Thankyou very much to both Element6 and Ice Phoenix, it's a pleasure to have you both back and reading. I hope you enjoy the changes I've made, your reviews mean a lot to me! You can still check out her webpage at Lightning Strikes Twice

Part 3

Meet the Fat Society

"Naw, naw, naw!" Claude cried throwing his arms into the air. He smacked his palm to his forehead and to Akira the feeling was mutual. "Zee Nuitrigrain goes on zee top shelf!"

"I can't reach the top shelf!" Akira complained loudly. If she wasn't so exhausted she would have been yelling, and possibly hurling fruit, but all she could manage was a dull whine. No matter how she tried she just didn't feel like meeting anyone half way today. She awoke late, rushed to at least be presentable to the public and ended up looking like an upside down mop. Her laces were still impossibly knotted and so she had spend 20 of the time inspecting the grimy linoleum.

"Zen use zee ladder!"

With a defeated sigh she threw her arms into the air and stalked past Claude all the dignity she could muster into the back room. Yawning, she slung herself over a rung on the ladder and closed her eyes. The temptation to curl up beneath the dirty laundry was so powerful she could barely stop herself, but Claude and Aristos had done her a big favour and she would pay it back in full if it killed her, maybe even in good humour if she could stop her head from ringing. Going without a night's sleep and no food for since breakfast the previous day, dying seemed a very real possibility. Akira slipped the ladder over her shoulder and carried it carefully up the aisle.

"Watch it!" snapped a woman as she browsed a shelf.

"Don't chuck a hissy fit," she growled under her breath. She had the appearance and demeanour of a high school maths teacher. As she tottered past trying to keep her balance, she had a good mind to….

"AKIRAH!" She hurried on and sat it against the ledge while the Frog tsked, tsked her for tardiness. She usually got on well with the two shop owners but today he seemed out to get her, picking over the tiniest mistakes without any concern for her baggy eyelids. Grumbling under her breath, she scaled the ladder to its top rung and started the monotonous task of sorting the stupid boxes, oldest at the front. Soon she settled into a pattern. Up, stuff the boxes in, down, get more, back up.

Up, down, up, down, Akira was getting sleepy and complacent and careless. Her mind drifted away into a zen like stupor. One thought that entertained her quite a bit was the possibility of karma. If it did she would much rather it was instant, rather than waiting for whatever the next life had in store. She decided that a much more believable theory in life was the Rubberband Theory, where for every positive thing you did to better mankind, the little rubber band stretched a bit more until one day it all snapped back on you and left you frantically calling Shit Creek Paddle Company.

Her good deed risking life and limb for a stranger must have cinched.

She placed the box in its place and started down again.

"Oh if I ever get out of herw I'll-"

Akira screamed! Her foot slipped through the rungs and fell backwards! Her ankle caught along the side and dashed her into the Milo tins and Fruitloops, dazing her. Before she could even breathe a sigh of relief that she wouldn't crash headfirst into the linoleum floor, the ladder swivelled on one leg, teetering an instant before topping. With her head pounding, she couldn't even begin to think, only wait.

"I ave you Kira!" Claude, always nimble on his feet came from nowhere and snatched the ladder with one hand and cradling her head with the other.

As soon as he had the ladder steady against the shelf, he unhooked her ankle and lay her on the ground. "Akira, you OK? Come on Kira!" he whispered anxiously.

"What all dis racket!" called Aristos from the counter. His footsteps quickened until he was almost running. When he slid to a stop on the slippery floor, he saw Akira leaning against the shelf with Milo tins littering the ground. Claude knelt beside her with his hand on her shoulder and a concerned expression.

"What happened?" he cried, joining Claude at her side.

"I'm OK," Akira said for the fifth time. She was no longer seeing double at least. "I was coming down the ladder, my foot slipped, Claude caught me. I've got a headache but I'll be fine."

"Naw, Naw. You dead on your feet, finish up this afternoon," Aristos insisted, clearly exchanging an I told you so look with Claude. Claude, pulling her to her feet looked repentant, but glared back anyway. Akira could only wonder what made such clearly opposite people go into business together.

"But-"

"Naw! You go now!" With a shove that threatened to bruise, he ushered her through the door with a tired wave. As she walked away backwards, returning the wave gratefully she suddenly realised that they must have been up half the night too. Claude had a wife and two young children while Aristos only had a daughter her own age, . She resolved to be back in two hours with an attitude like a ray of sunshine.

But what would she do till then? A catnap would hit the spot but the idea of returning to the warehouse in daylight was strangely disconcerting, like finding a vampire in its coffin.

There you go again, demon my ass. It's a shoddy demon if it can't beat a skinny little girl, she rebuked amiably, swinging her legs lazily as she unconsciously chose the path towards one of Brisbane's most popular parks, Southbank.

School kids were often there on fieldtrips, clamouring around the lolly store or being addressed by teachers in front of the Imax theatre or Brisbane Museum. Market's sprawled the winding footpaths, all inevitably leading to the shore of the Brisbane River. During school holidays the fountains and pools were crammed with children splashing about.

She could hear the boisterous shouts of university students goofing off below in one of the fountains.

The bright sunlight, the flowering fig trees, the laughter was all in blessed contrast to last night's grappling.

Jin….. she cringed. What kind of nutcase named their kid Jin? As she worked by the firelight, she had found the bullet near the surface and cleaned it up. The small capillaries already began to knit themselves back together much to her wonder. But the strangest was as she was binding the wound. Straining to roll him onto his side she found dozens of glossy black quill feathers, lying in his cloak and three or four sticking out of his shoulder blades, actually imbedded in his skin. They had come out easily though they had bled quite a bit. Those feathers were now tucked away in her loft and planned to study them later. One thing for sure, they weren't pigeon feathers.

Speaking of pigeons, plump ones scurried by a fountain just opposite the chattering markets looking like walking marshmallows. Whatever else her father had trained out of her in an effort to appear more Australian, strange appetites wasn't one of them. Sometimes she found herself watching a fat ally cat sitting on top of a trashcan and wondering what it tasted like.

The thought of marshmallows only reminded her of the dull ache in the pit of her empty stomach. She was working today for free, spent the last of her money on amateur surgery and had a second mouth to feed. It irked her that she actually felt like she had a responsibility to look after Jin, she liked to think of herself as a street hardened fighter who only looked out for herself, even if it was the furthest thing from the truth.

Without much thought, she leaned over the fountain and made a cursory check of her appearance, smoothing out her clothes and using scoops of water to pat down her perpetually knotty, greasy hair. With her wasted figure, her mop head hair and purple ringed eyes, she looked the poster child for why you shouldn't do drugs. Quickly combing her fingers through her hair she redone her ponytail and smiled at her reflection. It was close enough to presentable.

She then wandered around the circumference of the fountain choosing a spot close enough to the market stalls to be just heard by the crowds but far enough away not to be smothered. The cool bubbling of the fountain eased her tense muscles and the salty scent of the Brisbane River cleared her lungs after the dank and mould of the backstreets.

The Citycats, ferries of the rich, cruised along the river in a league of their own. Their rolling waves rocked the dinghies up and down in steady motions, barely disturbing the fisherman with their rods held loosely and their hats tipped low over their faces, hiding them from the midday sun. Yacht and windsurfers dipped and swayed in the wind, the surfers more so. Akira smiled softly as one board overturned and its rider came up spluttering, a broad grin on his face.

It was then she felt a touch of envy. Even if she had stayed with her parents in Sydney she would have been no better off. She lived in a unit in one of the more infamous suburbs, sharing her room with her four younger sisters, a devastating blow to a girl growing into her independence. The announcement of another bundle of joy to the family was the last straw and she ran away. She left her family a note, telling them she was seeking her fortune and wouldn't be back until she made it big. In what she had no idea and still didn't. She wrote a postcard when she could, lying about the small room she rented from a nice old lady and the well paying job. She didn't want her picture to turn up on the front page of a newspaper listed as missing, presumed dead.

Aware that her lunchbreakwas passing away, she scoured the ground until she found half of a ludicrous clay pot. She knew the design and that it had come from Marla's stall from the markets behind her, a pleasant woman from Zimbabwe.

She rinsed the pot in the fountain thoroughly and then put it in front of her so that those around her could clearly see she was busking. She only stooped to busking when she was in a deep pit, it was humiliating depending on the generosity of others doing their good deed for the day so they could feel all warm and fuzzy.

Her cynical mood pushed away any lingering goodwill towards mankind. She flushed with anger as a man gave her a cold stare, looked into the pot as if seeing if their was anything worth stealing, then flicked his gaze at her with a cool look of contempt, before walking away with his nose in the air.

Akira clenched her fists so tight that her knuckles paled. She glared after him with naked hatred in her eyes. How dare he sneer at me! She raged silently. She had done nothing but exist and he had still looked at her like something he had stepped in. She resisted the urge the temptation of hurling the pot at his receding head.

"Don't worry about him dear." The soft throbbing voice made her start. Looking down, she saw it had come from a sweet old lady. Though frail and hunchbacked, she could see the woman was accustomed to an easy retirement. Suddenly she startled Akira by dropping a five-dollar note inside.

"But I haven't done anything yet," she murmured incredulous, simultaneously feeling a blow to her pride and the need to grab the note before the woman could regret putting laying it down.

The woman winked and patted her arm assuring, her frosting fairyfloss hair bobbing up and down. "That's OK dear, you wouldn't be here if you didn't know what you were doing."

The lady hobbled back, giving Akira some space to perform but she only stood uncertainly, her eyes narrowing on the money. It would give her at least an ample feed, but then there was Jin, and dinner, and breakfast after that. She felt a desperate urge to earn that five dollars. She was by no means some great popstar waiting to be discovered, her voice cracked on high notes and was too soft on low notes, but she usually earned her money by the exotic lyrics that no one understood.

"Um, this is, in English, Waiting for You," Akira swallowed and remembered the soft lilting melody of a song that had been popular about the time she had left the village. As like any child, she knew every word note and beat vividly. She could almost hear the soft beat of the drum and the chitterling of the cymbals in background. A flute whistled the strains, gradually building, waiting for the vocalist to ease her voice in beside its own.

Remembering Priss's pulsing voice, the original artist, she strove to remember the words. The Thai people loved sing. Every household whether they could afford it or not owned a Karaoke machine and would burst into song without warning.

As her voice trailed off, she returned to reality and a scattering of applause. Six or seven people watched her with admiration. Her mouth curled at the corners and blushing a little. Despite doing this a few times before, she could never get used to being the centre of attention and even she was not immune to flattery. With new confidence, she launched into a cheerful little pop song

As she sang, she was more aware of those watching, especially the old woman. She seemed to be enjoying herself immensely, tapping her foot and nodding her head, sending her misty hair awry. After that song, followed by a song about carrots giving you rosy red cheeksafter a fifth and sixth song, children's songs but the crowd didn't need to know, she decided she had had enough and bowed, thanking the audience.

The tinkling of spare change was like music to her ears and once the crowd had dispersed, she snatched the coins from the clay pot and stuffed the gold and silver coins in pocket, but marvelled at the five notes that had been dropped in. One was even a twenty!

She stared wryly at takings, glad the deed was over but still feeling a little slimy. "It'll last until tomorrow, she sighed. She had work tomorrow at a grocery mart tomorrow and would be payed the day after on the Friday. What would Jin like to eat? "Macca's here we come."

"Wrong! Maccas, here we come!" Rough hands yanked the notes from her hands and shoved her into the fountain, with a harsh bray of laughter. The coins split from her shallow pockets and scattered to the floor of the cascade.

She broke the surface, coughing and wheezing. She spat out the water from her lungs and clawing for the edge. This fountain was unusually deep, almost as deep as she was tall. She pulled herself onto her elbows and snarled in a voice barely human for her lost coins. The water gushed gently from the funnel, matting her already matted hair and dripping into her stormy eyes. Still coughing she glared up at her offenders, the Fat Society.

Their leader, Needle, hawed loudly, snorting like a pig. His shoulders stretched and though the majority of his bulk was indeed muscle, he was still soft around the belly which jiggled and wobbled, disgusting to watch. Oily brown hair clung to his scalp twisted with scraps of metal. Squinty eyes she had never seen in a Caucasian were much a target of her ridicule. His eyebrows were studded with numerous piercing so much that there was little hair to speak of and his nose, squashed with nostrils too small so that when he breathed it came out in a high pitched whistle had a bullring through the septa.

The bloated 19 year old smirked at her, the other members backing him up, equally decked with jewellery and leather.

Akira, seeing she had no chance of beating the four of them, dropped her elbows and ducked beneath the surface. Watching her coins glitter as the sun beat down on them, she breast stroked as fast as she could to the other side. She pushed through the surface, sucking air into her lungs with relief.

She swung her leg over the edge, stood firm as Robbo the Hand; a shorter stubbier version of Needle dubbed so because of his talents with a knife, especially when it came to broad targets such as the back rumbled around from one side, and Bum, named for obvious reasons, bumbled around the other. Her blazing anger melted away at the comical scene. Needle actually thought he could catch her!

When she had shoes she was like a brumby through a race, but he wouldn't dare try something in the open.

"Come on Needle!" she sneered, making a few dancing feints as she waited for either of other boys reach her. The fountain stretched someway and now she was out of earshot of the markets. She faltered but kept her cocky grin, despite the fear mixing with her hunger. "I thought you more intelligent then- uhhh!"

A foot drove into the small of her back, digging in with pointy heels. She landed easily and rolled aside, a boot coming down where her sternum had been moments earlier with a loud thud. Ducky, the forth and last member, tall and skinny as a rail, had left his stance wide.

Akira felt cruel. She lashed out, her knuckles twisting into his hamstring. He yelped, lifting his foot slightly.

"Kiah!" Her elbow whirled knocking his legs further apart. Ducky's freckled face split into one of horror as he saw what was coming next. Akira's own twisted, her wicked grin revealing yellowy teeth with the guile of a tiger shark. She rolled backwards, her foot snapping up in a blur of motion and kicked the ball of her foot into his groin with all her strength.

The colour whooshed out of Ducky's face and his feet crumpled from under him.

"Shit!" Akira cried as his nobbled knees drove into her ribs and his whole body weight collapsed onto her tiny frame. Despite being as skinny as he was, Ducky was heavy enough to pin her down. As she struggled frantically to free herself from his limp body, his thin fingers wrapped around her wrist and squeezed, digging in his nails to relieve his own pain. She fought, blood trickling from her wrist but the throbbing was faint when she heard the clapping of leather boot heels closing in.

She felt a cold stab of fear as Bum's stubby build blocked the sunlight. She wasn't going to survive this beating with much of her body intact. That only made her panic. She knew she shouldn't but she was going to be ripped to shreds and more them likely eaten as an appetizer with the Fat Societies next Big Mac.

Note to self, she lamented, trying to lean over his shoulder and give Ducky's own hand a nasty bite. Never take a cheap shot when you can't afford to pay it back later.

This referred to when they had chased her up a tree and tossed bean pods at them while taunting.

Ducky groaned as he was hauled to his feet and then dumped on the grass with a hoarse cry of indigence. She tried to roll and get out from under him but a heavy foot crashed onto her clavical. Her heart jumped, her ribs cracked and her air escaped in a raspy croak. Gasping, she tried to recover but her thoughts were in a twisting haze. She squinted up but the bulk of Needle eclipsed the sun.

"Told you, you were going to pay!"

"What kind of lame comeback is that?"

Why oh why couldn't her mouth consult her brain before it opened!

The foot pressed down harder and made it even more painful to breathe as he cocked back his ankle and pressed his heal below the sternum. The Fat Society jeered even louder at her groans of protest. She dug her nails viciously into the meat above Bum's ankle, tearing at the flesh. Bum cringed but it seemed he feared Needle's wrath more then any tendon damage she could do. For a split second she respected his face in the show of extreme pain.

Akira cursed, sucking in another strangled gulp. Her brief sprint for freedom had taken over a hill and out of plain sight. The city's bustle and childish screams rising up from the swimming fountains would drown out her own.

"Come on, get the bitch out of sight, then we can take our time!" Bum and Hand grabbed each arm and twisted them back on each other. Any struggle on her part would only result in a broken wrist, as she had quickly learned. Trying to calm her agitated thoughts, she walked between the two with Needle in front of her and Ducky hobbling behind her, whining under his breath.

The pressure was relieved from her wrist but was thrust through the sharp pine nettles into a small grove of trees, hidden from the eyes of the world. Silky oaks, pines and weeping figs formed a canopy above her head.

Again, she was shoved into the dirt and before she could even think, Needle stomped down on her wrist with such stunning force that as the loud crunch reached her ears she barely squeaked. The pain took her breath away. Akira choked on the air in her lungs, trying to force out some feeble sign of recognition. As her thoughts swooned, the dull ache of the boots pounding her ribs was barely acknowledged compared to the throb, throb, throb of her hand.

A large kick rolled her onto her side and came face to face with a used syringe.

Great, Akira mused, her thoughts drifting. If I don't die now from internal bleeding, I will later from someone's heroin addiction.

Ducky's thin, drawn mug loomed in front of her face, grinning like a Halloween Jack-O-Lantern. His face twisted hideously and then he stomped on her hand with a cry of exultation. This time Akira screamed bloody murder. Her stomach heaved and the blood rushed from her head leaving her woozy. Nothing was left of her senses in the wake of the attack except for the all-consuming agony.

As she struggled for breath, anger and the need for revenge overwhelmed the pain. As she opened her eyes she became conscious of the sound of screams, and the fact that they weren't her own. Needle's gurgled yells of fear and torture were suddenly cut off by an oomph and a whimper muted by pride.

"Get out of here or I'll make you wish you had never been born."

"Fuck you!"

Something solid impacted on flesh followed by the sound of receding feet followed by raucous insults and threats. The Fat Society were gone leaving her with this new menace. Better the devil you know then the devil you don't. Squeezing her eyes shut against the pain of moving her crippled wrist, she wormed backwards sobbing quietly. She was hurt, scared and alone, a bad combination if ever there was one.

"They're gone," the stranger said offering his hand. It hung there motionless while she watched it, unbelieving.

"Jin?" she whispered.

In response her scooped her under the arms, handling her gingerly. Leaning against him, she cradled her wrist to her chest. He could feel her shivering as they crested the hill and wandered down the path towards the sounds of people and sat her gently on a bench. When he saw the young girl was comfortable, he spotted a vender and wandered over. He looked over the menu and thinking of her hungry eyes yesterday, he asked the portly vendor for a burger with everything.

"Do you know her," he asked him as he handed over the strange Australian currency he had taken from the thugs, much more than what Akira had lost to them.

"Yep, she comes round every now and again, ya know. Does a bit of busking, gets a coupla bucks and nicks it. She sometimes gets food off me, ya know."

"I know," Jin answered dryly, his brow creasing faintly as he tried to follow what the vendor said through his heavy accent and slang. "Did you see what happened just before?"

"The boys?" He fidgeted with embarrassment under his stern gaze, heavily cloaked despite the warmth of the day. "Yeah, they get her quite a bit. I, I can't do anything or they hassle me. I can't afford it, ya know? And here's your change."

"Thankyou." The vendor's shoulders sagged as he turned away, pocketing the change. Looking around and shielding his eyes against the sun he drew his shredded cloak closer to avoid any passerbyers glimpsing the bloody bandage and avoid any unnecessary attention. Luckily Asian tourists were a dime a dozen wandering around the suburb. He had ignored Akira's instructions and to his dismay had gotten lost.

While his homeland had the comforting press of the people around you, the Brisbane streets sprawled and its people distant from each other. In Tokyo, he had never felt alone; here he felt worlds away from all he knew.

You could imagine his relief when he saw Akira coming out of a little corner store. Before racing after her and begging for directions, to where he didn't know, he recalled her prescription of not moving too much and immediately scratched that thought. Its not that he was afraid of the little girl, it was just that she knew more than he would have liked. Heihatchi had a vast fortune at his finger tips and could afford to follow even the most tenuous of leads.

She had also looked ready to leap down someone's throat, shred his or her oesophagus and then eat it.

His genetic code had healed the wound while he slept so had woke up a little sore but bone the worse for wear.

After watching her perform, not the greatest singer he'd ever hear that was for sure, he'd watched the youths attack her just to see how she would react. She obviously had potential with her speedy moves and quick attacks but had been outweighed incredibly and dragged into the trees. Still hoping to see her escape, he only intervened when he had heard the scream.

He reached the bench, Akira had stopped shaking but rocked back and forth nursing her wrist. He offered the burger and her eyes bulged in their sockets at the meal before her, and then glared at him angrily.

"How exactly am I meant to eat it?" she growled looking pointedly at both hands. At that precise moment, her stomach gurgled loudly and Jin couldn't contain his laughter, not born out of any mirth but the need to expel the poisons the Devil had left behind. It burst out of him in soft chuckles. Akira's eyes hard gazed drilled into him and he stopped, trying to keep a straight face. She laid her hurt arm gently in her lap and then snatched the burger with a swift flick of her wrist, he barely noticed.

I have to find out how she does that, he thought, making a mental note as she stuffed a large mouthful in. He fought to keep from screwing up his nose in revulsion as she tried to cram more in with a churlish sucking sound. Catching his eye, with a regretful swallow, she slowed her eating pace. Shifting her weight to make herself more comfortable, she jostled her arm. Jin saw her try to keep back a gasp but she only choked on the hunk of half chewed beef she was clearly showing to the world. Afraid to pound her back, he let her recover on her own. When she did, she only gave a faint smile and went back to her food.

Jin stared at her amazed. "You really should see a doctor about that."

"Food first…Doctor later.," she muttered between gulps. Giving up on having a decent conversation with her, he waited till she was finished, signalled by a loud burp and the licking of the sauce off her fingers.

"Cheers to the chef," she said happily with a wave in the vendor's direction. Jin's expression of amazement deepened as Akira lay back with her eyes closed and her breaths falling into a slow, rhythmic pattern.

"You're sleeping?"

"As much as I'd like to, no. I'm thinking, whether I want to or not. I'm tryin' to figure out how some one the night before was on the brink of death and is now not only walking around but just kick the arses of the toughest, well biggest, gang this side of the wharf."

Akira's eye flew open and locked onto his with distrust, refusing to break eye contact. He swallowed hard trying to think of something, anything to stop this tiny little 16-year-old from staring at him like that.

"You have a fantastic voice," he intervened smoothly, efficiently foiling her next question. What's a little insincerity to keep a little publicity from reaching his grandfather. Her suspicion was replaced by her smug smile.

"Thanks! I don't remember most the songs but- HANG ON! YOU WERE WATCHING ME PERFORM!" she accused, jabbing a vicious finger at his chest. She winced as her other arm jostled.

"Um, yes?"

"That means you saw the Fat Society push me into the fountain!"

"Uh yes?'

"That means you saw them take me into the trees!"

"Ur yes?

"WRONG ANSWER, PRETTY BOY!" She slid closer to him on the bench, her eyes blazing in anger. He slid backwards brushing the stray locks of hair back nervously. Again, he wasn't afraid but it wouldn't look good to an officer if he tried any moves on a crippled, little homeless girl.

"THAT MEANS YOU WERE WATCHING ME GET BEATEN INTO A BLOODY PULP!"

"Yes! No!"

"DO YOU LIKE TO SEE PEOPLE SUFFER!"

"No!" All the time she kept descending on him like a tiger on its prey. His heart was rising in his chest. She's just a kid! His logic screamed. Don't be afraid!

"DID YOU LIKE SEEING ME SUFFER!"

"No!" Be afraid, be very afraid.

"Because if you like suffering, I WILL GIVE YOU SUFFERING!" Hissing and spitting she gave him a final shove and he fell of the edge of the seat with a surprised yelp, onto his back. She hovered over him, her hair in total disarray, blood smeared over her cloths and her face twisted into a hideous snarl, her ire a tangible thing like an aura about her. At that moment, it was her that looked the devil and not him.

"And I will make you suffer!"