Those who lived in Manches were afraid to go outside at night now for death stalked it's streets. The killings first began about a month ago, always on women with jewellery, vicious and savage the slaying. The bodies had been discovered one by one in dark back alleys, face down in the gutter, the belly or the neck slice open with a curved dagger. A city wide police search for the culprit was instantly put underway but by then, dark rumours were already circulating. Some people claimed to have seen the killer in action on the darkest nights, rising from the shadows like some un-dead, wrapped in bandages and sporting a jagged green leather coat. A single glowing red eye glaring at them from out of the darkness.
People were scared and when people get scared they made foolish mistakes. Fearing a rise of the dead every coffin in every grave yard was opened, sprayed with holy water before being buried again. Crypts were uncovered and stakes driven through the hearts and exorcisms seemed to be happening in nearly every house in the city.
More practical police work were employing new forensic medicine and even international inspectors had been brought in to try and hunt down this menace before he killed again.
But of course Jack had no need to kill, not here anymore anyway. He had in his hands right now what he came here to find. It had taken years, but finally…finally it was back in it's rightful hands once more. He had tracked it down from owner to owner, all the way from France he had travelled after it.
"Momma." His sighed whisper escaped through the bandages wrapped around his face as he held the cut stone up to his only undamaged eye cradling it in his fingers. Every surface smooth to the touch, cool and comforting. "Momma…" It was her, there was no doubt in his mind that it was her. Her voice was whispering quietly into his head, like a soft tune played on a piano. Slowly his fingers closed around it and he as he did, the comforting presence flowed through him once more, washing over his body. An embrace from the only one who had ever loved him.
Memories still blazed his mind like fire. It was not so long ago when people had looked upon him and smiled, only to have their smiles revert to horrific exclamation. The sensation of falling and then finally hitting the water, at least it felt like water but it scolded him like hellfire. Swimming in it he burnt, his skin ablaze with pain that the imagination hadn't the power to conjure. Even now parts of his body still ached and stung from that.
The utter loneliness of that soulless hospital, the bed in which he was confined for months on end, the searing heat of the light on his scorched skin, the doctors coming in an out never paying attention to him, only to his injuries. No familiar faces came to see him and one by one even they faded out of his memory until all he knew was that void like existence. He was an invalid, incapable of much at all by himself. For what seemed like eternity he was by himself.
Finally the voices came, telling him what to do; giving him the instinct to kill so he could survive. Whispering instructions into his head. At so long he escaped that sterile place with a swirl of red and ran out into the world, tears streaming down his cheeks. Only he found it just a terrible environment as the one he left. Jack was stunned by everyone who saw him, thrown out from life by his appearance. A reject, a failure of god, too unsightly to be allowed on the streets.
The voices inside told him what to do about them. That was what compelled him to steal his blades and take them up in the first place. For years now the voices had been the only ones who could talk to him without contempt. But not any more, now he had her back and he was never going to let her go again. Her ace was the one he had never forgotten.
A sudden flash from the stone in hands brought him back from his thoughts, a brilliant flare of light was erupted forth from the depths of the jewel and engulfed everything it touched. Jack was left there paralysed, holding onto the rock for dear life and in that instant, he was shown the future.
The usual voices in his head were silent as suddenly places he had never been, people he had never seen began passing before his eye. His momma, she was here, showing him something, a warning.
Three of them, three would come looking for him. Travelling from England they would come, come here. They would come here to this city and they would confront him. Two of them bore stones as well, just like his mothers and they were laying claim to his. No, he would not, he would never hand over his momma!
But the third, little more than child would be the one to take it, throwing him down into the darkness in the process. Crying out in despair, Jack tossed the light blue stone down to the ground and instantly the light faded to nothing; leaving him back in the empty water tower.
It had started raining outside, the distant crackle of thunder barking like a derange dog in the distance. Jack crouched there, his hands twitching in mid air. Slowly he knelt down and huddled there like a frightened child, cold and alone. The aqua blue stone lay a short distance away, now seemingly inanimate as the rest of the objects around him.
"No momma." He muttered, slowly crawling over towards it on his hands and knees; the bandages under his right eye slowing growing damp with tears. "I won't let them have you Momma." Slowly he reached out and picked the rock up between two fingers, then held it close. "They won't take you, I promise." It was something he would not allow. He had his mother back, he would not risk her again. He had been alone for far too long.
Glancing sharply to the side, he glared at the two daggers that laid on the floor near the broken mattress he called his bed. Taken years ago from the body of a solider, they were stained with dried blood. Arabic in design they came close to being scimitars.
Slowly Jack rose, the stone in hand. There were stayed as silent as a statue for a full minute before sliding the rock into his pocket and almost sliding his way across the floor towards the weapon.
He picked up each of them in turn, grasping the gold hilts with only two fingers each. Even in the late evening light the blades gleaming brightly. He could see his reflection in the metal. A ghoul like body covered in bandages, a few strands of dirty black hair trailing up on the top of his head. Only a space for his right eye had been left for him to see out of. An old blood stain from a terrible injury was still left in the middle of his forehead on the bandages. The only other clothes he wore was a dirty green coat and an old pair of cobble shoes he found in the gutter one day.
"They won't take you momma." He stated once before putting a hand comfortingly over the stone in his pocket. "When they come for you, I promise, I'll be Jack the Slayer one last time."
-
Most of Mel's profits came by way of universities as they were the only ones who seemed to want the books she had on offer. Apart from the various scholars looking for material for their research, few people came in through the front door. As such, Ayame's new job did not require of her very much in the way of effort. Still whenever someone did come in, the young girl had opportunity to practise what Mel had taught her the day before. She understood the currency system a little better and with Mel as a translator, she was learning more English all the time.
Mel had provided her a room here for a long as she wanted it and a job, which Ayame was most grateful more. The world outside the door of the book store was unfamiliar to her still and she needed something to get herself together. During this time, he began to wonder again if perhaps she had been wise in coming here. There was no doubt that killing the samurai would make her the most famous ninja in Japan but still, she was barley 16, hardly a battle hardened warrior like he was.
She shook her head, dismissing those negative thoughts at once. She may be young, but she was skilled. But was she skilled enough, that was the question? Silly girl, the ninja within told her spitefully, no more thinking like that. A true ninja relies on stealth not out right confrontation to overcome their enemies.
What upset her the most had been mistakes that could have been avoided. She had not had the foresight to prepare for an extensive stay in this country, failed to learn the culture and the language and on top of that managed to get herself into trouble with the local peace keepers the first day. Not a good start whatever her intentions.
"New books?" Ayame asked as Mel carried a box out from the second room behind the store that she used for storage. The women nodded putting it down by some of the shelves that were looking a little sparse.
"I get a new delivery every two months." She explained sorting through the books inside and getting them into the right categories. "Most of them go to the schools that subscribe, what's left I get to sell here."
"So what are the tables for?" Ayame pointed to some of the round tables that Mel was setting up in the middle of the room.
"Something I'm trying out to see if I can attract more business." Mel replied with a short smile. "I hope it works, this place can be a little dull at times."
Ayame looked down at the children's book on the counter in front of her, a book she had once read herself. It reminded her painfully of how far away from home she was. So far from what was familiar, so far from things she knew and those who had taught her. She did long for the familiarity of home.
That said, she had not forgotten exactly why she had come here. Ryoma the samurai was still here in England, perhaps even at his friends estate nearby. Once she'd gotten her feet on the ground here, she would finish her task and be done with it. That was the one thing she was absolutely certain of.
"Do you have any maps here?" She asked. Mel looked up briefly.
"Maps?" She repeated. "Sure over there." The woman gestured over to her left, towards a long brass pot in the corner, the tops of rolled up parchments sticking out of the top. Ayame quickly went over and began rummaging through them. "What one are you looking for?"
"One of this city…what's the name...er…Bristol." Mel pointed over to the wall just above Ayame's head in reply. Looking up, the young girl saw a map laid out in a picture frame behind a sheet of glass. It was stained brown but though it she could see the nearby river and the many buildings that made up the city. Written in English above was the word; BRISTOL. "Planning on going sight seeing?" Ayame managed a short smile, sighting the Falcon estate in the countryside just outside of town and as an added bonus, it wasn't too far from here.
"You might say that." She replied.
Mel looked up from her stacking at the sound of the bell as the door to the shop opened. "Ah Edward, good to see you again." Ayame leant over to see past Mel to their new customer. It was a young man with golden blonde hair, dressed in a red pilot's suit it seemed. Thick brown leather gloves and boots as well. A long white scarf was lying around his neck and he had a pair of goggles on top of his head, strange choice of clothing even for an Englishman.
The two of them began talking in English. Even with Mel's translation lessons, Ayame was still unable to recognise even half of the worlds in the conversation and her attention drifted from them both to other things around the store.
"Who's the girl?" Falcon asked, looking over Mel's shoulder to the new assistant at the deck.
"Oh this is Ayame. She's helping me out in the store until she gets her feet on the ground here. Got in trouble with the bobby first day she was off the boat, bless her." Mel replied looking back at her temporary help. "Doesn't speak much English, but she's a quicker learner I can tell you that."
"You don't say." Falcon stated putting his hands on his hips. "Hey Ryoma, told you ya weren't the one Japanese person who came to England willingly." Picking up that familiar name from amongst the English words, Ayame looked up sharply at the man who entered the shop after the Englishman. A Japanese man with black hair tied back into a ponytail behind him. It was him! Ryoma! The samurai…with the power Stone!
Her heart leapt into her throat and quickly she ducked under the deck so as not to be seen before he took notice anything in the shop.
"Must not like strangers." Mel commented with a shrug of her shoulders.
Ayame sat there with goose bumps travelling all over her skin. It was him! Right here, now. Inconceivable that he would just waltz right into the shop like this. The odds of that happening had to be astronomically low.
Regardless, the samurai and his Power Stone were within less than five feet of her own position. Slowly she reached for the collection of metal shuriken she had concealed inside her clothes. All she needed was one good shot at his neck. But quickly she stayed her hand. No, not now, too many people around and he would be on his guard. Ninja's struck when their targets least suspected it. The element of surprise was what she would have to rely on.
"Good to see you again Ryoma." Mel began to her second guest. Ryoma managed a short smile in response.
"And you Mel, it's been a while."
"Wang-Tang not with you?" The woman asked looking a bit disappointed. The samurai shook his head.
"No. He and I went our separate ways not long ago. I returned to the Japan and himself to China."
"On to business then, I need a bit of information." Falcon started adjusting the goggles on his forehead.
"What kind?" Mel asked, sitting down at one of the new tables. Falcon sat down with her, while Ryoma inspected the row of books to his left. Ayame could see him well from this hidden vantage point.
"What's the word on the grapevine about these killings in Manches?" Mel fixed her visitor with a soft stare. Falcon's expression was flat until he managed a short goofy smile.
"That's not a very usual request Edward." Mel began slowly looking him straight in the eye.
"Humour me." The young man said simply with his smile refusing to leave his face. The woman was silent for a moment, considering it, before she sighed out load.
"Not much difference in news than what you read in the papers." The woman admitted folding his arms on the table. "Why do you want to know exactly?"
"We've got our reasons." Edward replied doing his best to sound impartial to concern but failing miserably none the less. "So what is different to what the papers say?" Mel leaned back in his chair looking thoughtful.
"Well, there's not been much gossip out of that region." The woman explained with a simple shrug of her shoulders. "But from what I hear from my sources there's a pattern to the deaths the papers here haven't reported yet. This killer doesn't strike randomly throughout the city. Whoever and whatever it is seems to have a hunting ground." Falcon paused for her to continue, but she did not.
"And?" He asked eventually.
"And I'm not telling you where it is so don't ask." Mel replied, standing up and turning her back to get back to stacking the shelves.
"Say what?" Falcon asked looking taken aback. "Why not?"
"Because you intend to confront the murderer." She stated with her back to him as she placed a book on the top shelf.
"Whatever gave you that idea?" The young Englishman asked folding his arm, trying his best to look innocent.
"Edward, you are as readable as any of the books in my shop." Falcon heard Ryoma chuckle lightly behind him in response. The Englishman shot him a glare over his shoulder. "It seems your uncle's predictions that that reckless appetite for adventure you so enviously nurse is going to get you killed."
"You talk like I've already been given the death sentence." Falcon muttered.
"If you're adamant about going up against the Slayer, then that's exactly what you've been handed." Mel stated looking back at him briefly. "And with a Power Stone at his disposal, he's more than a match for you."
"You picked that out from the papers as well huh?" Falcon sighed.
"When you see first see a Power fusion, you know what it sounds like in writing." She told him, her blue sea glaring at him; her feature seemingly set in stone.
"Look Mel….this is important…that psychopath has to be stopped and let's be honest…the bobby just ain't up the job." His rely did not seem top score many points.
"I'm not going to be the one to tell your father I gave you my blessing to go up against a killer Edward." She stated finishing up her stacking. "Even with a Power stone in your arsenal, this isn't like other opponents you've faced."
"How was Kraken any different?" Falcon asked impatiently. A disquieting stillness settled over all three of them, each caught up in their own memories. Even though a whole year had passed every sensation was picture prefect in recall. The roar of the broadside cannons echoed through the air like distant thunder. The thick overpowering smell of gunpowder. The bright flash and gleam of steal as swords one after the other were drawn with a loud hiss and finally, all three remembered with distinction the horrific laughter of the captain himself as he stood with one hand on the helm and the other holding a pistol; smoke steady rising from the barrel. Ryoma put the book he had been holding back down and sighed. Falcon kept his glaze looked on Mel as she too was lost in her own thoughts.
"Oh all right Edward." She finally breathed turning around with a defeated look on her face. "You win. It's against my better judgment, but I guess that you and Ryoma are more qualified to deal with this than the police." Reluctantly she returned to the table and laid a single finger down on the map. "From what I hear, the killings are all localised here." Falcon looked down to where she was pointing. Running through the city of Manches was a wide river with a long bridge ran across it from one side to the other. "Here, most of the bodies were found along the northern side of the river near the bridge." She dragged her finger across the map to the bridge and back again.
"I owe you one Mel." Falcon proclaimed with a large grin.
"You owe me more than one Edward Falcon." She told him with a slight edge to her voice. "I'm beginning to see why your uncle and mother are so frustrated with you. What would your father say?" Falcon just laughed.
"Knowing dear old dad, he'd probably approve." Mel hesitated, then groaned.
"Knowing Pride, he probably would." She stated running her fingers through her hair. "Why is it that only your father's side of the family inherits that insane lust for adventure?"
"Adventurers legacy I guess." Falcon replied, standing up. "Thanks for the help Mel, we'll pop in when we're done."
"Providing you're not carved up into small bite size slices before then." Mel muttered to herself.
"She's a riot isn't she?" Falcon asked Ryoma as he made for the front door.
Ayame looked up over the top of the counter as the bell on the door rang again. Even if the timing wasn't right yet, she could not let that samurai and indeed the Power Stone he carried out of her sight. Quickly she got up and made for the door.
"Have fun sight seeing." Mel stated, opening another box of books to be shelved. Ayame paused at the door, her hand just reached for the handle. "Try not to get in trouble with the police again." The young girl smiled, a near sadistic twist to her face before she opened the door.
"Don't worry, I won't." She stated. "In fact, they won't even know I'm there." With that, she was gone. Mel looked back over her shoulder at the front of the shop to watch the girl whip around the corner vanishing in an instant. The woman simply rolled her eyes and shook her head before getting back to work.
Turbine ships were arguably the most stunning edition to modern warfare to date. Their creation had made all types of naval vessel completely obsolete and ground combat almost irrelevant for they could do what no ship before them could even attempt, they could fly. Quickly these strange flying vessels were becoming a common sight in the skies above Briton, from coast to coast and even deep into the country there were few people who hadn't seen one.
To Ryoma they all looked alike. The simple ship design was still there with two large fans shielded by huge steal mesh on the underside that allowed the ship to lift off the ground. Several more thicker fans ran directly through the centre for propulsion in the air. The masts had been adapted to act like the wings of a bird in the air, two large sails spreading out either side and another directly upwards like the dorsal fin of a shark. They were all twice as large as a any present battleship with several rows of mounted cannons on either side and two large turrets on the front and behind.
Falcon insisted that each of them was different from any other in some small way but as far as Ryoma was concerned once he'd seen one Turbine Ship he'd seen them all. Passing through the streets they caught momentary glimpses of one of the ships as it sat in the waters near the harbour. To take off, Falcon explained extensively in a boorish lecture, the ship would blow a burst of pressurised air directly below the hull. This would raise the fans above the water level for the ship to fly by itself. Ryoma tuned the rest out as the Englishman babbled on and on about how glorious flying was, the samurai's attention drawn off to other things. As such he was able to hear the faint but unmistaken sound of wooden sandals against cobblestones following them from a distance.
"Something wrong?" The English asked, noticing that the samurai had been looking over his shoulder for some time now.
"Nothing…" Ryoma replied before turning away and walking on. It didn't take them long to return to the estate and to the Hockenheim prepped and waiting for them there. A short distance from the mansion on the outskirts of the estate was an old air field. It had been used during the first years of the war as a depot for the new air force, but with the Turbine ships making planes obsolete it had been abandoned and then quickly purchased by Edward before anyone else could lay claim to it.
Despite Falcon's fondness for the new air based vessel they were not taking one over to the city of Manches in Ireland. Once more to Ryoma's distaste they were taking that outdated Bi-plane that the Englishman loved so much. Already the plane had been wheeled out of the large garden and down onto the air strip in front of the hanger. It had recently been given a fresh coat of red paint. The English union jack was branded on the left hand side.
"I don't believe you still keep that contraption in such good condition." Ryoma remarked almost casually as they approached the aircraft.
"Oh please, you'll hurt Hockenheim's feelings…" Falcon began, gently patting the wing of his precious aeroplane. "There there, I'll give you a polish when we get back."
"I do wish you would reconsider this trip of yours young master." Apollus began as his master began the final checks on the engine. "You are the Masters son, heir to the family fortune and to be frank sir, despite your estrangement with them your family would have my hide if anything happened to you." Edward smiled and patted the old butler on the shoulder.
"You know me Apollus, I can handle myself just fine. I'll be back before you know it." Falcon announced opening up a metal compartment near the back of the plane. Being a two seat plane the Hockenheim never seemed to have enough space to put things. This was a storage space he'd installed himself to end that problem. "And tell Gourmand his packed lunch was appreciated." Falcon began, holding up the wrapped bundle his head chef had prepared for their trip. It contained judging by the smell, warmed up pies, sandwiches, fresh fruit and a single beer bottle all of which was bundled together rather clumsily. "Unnecessary, but appreciated." He added with a short smile placing the package inside and shutting the lid.
"Falcon this is a two day trip at least, even in your aeroplane." Ryoma reminded the Englishman. "How can supplies be unnecessary?" Falcon hoisted himself into the pilots seat and pulled his goggles down off his forehead and onto his eyes. Ryoma who did not have much experience with air craft got into the seat behind the pilots as best he could with his robes.
"With the old Hockenhiem perhaps, but this is the new and improved version." The Englishman stated with a near sadistic twist to his voice as he reached into his jackets inside pocket and withdrew his Power Stone. "With this propelling it, this old girl can go just about anywhere in the world on a single tank of fuel." Carefully Falcon inserted the stone into a special slot on the front of his navigational equipment and instantly the jewel moved into place with a loud click. Instantly the engine of the plane hummed to life by itself and the propeller roared alive, spinning the without prompt of a start up. "We'll be back by tonight Apollus, have dinner on the table by eight." He called out to the elderly butler as he backed off to a safe distance.
"As you wish young master." Apollus had to yell over the roar of the plane as it slowly started off down the runway, gathering speed. Several times it lifted up, bobbing in the air before finally at the end of the runway it achieved enough thrust and lifted up into the sky souring higher and higher.
There was nothing like flying Falcon believed that with almost fanatically. The feeling of the wind on your face and through your head, the howling of it in your ears and exhilaration of being freed from the ground below. English words failed it. Ryoma on the other hand was quite adamant that he preferred walking, especially when their planes flight path was leading them almost directly towards a Turbine ship that was lifting off out of the bay.
The crew on the deck of the ship looked up as the Bi-plane soured over head, their own colossal behemoth of a vessel slowly rising into the air after it. The two fans on the underside spinning wildly to kept it aloft and the set at the back propelling it forward. The Hockenheim completed a barrel roll, avoiding their vertical sail as it lanced up directly in the centre of the ship.
Apollus watched it all from the ground below. Now alone he was now entitled to sigh out load and groan into the wind.
"That young man will be the death of me." He muttered to himself before turning around to trudge back towards the manor.
-
Weather conditions over northern Ireland were bad when the Hockhiem neared city of Manches. It had taken, just as Falcon boasted extensively, just under half an hour to cross the sea to Ireland. The Power Stone propelled plane must have broken a world record with that time score. Ryoma decided not to ask exactly how Falcon had gotten his aeroplane to respond to the elemental power of his stone as the samurai dreaded another boastful story, instead he just acknowledged the achievement and let it go at that.
The Hockhiem touched down on an air field just to north of the city. The fog was so thick by that time it was hard for him to see the lights on either side of the runway.
"How you managed to land in this I don't know." The guard present at the hanger remarked as Falcon checked in plane in, removing his Power Stone from it first and replacing it back into his pocket.
"Not much of a crowd here eh?" The Englishman asked, noticing the distinct lack of any other planes on the runway or in the hanger.
"We don't get very few planes over here. Most of them were diverted south into the air force." The guard explained. "We lock up at six in the afternoon, if your planes still here after that you'll be unable to get to it again until tomorrow morning."
"That'll be fine." Falcon replied paying the landing fee.
"It's still around mid day." Ryoma stated, looking up at the fate outline on the sun blanketed by a thick wrapping of cloud and mist. "We should have at least eight hours of daylight we can use to search for this killer."
"Good." Falcon said back. "Let me just lock up here and we can get going." He went over to the back of the plane and opened up the storage space ready to empty it. Almost the instant he opened it Ayame came tumbling out. With a loud yelp she crashed down over the side of the plane and onto the floor. Falcon stepped back in astonishment as the girl sat up in the midst of the untidy chaos he had stuffed into the back.
"What? Who the bloody hell are you?" The Englishman asked as Ayame began to wonder if perhaps she had thought his plan through fully before putting it into action. Having no nowhere else to go, she had hidden herself as best she could in the plane's storage compartment. It had not been a comfortable fit and now she was so dizzy from all the spins the plane had performed she couldn't tell up from down. "Hey you're that girl I saw in Mel's shop." Falcon stated finally recognising her.
"She's not just Mel's assistant." Ryoma stated looking down at her, one hand hilt on the hilt of his left Katana blade. "She is of one of Ninja clans. She's been following me since I left Japan." He knelt down and looked her straight in the air before saying in Japanese. "You should have stayed home little girl." Ayame finally noticing she had been discovered backed off quickly, reached for several throwing stars at once. Ryoma's hand lashed out instantly, slapping the metal weapons out of her hand before she'd even had a chance to reveal them yet. Ayame yelped and staggered back assuming a fighting stance instinctively.
"Steady on." Falcon stated as the girl rubbed her wrist, a thick scowl on her face. Ryoma maintained an emotionless expression. "You knew she was following you?"
"I knew someone was following me." The samurai replied as the young girl backed off a few steps. "But I did not expect to find my pursuer to be a child."
"I'm sixteen, I'm not a child!" Ayame said quickly in Japanese, recognising enough of the English words to understand the statement. Falcon, who by now was quickly becoming impatient simply put a gloved hand to his chin before speaking.
"Look I'm sure we can…" Ayame cut him off before he even had a chance to finish his sentence.
"Yamamoto Ryoma, I am Nakamura Ayame. I challenge you to a duel." She stated in Japanese. Slowly she raised her right hand and flipped her wrist. Instantly the short blade of a dagger appeared in her hand. Ryoma silently raised his own arm, drawing his blade out of it's long curved scabbard.
"If I could interject…" Falcon added trying to get between them.
"I accept your challenge Ninja." Ryoma stated calmly in Japanese, his free hand grasped the hilt of his second sword and withdrawing.
"I'm trying to speak here…" Without warning Ayame took a lunge at Ryoma with her dagger left ready. The samurai side stepped with ease and parried off her swing with the slightest twitch of his second sword. Ayame backed off a few paces before charging again. At this point Falcon had had enough and angrily he stepped between them; putting his hands up to block the two of them from each other. "ENOUGH!" He cried, his exclamation forcing both of them into silence and paralysis. "Ryoma, we haven't time for this nonsense."
"With respect Englishman, this is between the Samurai's and the Ninja's. Not your concern." The samurai stated giving his old friend a side glance.
"Yes, stay out of it." Ayame added in speaking in Japanese, her eyes held against Ryoma the whole time.
"Look, I admit I don't know as much as I'd like about this whole clan rivalry thing." Falcon stated with levelled eyebrows. "You can conclude your cultural practices later, but right now we're here to take a Power Stone out of a madman's hands." Ryoma remained silent for a brief moment, his gaze darting between Ayame and Falcon.
"You make a fair point Englishman. There is a time and place for everything." The samurai sighed reluctantly, sliding both swords back into their sheaths at once. Ayame looked confused. "But what do you suggest we do with her?"
"I've a length of rope under the pilot's seat." He replied flippantly, gesturing to the plane behind him. Ayame recognised the English and took a few steps back, holding her arms out in front of herself defensively. "I was joking." Falcon told her with a short smile.
"You were?" Ryoma asked looking a bit disappointed. Ayame said something in Japanese and Falcon was left looking a bit stunned. He understood a few words of the language from his travels but he wasn't as good as it as he would like. "She said she came here to kill me and claim my Power Stone. She demands that she be allowed to complete this mission." Ryoma stated translating it for him.
"Kid's these days." Falcon muttered ruffling her hair with a hand. Ayame brushed his hand away angrily pouting. "Hey, I've an idea." He added suddenly clicking his fingers. He knelt down so his face was level with Ayame's. "Tell you what kiddo, help us out with a job and you can go head to head with Ryoma for hours if you like."
"Excuse me?" Ryoma asked raising an eyebrow.
"Why should I help you?" Ayame asked flatly folding her arms.
"I'll buy you something nice." Falcon replied in Japanese along with the sweetest smile he could manage.
Ayame wondered briefly how she had managed to allow herself to agree to that Englishman's foolish plan. Perhaps it was that smile of his that made her feel uneasy. Whatever the reason, she was now standing on the waterside of the river that followed through the middle of Manches dressed in that dreadful attire English woman imprisoned themselves in.
This certainly had not been part of her plans, in fact, her plans seemed to go up in flames the minute she hatched them. She had been near open confrontation with the samurai, confrontation which she could not afford to endure as his fighting skill was superior to her own. She would have much preferred to use stealth to overcome him.
Manches itself was cloaked in a thick mist. So thick she could barley see the bridge to her left and the buildings on the other side of the river. Street lamps lined the water side, their lights growing dim as short as a couple of feet away. Separating her from a fall into the river was a thick metal fence that ran all the way along until the cobble stone bridge. As alien as she found Bristol, this place was even worse and the clothes she wore made the experience worse. Tight fitting garments made of elaborate clothe and impractically proportioned. Although truth be told she did not mind the glistening jewellery around her neck.
From the alleyway behind her, Ryoma and Falcon lay in wait partially hidden behind a pair of metal trash cans.
"This is what the Yankees call a sting." The Englishman explained. "The ninja girls serves as the bait. Our slayer won't be able to resist that pretty face with all that jewellery." He gestured in front of him to the young lady. From a distance she would looked like any other potential victim. "Our nutcase turns up to take the prize and then we go in and give him what for."
"Are you certain this is wise?" Ryoma asked, watching Ayame like a hawk.
"It'll work just fine don't you worry." Falcon told him with a smile.
"That's not what I meant." The samurai stated. "Can we trust her? She is here to kill me after all."
"Oh yee of little faith." Falcon feigned a hurt look. "Don't you worry that head of yours. Not only am I witty, sophisticated, handsome and intelligent but I'm also a shrewd judge of character. Especially when it comes to the ladies, even the miniature ones." Seeing that he had set him of on another boastful ego trip, Ryoma just scolded himself and remained silent.
So far they had not had to cross with the police who were out in full force on the street and they would like to keep it that way. If caught, this was extremely difficult to explain and even if they told the truth, none of them were going to believe it.
But that wasn't what Ryoma was bothered about most. It was something that had been dogging him since they entered the city. It was almost as if someone had been breathing down the back of his neck the entire time. A chilling realization passed through him at that point and he froze.
"Falcon…" He began slowly after a moment. The Englishman looked his way. "Do you ever get the feeling you're being watched?" Falcon remained perfectly still, not even blinking. Slowly the two of them turned to look towards the back end of the alley they had chosen to hide in. In the darkness that waited there they could hear the faint by very distinguishable sound of breathing. Neither of them said anything, both the samurai and the Englishman frozen solid as something moved within the shadows. Slow deliberate movements, that didn't make a single sound. Not so much as a footstep. Just that faint breathing gave it away.
With a sudden movement, a single blood red eye opened to stare directly at them.
The first hint Ayame had that something was wrong as the loud screeching sound coming from their hiding place. The next was Falcon as he came souring through the air out of the alley like a missile. He narrowly missed crashing into her before finally souring over the side of the river and into the water itself with a loud splash.
Ryoma was next, sliding out of the alley with one of his swords already in his hands, holding the weapon against something left behind. With lightning fast reflexes, a figure wrapped in white bandages came sliding out of the darkness to slam an extremely powerful kick directly into the samurai's chest knocking him over the ground and slamming him hard against the side of a wall.
"You!" A voice hissed and Ayame got her first look at the Slayer. He was wrapped from head to toe in white hospital bandages. A single patch of it on his forehead was stained with blood and several were loose at the top, allowing a few strands of dirty black hair to peek through. The only other clothing he wore over these was a torn and dirt ridden green coat and a pair of near worn out brown shoes. The coat was kept clinging to his body by a leather belt around his waist, the brass buckle rusted in places. Clasped in each bandaged hand was a curved Asian style dagger, the blades twisted down already held in a position to swipe and stab. "Won't let you…" The twisted figure hissed through the bandages around his mouth, the single unconcealed eye on the left hand side of his face staring at her restlessly. "You can't have momma. YOU CAN'T HAVE HER!" Without warning he dropped into a crouch before pouncing towards her with his daggers held aloft.