Disclaimer – All characters and dialogue present in the anime and manga Burst Angel and Burst Angel: Infinity are registered trademarks and copyright of Funimation and studio Gonzo. All characters and dialogue not used within Burst Angel belong to me.

A/N: A big thankyou to all who read chapter one of Crimson Burst Angel, and especially big thanks to NSKruger for reviewing! For the link to the YouTube video, visit my profile page.

Crimson Burst Angel

By Zerrat

"The sole purpose of their existence, everything that they know is to seek out enemies and destroy them.

Desire was never part of the equation."

Glenford, Episode 23, 'Red Sea Gallows'

Chapter Two: Vengeful Fury

Tokyo City, when Meg had first arrived in the hopelessly corrupt and overrun metropolis, had repulsed her. The pain and suffering, the apathetic look in the eyes of the civilians as they tries to eke out a scarce existence amidst the terror and rot affecting the city at it's very core. But, perhaps what most disgusted Meg was that she had seen that look before. Back home – back in New York. The blank stare of those who knew they were damned no matter what they did, no matter who they turned to, what they stole to survive.

Meg waited for the lights to change before crossing the road, valuing her life a little too much to tempt the raging traffic that characterised Tokyo. She tilted her face up, staring up at the dizzying heights of the skyscrapers all around her, staring at the black night sky and at the dim silver orb in the sky. It was her night off from Bai-Lan's never-ending schedule, and Sei had practically ordered her to go into the city and try to have some fun. Meg wasn't against it, so to speak. She just had a lot of pro-bono jobs lined up.

Things hadn't really changed for her during that one year she had worked with Jo, Sei and Amy for Bai-Lan. She had money, food, a bed and Jo, her best friend and the person she could always count on. Her mind instinctively shied away from the memories of the silver-haired gunner, and she crossed the road with the amassed crowd and darted into the side alley, heading north.

She hadn't truly grown until that… incident occurred five years ago at the RAPT headquarters. The day that Jo had forced her to look out for herself. Since that day, Meg had tried to fill in the gap left by the silver-haired woman. She had no idea if she had succeeded or not, but she was content in herself and her abilities now.

No longer was she the damsel in distress, the 'chief hostage' as Amy had once dubbed her.

The night air was frigid, and her breath misted before her as she jogged towards her destination. She couldn't turn her thoughts off – any more than she could have stopped herself from being ready to shoot at a moment's warning.

Admittedly, her fighting style was… different from the original gunner's traditional role of cowboy. But it was her own, and for that she was grateful. Reminders of Jo still bordered on painful, even five years later.

She hummed beneath her breath, slowing as she passed by a wall plastered with wanted posters, promising hefty bounties. She paused, snatching a poster that piqued her interest from the wall and smoothing it with her gloved fingers. A smile quirked her lips. Another dead or alive hunt for a spy who allegedly stole thousands in yen from the new casino down town. Maybe she'd check it out when her higher-priority bounties were taken out, if it were still available.

Meg smiled at her own idiocy.

"Of course it will be," she told herself quietly. She was the best bounty-hunter in Tokyo. She shivered as she felt the presence of someone else.

She crumpled the wanted poster, dismissing the image of the woman splashed over the front from her mind and letting it fall to the ground. First to the anarchy district to pick up a few leads on a bounty she'd been pursuing for several days, and then back to the Elizabeth.

Who knew, maybe Sei and Amy were watching every move as she made them… fighting back a shudder and the desire to look covertly over her shoulder for any hidden cameras, Meg jogged on, letting the exercise warm her slightly stiff body. Her left arm ached a little, but it was easily ignored. Just a nick from those ass drug-runners she'd taken care of the other week. Sei had handed them over to Bai-Lan the next day, for both punishment and oddly enough, protection.

Meg slowed as she felt killing intent swell from within the darkness before her. Her eyes narrowed, trying to pierce the gloom. Instinctively, her fingers drew her left modified Desert Eagle, brushing her ginger bangs back with her other hand before drawing the final gun. She cocked them, advancing forwards very slowly.

If possible, the killing intent boring into her very being seemed to intensify. Meg felt an empty calm wash over her.

Whatever you are, bring it on. I'm not afraid. Her teeth clenched as she eased herself around the corner of the alleyway, letting her guns lead the way and keeping herself low and pressed to the wall. She could hear the traffic of Tokyo rushing nearby, the steady stream of engines revving calming her.

"M-meg…" Something bloodied and silver stumbled forwards and into Meg's line of vision.

Time stopped.

Meg's eyes widened, the Desert Eagles dropping from her suddenly lax fingers.

Oh god… She pressed her hands to her mouth as a pair of bloodshot red eyes bored into her own.

"Jo?" She swallowed unsteadily, stumbling forwards. Was it really… Jo?

Jo's bloodied mouth twitched into a cruel smile. Blood ran freely down her body as gashes opened up over her stomach and face then stitched themselves shut instantly, burns flaring then fading from her skin, bruises patterning her body then vanishing. Meg fought the urge not to vomit, falling to her knees. Tears ran down her cheeks freely.

"Oh god… Jo…" She couldn't look any more, but she could see Jo's bloodied cowboy boots swagger into view.

"Why won't you look at me, Meg?" Jo's voice asked her softly, and Meg felt some horrific compulsion force her to lift her gaze to the crimson eyed woman's. A bloody rent ran down her cheek for a moment. A sob wracked Meg as she stared at the form of her best friend, at her Jo.

It was too awful.

"Why won't you hug me, Meg? Touch your old friend, make me feel alive, like you used too? Hold me like you used to, like you've always wanted?"

Meg felt herself rise to her feet, stumbling step by step closer. It was all she wanted to do. The only thing she wanted. She stretched a hand hopelessly out to Jo, nearly blinded by tears – then whirled and put a bullet straight through Jo's head.

The image crashed to the ground, leaving a giant, scaled beast in Jo's place. It shrieked in pain and fury, attempting to writhe to its feet so it could attack again. Meg snarled, rage nearly blinding her as she advanced.

How dare this creature defile you?!

Meg launched herself with a scream of rage at the mimic, kneeling on top of the creature's chest and sending a whole magazine of bullets into the mimic's head. Green blood spurted over her as she hit an artery. She reloaded and sent the slugs pounding into the twitching corpse of a bounty that had eluded her for a number of weeks.

((Meg peeled the poster off the wall in the anarchy district, running her eyes over the details of the bounty. A creature that escaped from RAPT's hidden laboratories, most likely a genetic experiment. In her mind, Jo's unobtrusive figure seemed to solidify for a moment.

"Big bounty for such a dumb animal." Meg sighed and flipped her ginger hair over her shoulder. "I guess that illusion-effect it has going for it really makes it a hard target."

Right, Jo?))

Meg wiped the slime from her cheek angrily, fighting the urge to fill this corpse completely with lead. How dare it use Jo?!

The pulsating green brain splattered all over the dirty concrete seemed to be the only answer; an answer that filled her gut with a sour bitterness. Her hands trembled. RAPT.

Her eyes closed as she wondered exactly how the mimic had known her name. Perhaps… it had lifted her thoughts from her head? Her memories and fears for Jo? She wiped her eyes quickly.

Not crying, she told herself firmly. Not after all this time.

But how had that creature known all that she'd felt for the silver-haired gunner? It seemed to be the only answer. Meg's hand clenched into a fist and slammed repeatedly into the concrete.

"Damn it…"

Sirens sounded in the distance, and Meg selected her 'proof of kill' evidence from the creature's body. A nice head would probably do for the cheats around the anarchy distract, she decided with a nod, careful to avoid the rest of the dying green brain crawling slowly and painstakingly from the illusionist's shattered skull. Her stomach twisting bitterly, she grabbed the mimic's severed head by the horns and turned her back on the mutated organ.

Those things deserved to stay in the past, where they belonged.

For Sei, it had been one of those days you rarely want to repeat, but knew had to be dealt with. More, the entire experience had left her drained of all life and with very little desire to continue on as Bai-Lan's leader. She sighed and took a long drag on her cigarette, inhaling the smoke deeply, begging mentally for it to revitalise her into a state in which she could actually deal with life. As it was, she had a pounding headache…

Four years ago, her grandfather had unexpectedly passed away, years – years! – before Sei would have even considered herself ready to take upon full responsibility as the Bai-Lan clan's head. In the weeks following his death – peacefully, in his sleep – Bai-Lan had been in chaos, the succession in confusion, her worthiness to the mantel questioned again and again. Sei herself had had doubts about her worthiness, and the initial weight of that leadership had nearly drowned her.

Still, here she was. Leader of one of China's most prestigious clans and captain of her grandfather's pride and joy; the airship Elizabeth and the flying base it allowed her to work from. As Amy would have put it, acquiring the airship had added such a degree of manoeuvrability, the likes they had never dreamed of in the trailer. Their entire operation could be stored in the airship and it still had room to spare.

Sei rubbed her temple, reaching for the glass of wine. The crystal stem felt cool on her warm skin, and Sei drained the contents in a single swallow.

Even though becoming leader of Bai-Lan had vastly increased her power in the field, the paperwork and internal affairs always seemed to leave her exhausted. Never a day went past without somebody confronting her about a choice they didn't like, or over the cutbacks to their squad's budget, or about matters as small as that they hated those they were teamed up with. Worse, when she finally turned them down, a couple of days later she would come across that same appeal – just in writing!

It was her duty to deal with it; an honour. Her grandfather had trained her for this, and she had known the inevitability of her fate for many years before his death. She just wished things were a little easier and less frustrating.

The door to her private chambers slid open – usually barely perceptible, but her migraine seemed to be magnifying every sound and making it hurt… Sei looked up, taking another puff. Amy, resident hacker of Sei's own Bai-Lan team, strode inside. Of the three she had started out with, it had been the then-preteen that had grown the most physically. Now almost as tall as Sei and dressed in a short yellow skirt, a brown jacket and thigh-high blue socks, Amy's brown eyes lit up as she began to smirk.

However much Amy had matured physically, mentally the girl had not changed.

Sei breathed out, watching the smoke slowly disperse around the room… waiting. Amy did not disappoint her.

"Meg's gone in the anarchy district again. That stupid know-it-all."

Sighing, Sei set the long-stemmed glass down onto the metallic table in the centre of her room. Bai-Lan's symbol had been etched into the surface – as it had been on almost every other surface available in the apartment, Sei noted with a wry smile.

Meg – possibly the crux of very many of her problems to date. A constant reminder of everything that had gone down that day in RAPT's headquarters, a constant pain. Sei truly wished she could do well by Meg, and when Jo's death had brought about a new state of focus for the redhead, Sei had nearly been thanking her lucky stars. Losing Jo had been a terrible blow for the team; to have her replaced almost immediately was like a godsend.

Sei regretted it now. Instead of accepting Meg's offer to fill Jo's role, perhaps she should have let the girl go and grieve fully. Now, the girl was almost as uncontrollable as Jo had been. Perhaps worse. Jo had been tempered by periods of calm and contentment; Meg was filled with buried rage and the desire for vengeance on the shattered and hidden RAPT.

"I take it you have put a tracker on her again." It wasn't a question, and Amy didn't even have the grace to look ashamed.

"You know what she's like, Sei. A big, fat idiot." Amy's eyes seemed to glint as she smiled winningly at the older woman. "If we can follow her movements, perhaps we might have a chance to get through to her!"

Sei looked at Amy for a moment, wondering…

She nodded shortly. "Very well, Amy. Inform me of any more suspicious activities, and be ready to scramble should she appear to be in danger."

Amy grinned widely and ducked out of the chambers. Sei allowed herself to relax, absently massaging the webbed burn-scars that covered her left hand. Five years…

Perhaps… it is not too late to put a stop to Meg's obsession.

Nobody gave Meg a second look as she crossed the line between civilisation and chaos; perhaps they were used to her presence in the district of Tokyo 'affectionately' named the anarchy district. Perhaps they noticed the steely look in her eyes. Or perhaps they were merely scared off by the fact that at her belt, two custom Desert Eagles were stashed. Either way, Meg didn't care. She didn't come to this district to pick fights with the common thugs.

She quickly made her way through the broken and shattered buildings, almost relishing the chaos and savage simplicity of the district. Only survival mattered, and those who survived were the toughest there were. Not even the new Tokyo police force – based on the Osaka design and implemented by one Takane Katsu – had been able to control the hardy weed that was the anarchy district. So long as they kept to themselves, Meg supposed, the Tokyo-Hanshin police force was content to let them be.

But RAPT, Meg had noted, were still high on their priority list. The remnants of the corrupted police force had dug themselves deeply into Tokyo's core, hiding from the THP with everything their cowardly hearts had.

Meg smirked coldly. It was not the THP that RAPT should have been worried about; it was her.

Since the discovery of the burned out and twisted hulk that had been Jango, Meg had been forced to admit that Jo had been destroyed completely during her assault on the RAPT headquarters. Even Sei was unable to add any details to Jo's end; all she had been able to recall had been the shove as Jo had pushed Sei into the cockpit of Jango, then a blinding light…

But even though that admittance had come, Meg was unable to let go of the anger that was buried deep inside her. The desperate need to avenge Jo's death – and life, she supposed – and the mindless hatred she held RAPT in. She had allowed herself no other course of action; it was what she had wanted from the very moment she had surveyed the wreckage, hoping against the odds that Jo had lived.

Meg snapped to awareness as she arrived at her destination, her entire body buzzing with energy. A run-down and charred out building of brick and mortar, it was here that Meg had received the information on the mimic bounty. An old man in the remnants of a pinstriped suit –

A few of the men lingering by the door looked up as she approached, all three pairs of their eyes lighting up with interest. Meg's mouth soured as she looked them over; skinny, badly-trained guns for hire. No doubt they only just knew the difference between the butt of a gun and the barrel – if that.

The weasel-like blond spat a bit of tobacco-stained mucus to the filthy pavement, the dim lights glaring down in a sickly yellow haze.

"Hey there, babe." He smiled, his teeth full of nicotine discolouring and decay. "What's you're price?"

In the distance Meg could hear screams for mercy, followed by gunshots. Quiet followed.

"Whachu say, bitch?" The taller, balding hired gun was reaching into his filthy jacket, digging around for his money. Meg's mouth twisted in distaste, the canvas bag with the mimic's head in it beginning to cut off the circulation in her gloved fingers. Her shoulder had begun to ache…

"Three times the pay." The final gun's eyes were gleaming with barely contained lust. Meg smiled sweetly at them, careful not to let her bitterness show as she reached into the canvas bag, seized the head by the horns and drew it out of the bag quickly.

The three mercenaries scrambled back as one, swearing collectively.

"Boys, if you could let your boss know I'm out here, waitin' for my pay off?" She dropped the head back into the back, wiping the congealing blood from her gloved fingers on her dark pants. She watched with a certain amount of satisfaction as the weasel staggered to his feet and vanished with a flash into the crumbling building they were guarding.

Seconds passed, and Meg busied herself with studying the cracked pavement, avoiding the now-measuring gazes of the two remaining mercenaries in the doorway. A smile twitched the corners of her mouth as she heard a muffled yell from the next storey.

An old, balding man craned out the shattered window, squinting down blearily at her. He had not changed in the week since she had met the old contractor, an already she could smell the sickly body odour radiating from him. His face was lined and craggy, and suddenly he frowned.

"Why, if it isn't my favourite red-head!" His voice was harsh and worn, but held that unmistakable note of a man wary of the company he was keeping.

Meg shrugged. "I suppose so. You got that ten thousand yen you put up for bounty, or am I going to have to collect it?"

The creases in the man's face seemed to deepen in affront. "Jaro! Take her proof of kill up to me to examine, then we'll think about payin' ya sorry hide."

The bald mercenary snapped a lazy salute, then seized the canvas bag from Meg's hands. She allowed this, fighting down the urge to take a swing at the misogynist's back as he vanished through the soot-blackened doorway. The final man – one with a face covered in tattoos – gave her a level look before following his fellows. Meg looked after them, her stomach beginning to roil with unease. She looked back up at the window the contractor had leant out of, waiting for somebody to shout out that they were dropping the bounty down.

There was a glint from above, and by purest instinct, Meg rolled aside as a bullet slammed into the ground where she had been standing a breath before. She scrambled to her hands and knees, her breath catching as the wound in her shoulder tore anew, warm blood beginning to soak into the red fabric of her skin-tight jacket. She cursed as a horrifyingly familiar sound filled her eyes.

-tickticktickticktick-

She yelped and hurled herself a couple more feet away just as the pipe bomb exploded behind her, showering her body with stray pieces of debris and rubble. She heaved herself to her feet, surprising herself at how fast she had moved, drawing her Desert Eagles as she went. She checked her ammunition as she bolted towards the burned-out base's entrance, and smirked. The clips were full, as usual. Meg pressed herself into the doorframe as she tilted her left firearm to catch the light.

There was a reason Meg kept her guns with a mirror finish, after all. She squinted as she tried to make out the details the image gave her of the dark interior. Weasel had come down the stairs, waiting in the oppressive darkness – Meg had no doubt in her mind that he was armed and more than willing to shoot. There was more movement, and Meg felt her entire body tense up. How many gunmen did this man have at his disposal? Twenty? Thirty?

She clenched her teeth. Even for her, it would be suicide to collect the bounty by force now. She would have to let this go – for now.

Meg wasn't about to die by some street thug's hands before she claimed her vengeance from the remnants of RAPT's dying corpse. Holstering her Desert Eagles, Meg turned her back on the gang of hired guns.

"I don't have time for this," she told the gang, and strode away from the burned out building. The blood seeping through her jacket was cold and frosty from the frigid night, and she grimaced.

Sei's gonna kill me.