Authors Note: Sorry for the really long delay i had this chapter down a few months ago but i didn't like the wayit had turned out so i took time to play around with it. Then I put it off because i had a lot of school work to do. So thanks for waiting and i hope you enjoy! Oh and if you find any errors or think of something that needs to be done better so i can improve my writing i wouldn't mind hearing it. D Thanks p.s i don't own the characters from inuyasha!

also thanks for the reviews...

Sapphire Hiwatari- you changed your name right? w/e i like it D

Wawa Soccorro- yes you do want to know right? lol

PLEASE READ AND REVIEW thanks D

-Soundless-echo

Chapter Two: Angry Calls and Elevators

It took him a few moments before he realized that his office phone was ringing. The obnoxious tone jingled out of the phone and swam around the room. He didn't feel like working that night so he listened and waited. A sigh flowed out of the room's sole occupant's mouth as an answering machine picked up the call. A voice filled with bored indifference seeped out of the machine, his voice…

"Whether you've reached my number by accident or purpose it matters not. Please leave a message after the beep and I will get back to you if I find it necessary to initiate a conversation between us. Thank you."

-Beep!-

"Damn it Monk! Where the hell did you put that disk? I thought we had a deal?" The angry voice of a man poured out into the sleek upscale office. The statements rang within the large room; slashing the silence that had until moments ago settled into the room.

-Creak-

A chair swiveled around so the occupant of a black leather chair was facing the phone. The man in the chair moves slowly and places both feet on top of his desk. He leans back. Taking his time; he has a lot to kill (for now). The angry ranting from the phone hasn't ceased and he's enjoying the displeasure on the other side of the line…immensely enjoying it. A deceivingly caring smile forms upon his lips.

Shows that bastard not to mess with him…

He'd made it perfectly clear that, NO ONE messed with him.

After all he was the 'Monk'; a nickname that had been given to him in his high school days. Some how it had stuck to him like a lost puppy wanting a home, who was he to deny a dog a home? He couldn't exactly remember how he'd gotten that name but who cared as long as the people who employed his services understood that a man with his reputation didn't tolerate disrespect or fools. He did his jobs well for his clients for the thrill and an added bonus of getting paid to get that thrill.

His business…? Oh it'd been flourishing ever since his first job in New York. What exactly did it entail? Well to put it simply he was a thief-for-hire. He didn't talk about his jobs but rumors had a sometimes pleasant way of spreading of their own accord.

Who exactly was he? Well, if an ordinary person was asked if they knew The Monk; they would probably scoff and tell you he knew a monk but who the hell called themselves the 'Monk'? A person who knew the black market and related things, well they'd know exactly what someone was talking about.

Most of the time he'd spread his doings by 'accidentally' slipping and revealing himself to people after his jobs. There wasn't any publicity better than being mysterious and giving clients a sense of exclusiveness.

However he should have known something like this would happen to him eventually.

With his clients there were the old rich and the new rich. The new rich idiots thought they knew everything and could get anything now that they had made a few measly million dollars. He should have followed his first client's advice and stuck to the people that would give him the utmost respect for what he did. His prices stopped him from getting calls from some of the more unsavory of people. However he did do charity jobs if the person or their reasoning intrigued him enough (that didn't happen often).

The man yelling was a former client who was new to the workings of the real world in a rich person's eyes. This client had hired him to steal a disc from some industrial science laboratory. Or at least that's what he had thought it was. When he had gotten at the building none of his building plans were correct so he had had to go old school. Which had worked pretty well but he had a feeling he'd grabbed the wrong disc anyway.

'Maybe I should watch the disc…now that I've decided to keep it'

But that wasn't why he wasn't giving the disc to the client. The Client was some jackass named Rick who had tried to stiff him…completely of his pay. He didn't like that; didn't like that at all.

Back at Club Joy…

Sango walked through the worn metal doors of club Joy and had her preconceptions of it blown away. The place pulsated with noise and people who swarmed like eager bees on a hive all across the dance floor. The music was loud and was a beat that encouraged movement.

'Maybe there's another entrance?'

The club had three floors; the first a dance floor with every type of costume imaginable present on at least one body. The second level which was reached by metal staircases on either side of the dance floor was primarily the bar and a place to mingle. Small and large round tables using every inch of space the club could be allowed to use (without it becoming a safety issue) were scattered around the bar.

The third level was a mystery to her. It was a mystery that needed to be solved if she wanted to receive a lead or some quality information. An elevator appeared to be the only way up but there was probably a secret staircase or something that would also allow someone to go up.

She surveyed the guarded passage. Both guards had stoic expressions; they looked around the room from behind black sunglasses. Deciding that she might as well get a seat to watch the elevator from she wanders until a table catches her eye.

It was just being cleaned up and boasted two comfy bar chairs. She could easily watch her prey from that position.

The club's noise wasn't as overwhelming as it had been on the first floor. In fact it almost seemed possible to carry out a conversation with someone at a normal speaking level; key word, almost.

She found herself wishing she had found someone to come with her but pushed the thought to the back of her mind. She reached into her handbag and checked the small slip of paper again. Scrawled almost to the point of unreadable were the words "Club Joy third floor". She had to be in the right place but now what? Did she wait and watch the elevator until she could put a face with the elevator? Or did she try to convince the guards that she had an appointment with their boss?

While her mind wondered over possibilities her eyes remained glued to the elevator and the guards. Waiting for some clue as to how she could reach the next floor. This is probably why she didn't notice the eyes that had tracked her every movement since her entrance into the club…