Hello loyal readers!

Can you guys believe it? It's been over a YEAR since I posted the first chapter of this story! Crazy, huh? On this anniversary-type-thing I'd like to thank you all so much from the bottom of my heart for sticking with this story even though it's a little different than your typical SB fic. And even though it's turning out to be about double the original length I planned. *cries*

I've been really into Star Wars recently, and I really want to see Kyoko and Ren in the SW universe! I started working on a one shot, then lost motivation/ realized I should spend my writing time finishing THIS fic. Lol

Today we get some Kyoko time and the end of Kuon's tale of tragedy. Hope I don't break too many hearts today!

Love you all!

-x-

CH33

"Um… Tsuruga-san…?"

Ripped from his memories, Ren blinked and glanced up at Kyoko. He felt like he had just been flung across time and space. A trans-dimensional transplant.

"Tsuruga-san," Kyoko hazarded again, eyes darting up then quickly glancing off to the side. "Would you… Do you..."

"Don't worry, Mogami-san," Ren sighed. "I'll be fine to finish the story."

"Ummm, it's not that…"

Ren glanced around them. They were still sitting on the bathroom floor. The shower continued to run in the background, the water long since having turned cold. He groaned as he reached over and turned the water off. He knew she hated waste of any kind, and the water had been running for this long. No wonder she had interrupted him.

"Uhh…" His partner was trying to apparently twist her fingers into a knot. She looked uncomfortable sitting on the bathroom's hard tile. "Actually…"

Ren shook his head. He had gotten carried away. He supposed his memories had trumped his manners. "My apologies, Mogami-san. Let's move to the living room. The tile isn't a very forgiving place to sit."

He stood and offered a helping hand down to her. She looked at it, then up at him, and then away again.

Ren's heart sank as his hand dropped. He had forgotten in the disorientation that he had just revealed two hours-worth about his horrible past to the love of his life. The perfect senpai she had built up in her mind had probably just come crashing down around her ears. It was a wonder she hadn't already deserted him… And he hadn't even gotten to the worst part yet…

"Actually…"

Past his despondency, Ren noticed Kyoko rising to stand beside him, yet, his heart pricked in pain, she would not meet his eyes still. A small blush dusted her cheeks.

"Actually, Tsuruga-san." Kyoko coughed into her hand, embarrassed. "Would you mind putting a shirt on?"

-x-

Consciousness came in gradually increasing waves, like ripples of water over the surface of a pond. Kuon blinked, eyelids groggy and slow. The shapes were blurry. His eyes closed. Blinked, then closed again. He wanted his hand to come up to swipe over his eyes, but it didn't respond.

Was he paralyzed?

This irrational, yet panic-inducing thought jolted him into consciousness. There was a wooden rattle and then pain in his wrists. Actually there was pain everywhere, as if he'd been tossed around like a potato sack. But there was a particular, scorching strain in his wrists and ankles.

Kuon gasped, wincing as the fiery pain settled into his conscious mind. His gaze darted about the room. Concrete, bare; dusty floors; he was sitting in a chair – it was wooden. There was a man in the corner.

A man? His brain processing the information again, Kuon zeroed in on the other occupant of the room.

It was a man sitting on another wooden chair, one leg perched on the edge of the seat as he calmly regarded Kuon. The man was a dichotomy in all black – combat pants, steel-toed boots, shirt, and trench coat – but on his face he wore a white mask. The mask was smooth, completely blank, except for two deep, dark eyeholes that seemed to bore into Kuon's soul.

That white mask. Kuon remembered what had happened back at his dorm room. His throat suddenly felt dry, and an icy chill streaked down his spine. This was a kidnapping, expertly executed.

His first instinct was to struggle and scream, to get away. That's when he noticed the gag across his mouth and the bindings that wrenched his arms behind the chair and that tied his feet to the bottom rung. His fingers scrabbled along them. Zip ties?

Half experimentally, half hopefully, Kuon roughly jerked his hands apart. No luck. He skewered the man in the corner with a scathing glare.

As if response, the masked man rose slowly from his chair and cocked his head to the side, regarding the teen. Kuon's breathing quickened frantically, hot against the rough cloth of the gag. Despite the staccato pace of his heartbeat, he continued to glare up at the man.

"You have been unconscious for some time," the man said, his voice deep and garbled through what Kuon supposed was an audio scrambler built into the mask. "I wish to give you some water. I do not want for you to die, but you need to promise to be quiet."

Hell no. Kuon struggled more at that.

"Or –" The mask's eyeholes stared emptily at Kuon "–I could remove one of your digits for every syllable you utter. Where you are going, you will be just as valuable without fingers and toes."

Immediately, Kuon froze. His glare faltered, and his breath quickened again.

Apparently satisfied at his captor's fear, the masked man stalked forward, his tread surprisingly silent in his heavy boots. As the man approached and produced a water canteen, the Hizuri scrambled in his mind, desperately straining past his terror to recall his training.

The man curled a finger under the gag and pulled it down. That was when Kuon acted.

Pushing back with his toes, Kuon tipped his chair back, then swiftly strained the opposite direction with his body. This rocking motion propelled him forward, and he timed that momentum with stomp of his feet. With a hard crack, the bottom rung of the chair snapped out from under him, and he felt his ankles slide free of their restraints.

With a snarl, Kuon leapt to his feet and turned on the man. A brief blur at the corner of his vision was all the warning he had. Something solid connected with his knees, and with the bulky, awkward weight of the chair still attached to his upper body, Kuon toppled gracelessly to the floor.

Groaning and incapacitated in pain, Kuon couldn't defend as the man again kicked him, this time in the gut instead of his knees. He tried crying out, but all the air had seemed to vacate his battered lungs. The blonde teen tasted the tangy metallic of blood in the back of his mouth.

"Hmph." Above him through the fog of pain, Kuon could vaguely hear the man speaking. A heavy foot toed his flank to roll him onto his belly, coming to rest on the small of his back. "I guess you don't value your appendages very much."

A sharp, metallic shniiik rang out next to his ear. His breath hitching, Kuon's gaze shot to the side. The man had drawn a long hunting knife from a sheath on his waist.

The dark eyeholes of the white mask regarded him. "Escape attempts will not be tolerated, Kuon Hizuri."

Kuon's breath caught again. The kidnapping hadn't been random.

"Do not bother denying it," the man continued, sinking his boot deeper into the teen's spine. "I know exactly who you are. Who your parents are…"

Kuon's eyes widened.

"Kuu and Juliena… They would give anything to get their precious, beloved son back in one piece. Any interesting information, any treasonous action, any suicide mission… The possibilities are endless."

Unbidden, frustrated and fearful tears stung the corners of his eyes as the man's words sank in. Kuon grit his teeth. The CIA recruiters at the very beginning had been right. He was the chink in his parents' armor. What a fool he had been to think that he could stand apart from them, to live a life outside of their shadow – if only to protect them. His dream had always been a selfish one – he knew, but had willfully ignored it – because any and all future CIA activity would put him in the line of fire, and that line could always be traced back to his parents. This was all his fault.

The best possibility would be for him to take his own life and stop this madness. Kuon's eyes drifted to the man's knife.

Unless – a small bubble of hope swelled in his breast – someone came for him first… After all, Rick had been just on the other side of the door when this masked bastard had grabbed him.

"Hmph. Do not waste your time on daydreams," the kidnapper continued, watching his victim's face closely. "There's no one who knows where you are. No one will be coming to rescue you."

It was at that moment that the explosion rocked the concrete floor. Scared and surprised, the Hizuri yelped as small pieces of debris crumbled down from the ceiling onto his prone body. Another, smaller explosion rippled across the floor underneath him, followed by a peppering of gunfire and shouts.

"Typical Americans." The masked man sighed, and Kuon's heart leapt to his throat in hope as his assailant stepped from his back and sheathed his knife. "Always so rude and noisy. Excuse me."

The masked kidnapper left. Kuon could hear the heavy deadbolt slide across the door as his captor retreated.

After a moment of shock and another moment to make sure that his kidnapper was truly gone, Kuon wriggled around on the floor and, though it took a minute, managed to wrench his arms in their sockets up over his head so his hands were now in front of him. Picking himself up from the floor, wrists still tied to the back of the chair, Kuon set the wooden weight on its side and reached toward his shoes.

Fingers flying, he quickly untied his shoelaces and then retied them together around his wrist's zipties. Rapidly, he began sawing the zipties back and forth, again and again and again. Eventually, the shoe laces held. The zipties did not.

With a satisfying snap, Kuon's hands flew upward, finally freed. Kuon instantly ripped the gag off his mouth, sucking in a long breath.

Listening to the gunfire in the distance, Kuon looked down at his unfettered hands, flexing them open and closed. Then with a grin, he looked up at the door and snarled, "Alright, you bastard… I'll show you what happens when you mess with the son of Kuu and Juliena Hizuri."

-x-

From the sound of it, Kuon knew that his captor must have wanted him alive, so… He started screaming bloody murder at the top of his lungs, along with a healthy dose of "HELP ME! THEY'RE KILLING ME!"

It was a bit theatrical but effective. An armed guard burst through the door and straight into his trap. As the dark-haired guard was staring in puzzlement at the apparently empty room with the broken chair on the ground, he didn't even turn around as Kuon leapt out from behind the door, clutching a chair leg.

Swing, batter, batter.

Within moments, Kuon held the guard's heavy rifle in his hands. Hands that wouldn't have known what to do a year ago, now swiftly unclipped and checked the magazine for a bullet count, relocked the magazine into place with a satisfying snap, and rotated the settings on the scope, getting a feel for the sights. A couple of quick adjustments and the AR-15 was now to Kuon's preferred specifications.

A brief pat-down of the guard revealed a sheathed knife and a ring of keys. Clipping the keyring onto his belt, Kuon checked the coast was clear outside his cell, and locked the deadbolt of the door behind him.

With the comforting weight of the automated rifle in his hands, Kuon couldn't help the grin that slid across his face. These assholes had kidnapped the wrong kid.

However, while the gun was a solid back-up plan, his training always emphasized the old saying, "Discretion is the better part of valor." And since Kuon wasn't planning on dying today, he was going to be very discrete.

Bit by bit, as his fear subsided, his training took over. Expertly, he ducked around corners and into closets to avoid the handful of guards that crossed his path. Whatever nefarious organization had kidnapped him, it was definitely not hurting for numbers of goons.

However, as time went on, the blonde noticed that the number of guards running into him were becoming fewer and fewer. Maybe the assaulting forces outside were putting up quite a fight. But something else was puzzling him. These men weren't speaking English. It sounded familiar, similar to Japanese, but not only that… He had heard this language somewhere before.

Kuon came to a fork in the hallway. One went left, and one went right. A quick peek told him that the right hallway was a better option. It led to a flight of stairs. The ground would be more heavily guarded but if he reached the roof, maybe he could be evac'ed by air?

Trying to tamp down his internal hope-panic, Kuon paused at the door at the top of the stairs, listening. Shouting and gunfire. But it seemed distant and muffled. Wary, he reached up and twisted open the doorknob.

It wasn't the roof. Beyond the door stretched a long, metal catwalk, and below lay an enormous warehouse. The sparse sounds of a gunfight echoed through the open doorway. Swallowing heavily, Kuon peeked his head out.

The warehouse was a scene of carnage. Behind stacks of wooden pallets and cardboard boxes, dead bodies lay scattered everywhere, victims of an apparent firefight. Not only were there the black-garbed guards that Kuon had seen earlier, but also a handful of American-uniformed soldiers that lay on the ground; a few weren't moving. As he scanned the gory scene, the gunshots echoing throughout the warehouse had thinned out until they stopped entirely.

Then there was a shout – "You bastard!" – and two figured emerged into a little central clearing. One was wearing a white mask, and the other–

"Rick!" Kuon gasped quietly, watching his dark-haired mentor as he leapt at the white-masked kidnapper. Rick landed a decent series of body blows on his adversary before he got slammed in the side of the head with a vicious crescent kick.

Before Kuon's conscious mind could keep up, his body had started to quickly yet silently make its way down the catwalk toward the center of the room where he would have a better shot. He knew that the only reason Rick was engaging in hand-to-hand at this point was because both he and his opponent had apparently run out of ammo.

As the Hizuri quickly lay himself flat on the ground to minimize movement and error, he set the scope of his rifle on the fight and he knew. If he got an open shot, he was taking it. His last CIA training lesson had been on long-distance precision shooting. Assassin's training or not – hell if he wasn't going to put it to good use.

Watching the fight through the scope, Kuon honed in on the action, watching Rick duck under successive kicks from his enemy. The black-garbed man similarly blocked Rick's series of punches and knee strikes, his mask flat and apathetic as he defended and counter-attacked. There were a couple of moments where Kuon almost had a shot, but either the kidnapper moved or Rick darted into the scope's frame at the last second.

Finally, Rick landed a grazing hit against his attacker's face, using a backwards cartwheel kick to simultaneously stomp him in the chest and in the face while flipping back to gain some distance. The man dodged, but not soon enough. Kuon saw a flash of white as the mask pinwheeled off and away from the kidnapper's face. And that was when Rick froze.

"You–!"

"Yes, Richard." His back still to Kuon, the man spoke. He straightened, brushing dirt off the shoulder of his black trench coat. "Can you please wipe that shocked look off your face? It is quite unbecoming of a CIA agent."

An uncomfortable knot twisted in Kuon's stomach, and he tightened his grip on the rifle. The kidnapper was still facing Rick, and the teen couldn't see his face. But unaltered, the man's voice seemed familiar.

Through the scope, Kuon watched as Rick grimaced and shifted back a step.

"Why?" Rick snarled, his hands curling once again into fists. "I thought we were allies! We've been on so many missions together! Did they mean nothing to you?"

There was a low, bitter chuckle. The man cocked his head to the side. "You of all people know how this works, Rick. We are only friends until someone in our governments decides we are not. Then all bets are off."

"Bullshit!" Swiping his hand through the air, Rick stepped forward again, thoroughly enraged. Kuon could almost see his mentor's fist trembling. "We're men! We are not just tools."

"That is just the way the system works." The man's voice was flat.

Rick took another step forward, stabbing a finger in the other man's direction. "Then change the system!"

There was silence. Kuon felt his heartbeat in his chest. The bad feeling in his gut twisted again. Then it leapt to the base of his throat. The unmasked kidnapper had reached into his waistband and had pulled out a pistol.

"Dammit!" Kuon hissed. Who the hell was this guy? Should he shoot? But Rick clearly knew him.

"All you Americans talk far too much." The man was speaking, his voice still flat and emotionless. "I do wish you would shut up."

"Why?" Undeterred by the firearm pointed squarely at the center of his forehead, Rick stepped forward again. He growled, "Am I hitting a little too close to home? That's the truth. Isn't it? You don't want to do this…"

The man cocked the gun. His voice lifted up at the edges, beginning to sound desperate. "It's too late, Richard. Back. Down."

Through the scope, Kuon saw the man's hand trembling at the trigger.

"Rick!"

Kuon didn't remember yelling, but he must have because Rick glanced up directly at the catwalk. The kidnapper also turned to look.

It was Kaiso's face.

It was Kaiso's eyes widening as he saw Kuon on the catwalk.

It was Kaiso turning back, gun raised to shoot Rick.

Kuon pulled the trigger.

Then suddenly, inexplicably, irrevocably, it was no longer Kaiso's head in the crosshairs of his scope. It was Rick's.

There was a shot, there must have been, but Kuon didn't hear it. He couldn't hear anything. Was it the ringing in his ears from the gunshot or the sheer shock from watching his mentor's head – his friend's head – Rick's head, just –

Kuon couldn't lift his eyes up. Couldn't move. The rifle tumbled out of his hands. Reality replaced the view from the scope, and it just confirmed that everything was REAL. It hadn't just been a nightmare. It was now a nightmare from which he would never awaken.

Rick was on the ground. There was blood. So much blood.

Kuon was vaguely aware of Kaiso scrambling up from the floor. The Japanese agent had somehow gotten pinned underneath Rick. He was now shouting at Rick, something, something that Kuon couldn't hear. The ringing in his ears was too loud. The shaky, shallow breaths he was taking were too loud. The memory in his brain was too loud.

The world moved in slow motion.

Kaiso stood – Kuon saw from some part that wasn't staring at Rick's bloodied body on the ground – he stood and raised his pistol at the catwalk. Kuon could only stare back, arms too heavy to defend. Legs too leaden to flee. And heart too numb to care, beyond a small, deep hope that maybe Kaiso would pull the trigger and end the nightmare.

Then Kaiso glanced behind him and looked back at Kuon one more time before slowly lowering his pistol and running away.

Still numb, Kuon saw a blonde woman running forward.

Then suddenly, the world rushed back into focus.

There was screaming. Tina was cradling Rick's body, trying futilely to stop the bleeding.

Then she turned and looked up at the catwalk, directly at Kuon. Her grief flashed and transformed into rage.

Murderer! You're a murderer!

-x-

NOTES:

Ask and you shall receive! So many reviews stated that they missed Kyoko that I had to include this small little scene in the beginning. Sorry that we've gone so long without our main duo; this arc kind of ran away from me. But starting next week, we're back! And launching into the final arc of our story! Re-Vote day is drawing nearer, and Delta is going to learn something that will put the LME unit under heavy duress.

-x-

MAILBAG

Shizuhoe – I actually switched the cover-up idea halfway in writing. I was going to have the smuggling ring be a cover-up for North Korea actually hiding listening bugs and hidden cameras in their smuggled purses and wallets. If it's high end goods, then only the rich, powerful, and influential would end up carrying them. Just imagine the intel leaks! Haha, but then I realized I included a little tidbit with Tina surveying the people… and I was like. Shoot. Stuck. Aaaaand, *dingdingding* Kaiso was indeed Lory's partner! Good catch ;D As for minors being turned into assassins – yeah it's kind of unbelievable and outrageous – which is why Rick was so outraged at his half-brother, Marcus. In my AU, Marcus and Rick share the same father, but different mothers. They were originally on good terms growing up, but grew apart as the years went on, especially after Marcus started the juvenile assassin program. Thanks for being patient with the length of Kuon's backstory!

Knight Patissere – Yay! Welcome back! Oh man… I hate when life gets in the way of fanfiction! Haha, just kidding. Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do! Thanks for commenting after catching up! And thanks for the encouragement! I think in the beginning, I was still trying to find my voice/shake off the rust (I hadn't written anything in over 5 years)/figure out how long I wanted the story to be, and thus what stuff to gloss over. But I'm really glad the way it's turned out! Thanks for coming back to my fic! :D

Guest – Yeah I totally agree with you on the idea that the CIA's reputation is that they get their hands dirty, but all in the name of the "greater good". I'd like to think that Rick is different – he knows that he has to kill, but he tries his hardest to keep it to a minimum. That's his last lesson to Kuon, and that's why he's so disappointed when he found out Kuon had enrolled in the assassin's program.

Spindelhona – Thanks for the alert and fave! And thank you so, so, so much for your words of encouragement! And thanks for your patience as well! I'm going to be going on a short trip to Asia soon, so I think I'll have some time on the long flights to write. I'd love to keep up the every other week pace, despite work. :) Really appreciate it and hope you keep reading!

Guineapigs1 – Yay! I love it when I hear that I can evoke emotion in my readers! And thanks for letting me know that you're missing our heroine! Your review was one of several that motivated me to write the blurb at the beginning. Kyoko still exists and is patiently waiting her turn…. Just so long as Ren puts a shirt on. Hahaha Thanks again!

MWEH – DingDingDing! Correct! Kaiso's partner was indeed Lory! :D You can imagine now how Delta knows so much about the LME unit. Btw, have you been going through Skip Beat manga withdrawals? I certainly have! I've re-read the written spoilers like 5 times, so I know what's going on – but it's still different reading the actual scanlated chapter. Oh well, hope we have the official manga in English by the time we chat next, MWEH!

-x-

PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO LEAVE A REVIEW, A FAVE, OR AN ALERT! ONLY YOU CAN PREVENT WRITER'S BLOCK! Lol (Smokey the Bear reference, anyone? No? Ok. I'll just show myself out. See y'all in 2 weeks!)