A/N: Well, I am beginning to get into this story, and I've been getting some possitive reviews, so here you go. The next chapter. Some answers will be answered, and some questions will be raised ; D - So, without further adeu, Chapter 4 of Kokoro.

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"Information..." Caleb said aloud, mostly to himself. Ryan sat himself down before the man's desk, and leaned back into his chair. "So I suppose the idea is revenge?"

Ryan only nodded. Caleb said nothing. He interlaced his fingers as he examined the boy's eyes. He sighed, and tunred his chair away from Ryan to stare out of the window. Overlooking the city, the ocean was vast, hues of endigo and blue.

"Go home, Ryan." he said. The sentence brought back a sense of Deja Vu. It was only yesterday that he had told the boy to 'go home', and he had ended up being held at gun-point. Not to mention previously asualted with a sword.

Ryan leaned foreward, as if waiting for anything else to be added. "Go home? That's your explanation to thist? Go home?"

"I didn't say anything about explaining anything." He told the boy, still facing away. "You know I'm here, Caleb."

"Yes, I do. You're here because you're just an angry kid, who wants to go blame someone." He replied, finally looking Ryan in the face when he spun around. "You don't know anything, and you're better off if you don't."

"I'm not leaving until I get a name."

Caleb leaned forward, and pressed the intercom. "Will you please come and escort Mr. Atwood out of the premescis?"

The two very large guards intered the office, and crossed their arms. Ryan stood and left without struggle. However, before he completely left the room, Caleb stood from him desk and called him.

Ryan turned and faced him, waiting for whatever it was that he had called him for. "You wanted a name? Try Norman Gallow."

Ryan slightly nodded, and turned to take his leave while the two goones closed the door behind him. He made his way to the elevator, after recieving plenty of looks from that damn desk bitch, and pressed the first floor button.

Normal Gallow. That name seemed to ring a bell in the back of his mind, but aparently not enough to set off the alarm. The doors opened, and there stood Michelle, in all of her security glory, beaming.

"Hello Angel." she said. He hunched in agravation and looked back up to her. "Hey Michelle."

"I think I know why you looked so tired yesterday."

"Why?"

"Because I wore you out in my daydream. I mean, leapard speedo, whip cream, hand cuffs, monkey, we were having a ball."

"I don't even want to hear about it...wait - did you say a monkey? Never mind." he said, leaving her. She pinched his left cheek, and he cringed. "Don't hate the playah, hate the game..." she called before he was out of the building.

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Rain? In New Port? Unbelievable. How could a sudden 'storm' just show up like this? Not on tonight of all nights...A White Squall. The pier was soaked and it wasn't pleasnet at all. It sort of put a damper on things in his oppinion.

"Mr. Barrel? The cargo's ready for delivery." a man said, breaking him from his thoughts. Mr. Barrel waved his hand, and sent the useless apendage off.

A casket. What the hell was the boss' big obsession with caskets? It made no sense what so ever to order seven caskets if they were all the exact same ratio. The exact measurements, color, finish, wood, satin interior, etc.

Well, it wasn't his job to question, just to please, which wasn't too hard when you never see the man you work for.

"Well, well, well."

Mr. Barrel turned to face a tall, scragley man, late of age. Though most of it had faded to an ashed grey, some of his golden hair stranded out in the pouring rain. He limped forward, his cane making a loud slam as he made his way.

"Regan." he replied. The taller man, bowed in mock courtesy, and looked forward upon the 'cargo'.

"More bodies to get rid of?" Regan asked. Barrel shrugged, and shook his head. "I don't ask questions. But if that's the case, he's an awfully considerate killer, to bury 'em instead of toss 'em in the ocean, eh?"

"He he he...I suppose so." he grunted. He stood there in the cold rain, trench coat soaked, and looked down, as he did with most people, because Regan had always been tall.

The workers, insolent back talking youth, began to carry the black boxes into the large moving truck behind Regan. Neither Barrel nor Regan had moved, both standing on the pier, by the boat, while the 'cargo' was being unloaded.

Finally, the seventh, and final casket, seemed to cause commotion. Apparently, one of the workers ahd let go of the corner, and all of its contents fell out, slewed upon the planks.

"I-I didn't mean to!" he pleaded, after seeing what the real 'cargo' was.

Now all over the wood before them, in the rain, where exactley ten 35 Magnoms. There was eleven, but one of them fell into the water. Needless to say, these were very expensive items. The messenger was usually killed for such "accidents", and Regan couldn't afford that.

He withdrew his pistol, shot the young man without question, and put the gun back into its holster at his waist.

"Still the killer eh?" Barrel said, staring at the boy slowly losing his life. Regan simply popped his neck, and turned away. "And no one still knows your first name, so that answers your question on how little we've changed. Get the fuck over it and run the damn operation already."

With this said, all was replaced, cleaned, and even the item lost in sea was retrieved, at the threat of the men's lives of course.

"So, uh, did He say anything about me?" Barrel asked his old friend, as he was about to take his leave. Regan looked up into the florescent light above the two, and turned.

"As a matter of fact, He did. I almost forgot, and I'm glad you reminded me." he told the shorter man. There was a flash of lightning, almost perfectly silhouetted with the guns fire. Mr. Barrel looked down to his stomach, and slowly fell backwards into the black water.

In his vision, the water rushed over him, and he felt as though paralyzed. As he sunk, he watched the stream of the crimson smoke-like structure flow. His mind was at a blank, except for the thought of the searing pain in his abdomen. He then found out that, even though your lungs don't exactly agree with drowning, it was painless.

The water filled his lungs, and he didn't fight it. He finally reached the bottom, and felt light headed. Dying, it seemed, wasn't as instant as movies portray it, though he knew this already.

"So we weren't blood related, we were still brothers. And, so, I suppose you just can't escape sibling rivalry. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, and all that bullshit..." Regan finished, and walked away from the edge.

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"Son, you're gonna have to speak up if you want me to find somebody." the old man said. Ryan didn't bother to remember his name, he didn't care. As long as he could fine what he wanted to know.

"Norman Gallow." he said a little louder, trying to keep his voice calm. He had been here a half an hour, and he was just getting served - that was bullshit of the highest degree. Why was it that all of Summer's "connections" were pains in the ass?

Actually, how did Summer have so many connections. Did she really get around that much.

In the background of the cheap little gun parlor, a song was playing. A spanish song, aparently it was a Mexican folk song called Malaguena Salerosa. Ryan knew he had heard it before, but couldn't quite place it.

The table they were sitting at obviously had not been cleaned in some time. There were dark, grungy, sticky stains, and Ryan didn't care to get any of it on his clothing.

"Ah. And here we are." the guy said. "Norman Gallow...works at the bank uptown...teller." he told him. Ryan looked up to him. "That's it?" he asked. The old man sighed.

"Well yeah. Were you expecting some secret agent crap?" he asked.

"I...I guess so."

"Lemme tell you something. Secret Agents? They don't exist. It's a cover for missing people taken by the Aliens."

Ryan only stared at this poor, pittiful creature, and stood. He gave his adue, and turned to leave.

Ryan hopped into the car, which he remembered as a gift from Sandy and Kirsten. Apparently this was to show the two how "supportive" they were about their relationship. It also came with that convenient little book with Kirsten's hundreds upon hundred's of dating rules and restrictions.

Traffic wasn't too bad, and the weather had cleared up a bit since last night as well. It was almost as if things were back to normal. He almost expected to hear his cell ring, and hear Seth on the other end. But the thought of knowing he would never hear Seth's voice again kept his mind on focus of what he was doing.

The bank, however, was crowded as hell. There was no getting around it. He really didn't feel like dealing with people right now. In fact, in a way, he was starting to resent people.

"Can I help you sir?" he said. This guy was no older than 20, at most. This was the guy with whom he was supposed to get information out of?

He was 5'7, giving him credit, he was a straight red head, he wore glasses with very prominant black frames, which made his green eyes a little bigger than what was comfortable to see. He was the last thing Ryan expected to see.

"Are you the only Norman Gallow here?" he asked. The young man nodded slowly, and looked at Ryan in a way that was unreadable.

Ryan leaned forward, and whispered "Caleb sent me."

Norman stood straight upward, and stared back at Ryan. "I'm sorry, but I don't know a Caleb. I know a Cole, if that's who you meant..."

Ryan stared at the short guy, not knowing what else to say. He obviously didn't know anything more than Ryan. "But here. Take a flyer - we're handing them out like crazy today."

He handed ryan a folded piece of paper, and leaned to the side. "Next?"

Ryan walked outside, and couldn't believe it. He was the only Norman Gallow in the system. This meant only one possibility: Caleb had sent him on a wild chase for nothing.

He unfolded the flyer for the hell of it, and read "Saturday - Get 20 off of your next loan, or if you own an account..." the rest went on like this, droning on nothing important. But at the bottom, in handwritten pen, was this: Meet me around back in 5 mins.

Maybe this wasn't wasted after all...

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"God...Who do I have to FUCK to get a fat-free Mocha Latte around here!"

Summer was NOT having the best morning. Ryan showed up, but only to get something out of her. He didn't even bring her anything. Not a goddamned thing!

Hospitol food sucked ass, and no one seemed to reply to the nurse-calling-thingamajig-button.

"Well, you could fuck me." she heard. In walked a tall man, black hair, blue eyes, and she wouldn't have minded doing as the previous had replied, really. "But, uh, it looks like you're currently unable to fulfill any thing remotely related to sex." he laughed.

"Sorry...I'm Summer." she said, coming out of her daze. He nodded, and sat flowers in her lap.

"For me?"

"Why not?" he said as he sat down in the chair by her bed.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but why are you here?" she asked. He looked up to here, and she melted under those blue eyes. You didn't see guys like this in New Port very often. She couldn't explain why, but she was almost hypnotized by those eyes.

"I'm a reporter - for the New Port Times? I wanted to ask you a few questions about the incident..."

"Well, I can't remember anything. Sorry I can't help you out any further." she told him. God, Ryan owed her so much right now. It was his fault for everything that she was going through at the moment.

"Well then. If you do remember anything, give me a call. It doesn't matter what time either, I don't really have a life." he laughed as he gave her his business card. She took it from him and read Matt Mortgenson.

"Oh? No 'special someone' to go home to?" she asked, of course playing it cool. Summer didn't really care, she was too cool to care. Cool? that didn't even sound right in her head at the moment.

"Nah, I just...well, I dunno why, I'm just single." he said. He stood, and turned to leave. She "happened" to glance down and noticed what a firm and glorious ass he had - it must have been the corner stone of her morning. He must have worked out.

"Maybe I'll drop by some other time." he said. And as he left, she sighed only one thing; "Damn...I need to get laid..."

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"This is it." Norman, or 'Norm', as instructed to call him, said. He had lead Ryan through the back door, and into the basement Vaults, where all of the most valuable things were kept. Aparently, Caleb had his own walk in vault here.

"I can't go in with you - Bank policy." he said. He opened the large, steele door, and stepped aside for Ryan. Ryan slowly stepped into the white vault, and looked before him. There was a white table, and on the table, for small tin boxes.

The door was shut behind him, and Ryan sat down. None of the boxes had locks, but he supposed you didn't need a lock when they were as protected as this.

The first, he slid toward him, was filled with cash. Though because they were small, there weren't many bundles. However, at second glance, it appeared that they were very larg bills. each, a hundred thousand, and about seven thick bundles per container.

And, as it turned, each container was filled with money. This was an unbelievable amount of moolah, as it seemed.

In the corner, a large black containr stood, about 3 feet long. Upon sitting this one on the table, he opened to an unexpected surprised.

It was as if an assassin's travel bag. A sniper rifle, a glock, a 9mm pistol, enough bullets to get one hell of a party started, throwing knives, the works.

"Caleb, what the hell have you been planning?" he said. The last box, was an old wooden case, that was displayed on the wall. This was the only container in the entire room to have a lock on its side.

Ryan planned on using every last bit of resource in this room. He figured whatever was in the box was important, and Caleb must have had the key.

Ryan turned and went to push the door open, but found that it must lock automatically upon shutting. He knocked on the cold metal.

"Hey Norm, I'm done." he called out. There was no reply.

"Norm! Let me out!" he called once more. And to this, he did get a reply, but not one that he expected to here.

"I'm sorry," he heard. "But an order's an order...You can't be aloud to leave here alive..."

That cheeky little fuck! There was no other way out of the room but the vault door.

"CALEB!" Ryan yelled out, and kicked the door. It was here, that he had put two and two together, and remembered that the room was air-sealed.

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A/N: Okay, now things are getting into flow. Now, in the begining, I did say that this was a collague of my favorite movies, so in the next chapter, don't be too surprised to read some things...see you soon w/the next chptr, and pleez R/R