuro didn't even nod.

Hakata cleared his throat. "I see you've changed a bit, huh?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I did… kill your parents, remember?"

"They weren't my parents."

"Right."

A pause occurred.

"So we're square now, huh?"

Satsuro smiled.

"I'm not gonna kill you. For now."

Hakata smiled back.

"I'm glad."

-

A/N: Vivienne's fate is yet unclear... until next chapter, that is ;)

P.S.: I'm thinking of posting a part of the story as a screenplay. If anyone's got suggestions, no matter what kind, just post them with your review.

Sincerely, E-E ;)