Oh my...long chapter...It's taken me a while...well, I'll let y'all get to the story. Don't forget to tell me what y'all thought!

A lull had settled over Halgrove for the past several days, bringing things back to a tense equilibrium, though there was an underlying sentiment of excitement and anticipation that ran through the city, infecting almost everyone. The parade was tomorrow.

Eris stared out the clear front window of the restaurant, at the people on the street. He was lost in thought, something rare. His blackened salmon sat on his plate, half eaten and mostly forgotten, for the moment.

As Morgan approached from behind, Eris shifted back into rigid alertness, though he gave no outward sign of it. Eris preferred to dine alone, though he was not stupid enough to go without an entourage. They ate separately, in various corners of the well decorated room. The rest of the restaurant patrons passed by obliviously, unaware of the snake in the grass.

"Sir," Morgan said. "The autopsy reports are in."

After the bodies had been recovered from the alley, charred and blackened—resembling, somewhat ironically, Eris' lunch—they had been sent to a forensics lab into which the Syndicate funneled money. It was a lucrative endeavor for the lab to keep low-key any work the Syndicate demanded of them.

Eris was interested in only one report, and as Morgan handed him the thick file, Eris immediately flipped through it, until he found what he had been looking for.

All but two of the men had died of various gunshot wounds. One had been beheaded, in a strange fashion that left the man's head crushed like a bloody, deflated beach ball, across the street from the body, like it had been punted. The last one had apparently died of an explosion.

These explanations themselves were not cause for alarm, but there was something suspicious in the back of Eris' mind, and he innately trusted his gut instincts. He cared nothing for the men, though there was something in his memory that made him cautious of his next move. He also doubted that Audry—Ashley—Avery!—was capable of kicking off a head.

The obvious explanation? She hadn't been alone that night. Since there were no survivors, Eris did not have first-hand accounts, and whoever it may have been left no trace of his presence that had yet been found.

Shit.

The autopsy reports were terse but expertly executed. While the cause of death was simply "beheading" in the case of the first strange death, the second one was much more curious.

There was no residue that would mark the man's death as caused by an explosion of anything physically tangible known to the forensics team. It wasn't fire, wasn't a a bomb—no residue on the charred flesh left any clues like that, nor did the manner of the wounds match—in fact, the notes remarked that it was like he had been given an awfully bad sunburn, enough to kill him and blacken flesh.

Eris set the papers down, feeling slightly trapped. He steepled his fingers and stared at the people on the street. They were almost too happy for his liking.

There was a small yellow sticky note attached to the third and last page of the report peeking out, just barely visible. He flipped to it and felt his heart constrict. His face remained stoic.

—It looks exactly as if this guy was killed by the androids. Anyone up for coffee?

Whether or not that note was meant to accompany the report, or if it was just an offhand thought accidentally left on the paper before being packaged and sent to him, he didn't know. But the note echoed the nameless fear in the back of Eris' mind.

If it was the androids, if they're alive...

Aubry—Avery, he'd have to remember that name—was not one of the androids, that was not in his thoughts. There was a second being there that night, Eris was sure. Too many things didn't add up.

More than once Eris had been to cities the androids' had demolished, and seen the corpses, to survey his own interests. They didn't have the look of a man burned by fire, or scathed by a bomb. They were a strange sight to behold, indescribably so. Their bodies were tossed, as if carried by some force, twisted and gnarled, or else disintegrated entirely. Their deaths were unique to a style.

Calmly, despite his inner near-panic—for Eris was human himself and starkly aware of his mortality when it came to the androids—he set the reports down, and went back to eating. He would have to decide what to do from here.

Even if it turned out to be a false alarm, and not the androids at all, it would be judicious of Eris to assume the worst and act accordingly. Still, more would have to be learned before he would decide on a course of action.

Morgan noticed, with no small amount of shock, that Eris' hand trembled ever so slightly, despite the cold look of resolution on the man's face.

Avery was lying in bed, half awake, and with her body twisted inside the covers. Her head lay at a strange angle, flung to the side, her eyes shut. She was drooling just a little bit out of an open mouth, though at the moment she didn't really care, or else hadn't noticed.

It was already noon, and she had been laying motionless for the better part of the two hours she had been awake.

Her head pounded, she felt nauseous, and very irritable. She had a hangover. An empty bottle of spiced rum lay on the floor, along with a shattered bottle of cream liquor and numerous beer bottles in various stages of emptiness, and two more half empty bottles of wine sat next to the rum.

Avery didn't want to rise and view the destruction that she would have to clean up.

Without warning, a keening shriek cut into her ears.

The fucking phone!

Groaning, her irate murmurings distorting the vile swearing pouring from her mouth, she wormed her arm free and snatched the phone up.

"Yeah?" she snapped gruffly.

"Avery? You sound like you had a rough night." It was Langdon. His slight northern brogue was, as usual, very pretty to hear. Of all the people that could have called her, Langdon's voice was a welcome sound.

"Brigit came over. We drank to her divorce." It hadn't exactly been a rough night; quite the opposite, in fact. From what Avery could remember, it had been a very good night. It was the waking up that she hated.

Where the hell is Brigit, anyway? Did she go home or sleep on the floor, or what? When did I get into bed?

"Oh. Well, she seems to be taking that well."

"She had a fucking party. You tell me how she's taking it," Avery mumbled, slowly inching her way back into the comforting warmth of her bed.

"Damn glad to be rid of John, I'll bet," Langdon said, rather gently. "Listen, Avery. This is important. What happened the night you did that exchange?"

"Huh? I did the exchange," Avery said flatly.

"No, I mean; well...what happened? On the way there. You were attacked. Was there anyone there, too? Other than the men from the White Snake."

"Yeah, Juunana," Avery said, without thinking about it. Hangovers tended to seriously deplete her common sense. "How come you want to know?" And what would it matter?

"Juunana?"

"He's a friend of mine," Avery said, for lack of a better term. "Acquaintance, whatever...I know him."

"Oh...really?" Langdon asked, sounding slightly amazed. "Do you know who a man named Eris is?"

"No," she answered flatly. "Who cares?"

"He's the head of the White Snake syndicate," Langdon said. "It was his men who were killed. Something's wrong, Avery."

Avery's eyes opened, and she stared up at the ceiling, feeling something dreadful creep into her body. She said nothing, so Langdon continued.

"Whatever was on those autopsy reports doesn't add up. He's mincing."

"Mincing?" Avery asked, fear slipping into her.

"They know who you are, Avery," Langdon said. "I can't tell you any more than that. And they know someone else was there, too."

Shit!

Avery swallowed in a dry throat.

"Be careful," Langdon continued. "You're a friend."

"...Okay. Thanks," Avery said, now struggling to become lucid. She'd gone rather pale, and was inwardly cursing herself. "Is that all?"

"Yeah. I'll call you if anything comes up."

"...Thanks," Avery said, and the line went dead. She winced as the flat tone seared her hearing. She let the phone fall from her hand, and drop on the mattress.

Without saying anything, she rolled over, clumsily extricating herself from her blankets.

It had been dangerous for Langdon to call...what if the line was tapped? What if they could trace—no, he would have called from a pay phone, to avoid that—what if they could recognize the voice? Track even Langdon down for aiding her? He'd endangered himself. He'd put himself...even his own syndicate could retaliate against him! How did he know that information in the first place?

"David," she called out, voice hoarse. "David!" She glanced at the mirror. Her hair was a wild cloud of darkness, and her clothes were disheveled. She certainly was no morning flower. Avery looked like the risen dead. Also, her arm looked like hell, and had bruised terribly sometime last night. A dark purple stain stood out against her pale skin.

When the boy didn't answer she staggered into his room, avoiding the shattered glass with remarkable success. He looked up from his work, startled.

Doing homework? I'll be fucking damned...

"Holy shit!" he yelped suddenly, staring at her appearance. His English work was forgotten.

"Where's Brigit?" Avery snapped shortly.

"Went home in a taxi at four-something in the morning," David said, rising to his feet. A badly hungover Avery had never scared him before. Something about her haggard, wild-eyed appearance set him on edge. "What's wrong?"

"Ah," Avery said, having no recollection of that. It didn't matter. "We might have to leave town. I might have to send you to live with Laure—Linda. I can't fucking keep names straight!" Her head spun, and thudded with every beat of her heart. Just how much had she drunk, last night, anyway? She didn't want to start counting.

"What! How come!" David demanded angrily. He was not partial to Avery's friend.

"Can it," Avery snapped back, her hoarse, grating voice brooking no argument. "The syndicate."

The word struck terror into David, and he stumbled backwards, staring at Avery with a strange mix of horror and absolute fear. He knew without being told what she meant.

Without another word, Avery turned, and staggered back towards her room. He heard an angry howl, and an unintelligible string of curses as she sliced her foot on glass. His heart thudded in his chest, as he sank back into his seat, eyes wide and staring.

He heard the shower turn on, and his head sank down, his forehead pressing against his desk, as his chest began to hurt, and his throat constricted.

"Hey, Juunana! Come take a look at this! It's that Briefs kid from Capsule Corp.! He's on TV!" Joe shouted, coming into the front office. I looked up at him coldly, but didn't set down the insurance papers I was working on. I tended to work more on mundane, infuriating paperwork than I did on cars, lately.

But, though I hated paperwork, I downright loathed that purple-haired son of a bitch.

"So?" I snapped, instantly feeling a spike of anger in me.

"He's getting married, and he feels like he has to announce this to the whole fucking world," Vincent said, a disgusted look on his face. An obligatory cigarette hung from his mouth. "It's sickening."

I let an icy smirk break upon my face. "Why?"

Vincent snorted, and shook his head. He walked out of the office, back towards the break room.

"She's pretty hot," Louis said, and I glared at him.

"Who is?"

"His fiancé."

I will not kill Louis.

"Get out of my face, Louis," I snapped, and went back to paperwork.

"What the hell? Did this Trunks kid reject you or something? Sorry, not everyone's a fag."

Yet.

I looked up at Louis, my eye twitching sporadically, and my teeth grit together irately. I was absolutely rigid; it was doubtful even Trunks himself could have moved me. The pen in my hand shattered.

"Do you have a death wish?" I asked shortly, peering at him with narrowed eyes.

"So, how has Avery been?" Louis asked, moving smoothly onto another topic as if I hadn't virtually threatened his life a moment ago.

"No idea," I snapped flatly, and thereafter refused to acknowledge Louis' cyclopean existence.

So...Trunks was getting married?

In a spasm of morbid, masochistic curiosity, I suddenly threw the insurance papers to the desk, and stalked towards the break room.

I stepped around Omar, who was just inside the door. Vincent was leaning against the wall, staring caustically at the broadcast. Louis was smoking, as well, and smirking. Joe was apparently gone, and Raymond was in the garage, with Lee.

"The motherfucker's coming here for the parade. To give some speech," Vincent drawled, and I froze.

"What?" I snapped, and turned to look at him.

"He's gonna be some kin'a guest 'o honor," Omar said, and shrugged. He left the break room. "An' they're gonna present his mother with some kin'a key to the city. There's some huge summit goin' on."

Rage boiled up inside of me, and this time I couldn't completely keep it in check.

Without a word, I snapped around on my heel, a perfect about face, and headed for the exit, snarling viciously under my breath. I wasn't sure if I was worried about my anonymity—I could easily keep that by staying locked into my apartment—or infuriated at the very idea.

The bastard killed my sister. He ruined my fun—my life. I want him dead, at my hands, begging for his life. But first, I'd kill that human he's marrying, slowly.

I leaned against the outside wall of the garage, with my arms crossed. Halgrove's population had virtually doubled over the past week, and with it my patience had slowly deteriorated, and I'd become edgier. There was always the chance, however small, that a human had survived and could recognize me.

Avery stared down at David, chalk-faced. Her dripping wet hair hung around her face, framing wide, terrified eyes. She was on the ground, David's head cradled in her lap. She held his head.

David was calming down, finally. The attack was ending. He had a vise-like grip on her hand, and she gripped his just as hard. His labored breathing was slowing down, becoming less agonizingly strained, and air finally slipped into his lungs without the awful, hacking strangulation. It was a horrific thing to watch David whip around, trying desperately to breathe.

His face was gray, and sweat glittered on his his face. His hollow eyes held hers in an unblinking, wide-eyed stare. His mouth was wide, as he sucked in gasps of air, reedy and painful to hear.

She smoothed hair out of his face, and took a deep, steadying sigh. She shook badly, and her mind swirled.

Without saying anything, she picked David up, by his back and his legs, hooking her arms under him for support, carried him to the couch, and set him down. She straightened, and put her hands into the pockets of her ratty blue robe.

It had been a long time since he'd had such a bad attack, and the shivering fear she felt lingered inside of her, even as she was grateful that it was ending.

The White Snakes would come after David—it was a safe enough bet that Avery assumed that it would happen. And now Juunanagou was mixed up in it. She felt physically sick, and her legs threatened to give out on her. The blood thundered in her head, clouding her thoughts, mixing with her hangover.

"Avery...?" David croaked, tears streaming silently out of his eyes.

Avery sat down heavily on the coffee table, and wrapped her arms around her stomach. Her face crinkled in a sardonic half-smile.

"You're still alive," she said weakly, in a voice laced with weariness and relief.

David heaved a cough, his face twisted in pain. He laid back, slowly regaining his strength.

"Didn't I tell you not to scare me like that?" Avery asked, but her voice held none of the bite that it usually did. She was too tired and harassed.

David shifted, throwing her a pleading, irritated look. "The syndicate?"

She took a sharp, heavy sigh. Her head soared, and she reeled.

"Langdon called. The syndicate's after me," she said flatly. "I can't believe I was so stupid..."

David was ten times as vulnerable as she, because of his age and his fragile health. She'd have to get to Juunana, and warn him...

"What about Juunana?" David asked, his voice sounding clearer, but still soft and strained.

"They're after him, too," Avery said bitterly. I'm so sorry. I've gotten too many people invovled.

David said nothing for a few seconds, and then he gasped, "He works at Joe's Auto, near that flower shop on Pearl...in that lot..."

"How do you know that?" Avery asked, quite surprised.

"That night..." David muttered, and then his eyes shut. He'd fallen asleep. His breathing was evening out, until it slipped in and out with such smoothness it would have been impossible to guess that the same boy had been struggling to suck in even a small gasp just a few minutes prior.

Avery took another deep breath, trying to calm herself down, and then rose to her feet, staggering heavily for the phone attached to the wall, eyes glazed from the stress.

I wrote the first part with Eris shockingly fast. So, now things are going to begin to start going downhill for our dear android and friends. I hope I can keep this up. Ah, I forgot to say last time. I modeled Eris' looks after Heinrich Himmler. He had cool glasses, I think. I hope 17 stays in character, since I wrote this chapter a little faster than I usually do, I'm afraid for it.

And yes, even yakuza bosses are afraid of the androids. They can die too, they're not immortal, or stupid.

Juunana will feature much more prominently in the coming chapters, as things begin to heat up.

Just so you all know (Warning: Shameless plugging ahead!), I've started writing an original fiction story on FictionPress. My account name is Ginza. My profile's link to my page is kind of screwy, it replaces the "" in the URL with a 7E, for whatever reason. So. Just so you know. It's kind of about time travel. Rather psychologically oriented.

neko-kama06: Awesome! I'm really glad to hear you're enjoying this. I'm having fun writing it!

J.S.: Thought it was a lesbian fic, eh? Well, they're out there, but unfortunately I'm no good at writing fics like that. It'll probably end up being 17xAvery (Oh holy god no! An oc! Heh.). But that isn't going to come into the picture for a long time. I'm so happy you're liking this! It's great to know that people appreciate it. As for Mirai Trunks...well, I love him myself, but remember whose point of view this story is told from. Juunana isn't going to give his enemy any credit.

bishi-gojyo: Yes, Trunks is engaged. Hehehehe. I hope I keep on a roll with these chapter... Glad to know Avery's entertaining...