Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with Tecmo, Team Ninja, or Dead or Alive…no matter how cool I'd like to think I am.

I am so excited that I decided to update to celebrate the arrival of my new wall scroll! I just got my Ninja Gaiden wall scroll in the mail today and now Hayabusa is on my wall! Ehehe! Keep on reading!

Chapter 5
Good Evening

The skyline of Tokyo was lit up by beautiful search lights and the glamour of the first French opera being performed in Japan. Many reporters and photographers lined the busy street along the entrance to The Great Opera House, the first of its kind designed by the local government to bring more tourism to the outside of Tokyo. However, the surrounding area was still underdeveloped, even with an abandoned building next to the Opera House.

That abandoned building was where Ayane prepared herself for her night's mission. In two hours, she would officially be a part of DOATEC. For once, everything went well for the young kunoichi.

Ayane tightened the strap of her shin guards, the last part of her uniform. She opted for all black tonight, approving of the outfit and its equipment she concealed in it: two blades, one tucked behind each shin guard, rested in their holsters, her tonto strapped to her back, and a myriad of shuriken hidden everywhere from the waist up. The thick rubber protected every vulnerable parts of her body while comfortable cloth still allowed flexibility for fighting. Although Ayane wore this uniform, and others in a dark purple color, for many other intense operations, her upkeep showed Ayane's pride in her work and clan.

"Unlike other kunoichi I know," she thought bitterly, thinking of her half-sister, who never went on assignments at all and therefore opted for a more scantily-clad uniform in her milk-pink or blue color.

The bright sweep of spotlights ran through the windows of the abandoned building. Ayane knelt down by the briefcase Leon supplied to her. Inside, there was the picture of her target, Helena Douglas. Under it, an unmarked white envelope rested on what Ayane really wanted: her brand new sniper rifle with silencer and eyepiece. Running her small hand over the black metal, Ayane smiled with pleasure. She was truly a deadly assassin with some nifty new toys.

Ayane opened the envelope. It contained a map of the Opera House and a single ticket for the event. She looked down at the crowd of people dressed in tuxedos and evening gowns entering the front doors, and then at her own attire.

"Fuck tickets," she said, walking back to her equipment, shutting the briefcase and shouldering it, as well as a small black backpack. She ripped the ticket, dropping it to the ground, tied a black bandana under her bangs, and slipped her forearms into metal claws. "I'm a ninja," she said, walking onto the ledge outside the nearest window.

Ayane drove the claws into the side of the brick building and pulled herself upward with great ease and speed. She leapt over the side of the rooftop in a neat crouch. Turning around, she sprinted towards the edge of the roof, and with both feet, propelled herself off of the same ledge she scaled earlier. Ayane flatted her body to glide through the air and flipped herself onto the roof of the Opera House without a sound. Her brown eyes scanned the vast surface and continued on her path. There were no guards.

The stealthy ninja walked to the nearest rooftop exit door. The handle was chained and pad locked. Ayane looked around further and made her way to a large glass window beyond the door. Peering in, she saw it dropped down about ten feet to a carpeted floor. Ayane pulled out the map and noted that at the end of the hall was the stage crew entrance to the rafters across the stage. It was exactly where Ayane wanted to be.

Ayane took out a blade from her leg. She drew the largest circle she could and carved diagonals through it into the glass pane before returning the blade to its holster. Then, Ayane positioned herself onto the glass frame. With all of her strength, she stomped on the glass, knocking it to the floor with a loud crash. Lowering herself slowly, Ayane followed suit, landing on the now glass-covered carpet.

"Hold it right there!" yelled a guard, pointing a gun at the intruder.

Slowly, menacingly, Ayane raised her head so her eyes met the man who dared to challenge her. She saw his fear and the guard take a step back. "Shoot me," she said, rising to her feet.

The guard paused for a moment and then fired. Ayane crossed her arms in front of her, letting her metal claws deflect the bullet. It grazed the guard on the shoulder before the man fainted to the ground. It was exactly what Ayane wanted.

The assassin walked calmly to the guard and took his security card. "Thank you, Mr. Sakai, for being my escort tonight," said Ayane cheerily as she swiped it through a black box for access to the door at the other end of the hall.

The rafters of the Opera House were dark and hot, and although made out of wood, did not creak with the weight of the ninja. She stopped at the very center of the rafters which gave Ayane the perfect view of the entire stage. She was even above the highest-level VIP boxes, so the chances of her being seen remained slim. Ayane opened her backpack and put her metal claws inside it. The bullet she deflected didn't even scratch the hard metal. Ayane then opened her briefcase and set up the base of the gun. She attached the silencer and put on the scope. The green screen inside immediately turned on, and when Ayane pressed her eye to it, she read a little message.

"Hello," flashed the words on the rifle for a brief moment and disappeared to show its view of the stage.

"Good evening," Ayane replied. Then, upon placing a cartridge of bullets into the gun, the assassin smiled.

Helena sat on her fluffy couch in her dressing room. She stared at herself in the mirror, noting the dark circles under her eyes. The stunt Donovan pulled earlier in that afternoon scared the hell out of her, not allowing the pre-show nap Helena always took. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the pale-faced girl staring at her and heard the loud gun shots from Donovan's gun. She poured herself a drink at her mini-bar and sat dejectedly at her bureau.

"I wish that you would stop drinking, my love," a soft voice said behind her.

Helena turned around, very startled, only to look at the kind eyes of her mother. Laney Douglas, already dressed in her white ball gown, smiled at her young daughter. She had the same corn-yellow hair as Helena, except it was made into a lovely French-twist. Helena admired her mother above everyone else because of her strength. No matter how little Fame Douglas saw his only child, his wife always spent her time with Helena, even during the longest of world tours.

"It calms me, mother," Helena replied softly. She smiled as Mrs. Douglas stood behind her and put a brush to Helena's hair. The girl smiled.

"I know, but it will harm your voice if it gets out of hand," her mother said. "You have the most beautiful hair, Helena. I am so happy you grew into such a wonderful woman."

Helena opened her eyes when she heard the sad tone in her mother's voice. She looked up at her mother in the mirror. "Will father be attending our performance, mother? His associates and Dr. Donovan will be there."

Mrs. Douglas stopped brushing Helena's hair and put the brush back on the dresser. "No he won't, my dear," she said quietly. "Although I always hope he will."

She looked at the floor at the moment, but quickly smiled at Helena. "You better get dressed soon and warm up! It's almost show time!"

With that, Mrs. Douglas disappeared back into her room.

Suddenly angry with her father once again, Helena went into the bathroom to change into her white gown. This performance, and every performance after, would now be for her mother. And Helena was determined to rule the operatic world.

Ayane waited patiently for the show to start. She was ready to get her mission over and back to Leon to learn more about DOATEC. Then the lights dimmed and the audience grew quiet.

The assassin peered over the wooden edge. Two spotlights focused on two tall women at both ends of the golden stage. One sang out a line and the other sang a reply. Ayane didn't understand any word, but the crowd rose to their feet at the end of the short piece. The lights turned on again and the two women began to sing again.

Ayane looked through her rifle's scope. It was exactly who she wanted. There, a vision in white, stood Helena Douglas singing in an incredibly high-pitched range.

"The woman next to her must be her mother," Ayane said to herself, steadying her gun. She flattened herself to the rafter on her belly and steadied the rifle against her shoulder. It was Helena Douglas's swan song.

Helena felt her voice had never sang this beautiful before. She hit the hardest high notes and sang every phrase through. She could see her mother smiling at her during her solos and felt happier than before. Then it came up: Helena's highest note in the performance. She took in a deep breath to support her voice and belted it out. Helena looked at her mom as she sang the note when the blood hit her face.

Mrs. Douglas buckled over when another shot hit her again. Her lifeless body hit the stage with the loudest thud Helena ever heard. She lost all control of her body and couldn't react to anything. All Helena could focus on was the body in front of her that was once her mother. The entire audience flew into a frenzied panic. People ducked between the seats, others ran screaming out of the performance hall. Stage directors ran out to get Helena, but she wouldn't budge. Helena was frozen as the sight of her mother being shot ran through her head over and over again.

Undoubtedly, the person most surprised was Ayane. She raised her head from the scope in disbelief. There was no way she was that bad of a shot. Hearing shouts from men outside, Ayane just grabbed her backpack and sprinted to the door she came through. However, it opened before Ayane could reach it. Two men barreled through and yelled at her to freeze.

"Like hell!" Ayane shouted back. She ran forward at them, throwing two shuriken on either side of the men. Once distracted, she leapt through the air and wrapped her leg around the first guard's neck. Using the momentum of her body, she threw him forward and tumbling into the second guard. Ayane got to her feet and continued to run. Another guard came running at her, this one holding a stun gun. She continued her sprint, meeting the guard at the center of the hallway. The guard reached out to hit Ayane, but she jumped onto his shoulders, propelling herself high enough to grab the ceiling window she smashed in earlier. She pulled herself up with ease and ran to the edge of the roof.

Ayane was about to jump to the roof of the abandoned building, but a gun shot chipped the pavement in front of her. She turned to see a dozen of security guards pointing guns at her.

"Put your hands above your head," one guard said sternly.

Ayane smiled back at him. She had no fear. She raised her arms up at her sides and then back-flipped over the edge of the building. All of the guards rushed forward, peering over the edge. Their target had landed safely on the back of a black motorcycle waiting in the alley. Ayane revved the engine, put on her black helmet, and raced away into the night.

The Great Opera House was evacuated by police and the staff. Ambulances lined the streets where limos once pulled up, and Helena Douglas sat inside of one. Still dressed in her white gown, Helena wrapped herself in a gray blanket and sipped water. She looked down and saw her dress splattered with her mother's blood. Taking her eyes away from her dress, Helena looked up to see two paramedics push a stretcher with a white sheet over its transportee out of the front doors. Helena knew it was her mother, and the tears came swiftly.

Nearby, an officer questioned a shirtless young man with a bandage on his shoulder. "Can you give me a description of your attacker?" he said, holding up a notepad and pen.

The young man nodded. "She was about five foot, three inches. She wore all black; it looked like leather, with a black bandana on her forehead. She had a pale face and brown eyes."

Helena froze when she heard it. Her heart pounded as she leaned forward to hear the details. "You know the weirdest thing," said the man. "She had short purple hair."

Helena breathed hard to get oxygen through her body. She felt like throwing up. It had to be the same girl she saw at the Wok today. How could this one girl cause so much terror in one day? Helena got to her feet and looked around. There was no one she could talk to.

"Miss Douglas, please stay in the ambulance!" yelled a voice, but Helena didn't care. She had to find her father.

On the way back to her dressing room in the Opera House, Victor Donovan approached Helena. He held a bouquet of roses. "Oh Helena," he said softly. "I am so sorry."

"Fuck off Donovan," she spat. Helena tried to get past him, but Donovan's strong hands clasped her shoulders.

"I know you're very upset right now and you're gone through a great ordeal, but you can't just wonder off making rash decisions," he said sternly.

Helena looked up into his eyes with all the hatred that burned within her. How would he know about ordeals? Donovan is too busy with his science and her father's business to know what loss and life is. Even that huge rhino of a man could understand that, but not the heartless Donovan.

Leon!

The opera singer's mind transported her back to the afternoon at The Wok. Before she saw the same girl's face, she was in the same area as Leon. He had to know something. "Where is Leon?" Helena asked suddenly.

"Leon?" said Donovan, taken back suddenly. This bitch knows something.

"Yes, that muscle head you hang out with. Where is he?"

"I don't know, he didn't come tonight," Donovan said slowly. "He's not the opera type."

"How can I reach him?" Helena pressed on. She was going to talk to this guy if it was the last thing she did.

"Whoa, wait a minute. What business do you have with my employee? He is a man with his own priorities; Leon doesn't like to be bothered."

Helena pushed Donovan on the chest and stepped closer to stare at him in the eye. She was absolutely determined now. "I think he has something to do with my mother's murder."

Donovan didn't know how to react. Helena had guessed part of the truth. Fortunately, even though she still hated him, she suspected Leon. "There is someone," he began."

"What do you mean someone?"

"Leon has been asking me for weeks to hire someone new to the company," he continued. Donovan checked to see if Helena was buying it. "She's a local girl, but I never met her. I couldn't tell you what she looks like."

Helena hungrily ate up Donovan's explanation. She waved her hand in the air dismissively. "But did he mention a name?"

Donovan looked at her for a moment to add to her suspension. "Ayane. That's all I know. Leon says she's a ninja from the forest, but who would believe that?"

Helena nodded and noted the name. She ran up the steps, allowed to pass the many officers guarding the entrance to the Opera House. Helena made her way through the halls to her dressing room and quickly changed out of her blood-stained dress. She packed her things and stopped at the bureau where she and her mother spent one last peaceful moment together. Helena ran her fingers along the brush Mrs. Douglas used on her hair.

"I'm very sorry for your loss, Miss," said a voice.

Helena spun around quickly in a fighting stance. She saw a tall woman with snow white spiky hair leaning against the door frame to her mother's dressing room. She was dressed in black pants and a business jacket, her icy blue eyes staring at her without emotion. "Your mother said you were a fighter, too," she added.

"Who are you?" Helena asked coldly. She didn't need any more surprises for the day.

The woman stood tall and reached her hand out. "My name is Christie. I was Mrs. Douglas's assistant."

Helena didn't bother to shake hands. "I didn't know my mother had an assistant. She never told me about a Christie."

Christie let down her hand, and Helena could swear she saw a flicker of anger in her eyes. She cleared her throat. "I was assigned to her about three weeks ago, Miss. Your father hired me to be with your mother in case she needed any help while she traveled. Your mother, on the other hand, barely needed me, and asked that I did not talk to her daughter at all, when you were around."

Helena stared back at the mysterious woman. Something about her story didn't sit well with her. "Why would my mother want that?"

"I suppose she wanted to handle her life on her own. She was a very capable woman," Christie replied. There was a silence in the room. "I saw you two perform many times in France. You're a wonderful singer."

Helena looked down at the floor. "Yes, well, I always try to take after my mom."

"I see," Christie said softly. "Well, Miss Douglas, I've taken the liberty of

collecting all of your mother's things and packed them back in her suitcase. I was going to take it with me on a flight back to Germany to where your father is, but maybe you'd prefer taking it instead?"

"My father is in Germany?" Helena asked, startled. "Why is he there?"

"That is where DOATEC is located. I presume you already know that," Christie replied slowly.

Helena felt stupid; she didn't even know where her father's company was. She thought it was in France, by her parents' mansion. But she still had to way of contacting him. Helena didn't even know where DOATEC was, let alone the phone number there.

"Actually, Christie," she said aloud. "Why don't you take it with you? I don't think I have any use for my mother's things at the moment."

Christie bowed her head and turned to leave through the other room. She turned and threw a small business card at Helena, who barely ducked in time. "If you need to reach me," she said plainly before exiting.

Helena picked up the white card. Perhaps Christie knew something about her mother that she didn't know. Maybe she would help her find the Ayane girl who viciously murdered the most important person in Helena's life. Helena walked to her make-up box and flipped open the top. Rummaging through compartment and after compartment, she stopped at the very bottom of the container. She lifted a shiny silver locket in front of her eyes. It was a gift from Helena's mother she received before her first performance. Inside, it was a picture of both Douglas women on each side. Tears started to well in Helena's eyes, but she furiously blinked them away. There was no time to be emotional as Helena decided the path she must take.

"I will get my revenge," she said aloud, knowing only her mother in heaven could hear.