First, a big 'thank-you' to all of my reviewers.

Fragile Dragon: Thank you very much. I'm having fun writing this because it's very different from my other Ronin Warriors fic. No demons, or Dynasty, just some mortals.

Aurora2361: Thank you. I hope you continue to read.

Meira Evenstar: I'm glad you're enjoying it!

Disclaimer: I in no way own, or claim to own, the great entity that is the "Ronin Warriors." The events in this story however...

Hostage

Chapter 3

11:30 a.m.

Rowen stared at the clock impatiently. Two minutes had passed. He heard the criminals shouting at each other, and then a loud thump as one of them kicked the impenetrable vault. Then he heard a saw being revved up. 'How did they get an electric saw in here?' Rowen thought. Apparently it was of little help, as he soon heard the saw turned off, and one of the men threw it angrily against a marble column. 'Temper, temper!' The men began to argue again, trying to decide on the best way to enter the treasure trove.

The people around him were beginning to get hysterical. Indeed, the young teller was practically bawling from where she sat, leaning up against the wall.

Rowen watched the scene with an eerie feeling of detachment. He felt more like a silent observer than a participant in this situation. He attributed it to desensitization. All of the things he went through in his life made him stoic, more able to stand calmly aside from a crisis. That was how he and Ryo had gotten through the Dynasty alone. Even in the midst of battle, Rowen was able to analyze the situation and decide the appropriate action, even the action that required the sacrifice of his own life. Even now, as he thought back on that moment, he was disappointed at how little emotion his actions wrought in him. He always thought that something like attacking Lady Kayura, leaving Ryo an opportunity to save the others at the expense of his own life should have made him feel… something more than it did; something other than calm resignation.

And that was how he felt in the bank, unfazed by his own situation.

Not to say that he was not worried about those around him. For some reason Rowen always felt more worth in the lives of others than in his own life. That was why in so many battles he had thrown himself in front of his comrades to protect him. Some called it a hero-complex, some selfless, but he knew it was all about low self-esteem and self-worth.

The woman next to him whimpered, and he forced himself to analyze what was happening. The men could not get into the vault, which meant either 1: they would give up and skip out of the bank happily, which was highly unlikely, or 2: they would announce that they had taken the bank hostage and demand access to the vault. Rowen felt that number two was probably where the situation was headed right now.

11:50 a.m.

"Who knows how to open the damn vault!" the gunman called out. Silence met his words. "WHO KNOWS!" he shouted again. He rounded on the tellers, angry eyes demanding answers.

"The… the bank manager," one of the tellers, an older man sputtered in fear, shrinking back as the gunman approached him.

"Where's the bank manager?"

"He's not working today," the teller replied.

"And he's the only one who can open the vault?" He nodded nervously. "Then what the hell do you do with the money at the end of the day?" The man pointed to a small safe on the wall. "Open it," he commanded, untying the man's hands.

"But… there isn't any money in there… it's all in the tills…" the teller pointed out nervously.

"Open it," the man ordered again, pointing the gun at the older man's forehead. The teller did not need to be told twice. He scrambled to his feet, the soles of his shoes squeaking as he moved across the marble floor. He threw open the cover to the safe, and rapidly spun the combination. After the third number, he tugged on the door, but it did open. The man's hands, clammy from anxiety tried the combination again, his fingers slipping on the wheel. It did not work again, and Rowen could hear his nervous breathing increase, along with his heart rate.

Rowen sighed out loud, and then thought to himself, 'There's no way this guy is going to get it open without having a heart attack.' There was sweat pouring down the teller's face now, and he nervously pulled on his tie.

"What's the problem?" the gunman asked, stepping over to the safe.

"I… I…" the man was so scared that he could not even speak.

"Open it now, or you'll be the first to die!"

At those words, every hostage in the room abruptly looked up. 'First to die! That meant he is actually going to kill some of us! That crazy bastard!'

The man seemed to wilt at the gunman's words, his face turning stark white. "Please… I have a wife… and a little girl… please…"

"Just ask him for the combination!" Everyone, including Rowen, was surprised when Rowen shouted those words across the stark white marble.

"What did you say?" the gunman demanded.

"He's so scared he can't even spin the dial anymore, just ask him for the combination and put it in yourself," Rowen explained fearlessly. Compared to being stared down by Anubis as a Warlord, Lady Kayura, and Talpa, one thug with a gun was nothing.

"Silence!" he shouted. "I will not be ordered about! I have the power!" the gunman shouted maniacally. "And you'll all do exactly as I say! Especially you!" he added, glaring at Rowen. Rowen sucked in a breath, waiting for the gunman to make some sort of action. However, nothing happened. Rowen was beginning to feel lucky until the gunman whispered to one of his goons. The goon walked over to Rowen and dragged him to his feet – by his hair. Rowen bit his lower lip as the electric blue mass threatened to be ripped from his skull.

"You don't talk to the boss like that," the man threatened, his face inches from Rowen's. He was a tall, rather brawny looking man.

"Oh really," Rowen replied conversationally. This statement was met by a hand colliding painfully with his left ear. The effect of the goon cupping his hand forced the air into his ear, and made it feel as if it would explode. Rowen, however, did not give him the satisfaction of showing that he was anything but disinterested. The goon held the knife threateningly in front of Rowen's face, but it was just a warning. He let go of his slackened hold on Rowen's hair, and forced him back onto the floor.

Once the goon walked away, he heard a voice whisper towards him. "That was very foolish," the older woman next to him said. "I'd rather not see you dead." Rowen grimaced.

12:01 p.m.

Kento and Sage sat side-by-side in the stands. Next to Sage was an empty seat, Rowen's seat. "Where is he?" Kento hissed to Sage as the game began. "He was making such a big deal about wanting to come, so why isn't he here?"

"I don't know, he's only one minute late, maybe he overslept?" Sage suggested. Kento looked satisfied with the response, a little peeved maybe, but not anxious about Rowen's whereabouts. Sage however, was worried.

'Come on Rowen. Where are you?' he wondered, distracted from the game that he really did not want to see anyhow. 'Why do I get the feeling that something is wrong?'