Disclaimer: Honestly, you get the drill.
A/N: Rewrite of the original Death's Angel end of chapter three and most, if not all, of chapter four. Please review.
Chapter 3: You'd Think That He Was A Little Excessive
Komamaru went down, hard. He slammed into the muddy roof top and slid several feet before slamming into the low wall. The thugs approached him, the rain pouring down. The leader of the group pointed his gun into Komamaru's face, and he distinctly detected the smell of gunpowder residue, and could make out the words Desert Eagle stamped into the side. It was funny how the rush of adrenaline made these silly little details spring out in his mind. He could see rain water dripping off the end of the guns barrel, and heard the click and snap of the hammer as it slammed into the bullet, firing the gun into his face, once, twice and finally a third time. By the time the third bullet hit home, Komamaru's world had gone black and red. The thug continued to pour bullets into the seemingly dead demon until his clip was empty, and then the thugs made their way to Kikyo. There were saying something, but the words "accomplice" and "traitor" were the only ones he could hear. They were aiming their guns at the girl, the hammers clicking back when Komamaru came to his feet. He didn't bother pulling his guns; he simply used his bare hands, slamming into the nearest two men.
He threw the first man into the remaining group of four men. The other one he simply lobbed off the edge of the roof. He screamed the entire way down the side of the building.
Komamaru's fury ignited, burning away the fog of pain he had been in. Adrenaline and other chemicals surged through his body, regenerating flesh and muscle, knitting bone and recreating sinew and nerve. The bullets fell from his body, splashing a little as they hit the water pooling on the roof. Komamaru looked at the five men struggling to their feet. His shirt was in tatters, along with most of his coat, and he had so liked his coat.
He stood between the five men and Kikyo, waiting for them to come. Then the first man opened up with his machine gun, he was on the far left, and sprayed bullets at Komamaru, who leapt. He flipped through the air, and before the man could turn and fire again, Komamaru snapped out with his boot, snapping the man's spine. The guard flopped like a fish out of water, gasping to breathe as he lay face down in the rain water. It was the second man's turn to come at him, swinging a police baton that crackled with electricity. Komamaru smashed the man's face in, but before the man could fall to the ground, Komamaru snatched him by his wrist. Swinging him around so that the guard's shoulder snapped, Komamaru then grasped the unconscious man's neck and jaw and gave a vicious twist, snapping the man's neck. Two more men charged at him, giving war cries as they went, and he back flipped through the air as they brought their electrocuted batons down. He grabbed each man by the wrist holding the baton and jammed their weapons down each others throats. They twitched and spasmed, their insides smoking until they finally collapsed. Komamaru could detect the faint smell of cooked meat in the rain filled air now. That left one man standing.
The final guard, the leader of them, fired at Komamaru with his Desert Eagle. Komamaru dodged the bullets and went into a roll. It was dark on the rooftop by now, and the guard lost track of the demon assassin. Komamaru slipped silently through the dark, slowly circling his prey. His sense of sight not dimmed by the darkness or rain. What little noise he made was muffled by the rain and the guard was twisting around and around, his gun pointed outward, trying to find his enemy.
Komamaru's blades slid forth from his body, his shoulder and elbow blades shredding the remainder of his shirt and coat. He waltzed through the darkness and then struck. He flew from the shadows striking his opponents arm, slashing his bicep. It was a mere flesh wound, but the psychological damage to his target was huge. He had realized he was being toyed with, that he was prey. That he was helpless.
Komamaru stuck again, hamstringing his opponent this time. Blood splashed into the water on the rooftop and swirled in a complex pattern. The guard was down on one knee, barely able to hold his gun up, soaked in a mixture of blood and rain water. The third blow landed, slashing the barrel of the Eagle to pieces. His prey was now completely helpless, it looked around the building rooftop nervously and finally, his eyes stopped on the roof exit. The guard began edging towards the door, inch my inch, slowly, ever so slowly. He was only a few feet from the door now, if he made a dash for it, he could make it and escape! He turned, charging at full speed toward the exit. But before he could make it, Komamaru materialized out of the dark. His blades flashed in the moonlight, and he decapitated the last guard. The man's head went bouncing and rolling across the rooftop, finally popping up, and dropping over the low edge. Komamaru took a deep breath; it was time to leave.
Komamaru walked to the shed that he had thrown Kikyo behind. He looked at her ankle; it was broken, and she whimpered with pain a little when he touched it, but didn't cry out or weep. She was just as strong as he remembered. Carefully pulling her onto his back he made his way to the edge of the building, looking down. The building his equipment was on lay a good 25 feet from them, and several stories lower. While it had been a good position for sniping Inuyasha, it would be difficult to land on the roof from this distance, and he couldn't afford to role through a window with Kikyo on his back. He would have to chance jumping, and catch the building wall with his claws and then scale to the roof.
Cracking his neck he stood several feet back "Keep your arms around me tight, Kikyo." he told the girl on his back. She started to say something, but before she could finish it he was running, he leapt off the building, flying through the air, and he felt Kikyo gripping him tightly. She was screaming into his back with fear as they contacted the side of the other building, his claws digging into the brick and mortar walls, and he began to pull them up, hand over hand, to the top.
They reached the roof of the building and he quickly grabbed his equipment, and then descended the east wall, to his motorcycle, which was parked in an alley. He could feel Kikyo's face pressed tightly against his back in fear, he knew she hated heights and falls, but he didn't really have a choice right now.
They finally made it down, and he loaded his gear into his bike. It was a Honda Shadow 790, with a 426 horsepower, 250 cm engine, with a max speed of 343 mph and could go from 0-90 in under 7 seconds. He loved his bike; it was the other gift Sesshomaru had given him that he kept.
Checking the shotgun that was slung in a holster in the slot in front of his right knee, he turned the bike on, revving the engine to life. He pulled out, the engine running smoothly and silently. Sango and Shippo often called his bike Kilala, after Sango's pet two tailed cat demon, mostly because it was as silent and as fast as the little two tail. He felt his bike purring as he maneuvered through the streets of the city, he never liked it when they called his bike that, but he understood why they did it at least. His bike would always be nameless in his opinion. Just like he was.
A/N: And voila, new chapter done.