Chapter nine, and not much to say about it. Read, and (hopefully) enjoy.

Disclaimer: Still don't own nothin' of Konami's, no no, I don't....whistles

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"Showtime!"

A hysterical laughter followed this cliché. A man's laughter. A demon. Her mind may have quivered in the darkness where she was placed, her hands roughly tied up togther behind her back, wrists bleeding slightly from being handled without care. But the worst, the far worst thing was her face. Pretty purple eyes, sliced in the very iris with a tiny, thin bladed knife. There was a trail of blood down her cheeks, shaping her jawline and continuing down her chest. Someone had cut her hair; She used to have long, black locks of hair, reaching her waist. Now it barely made it to her shoulders, and it seemed as if something greasy had been rubbed into her hair. She might've been crying when consciouss, but no one would ever be able to see because of the blood. And she seemed to have been out cold for long.

Aikawa Kenshin calmly walked with determined, slow steps towards his most wanted prey of all time. Haruna Sarogure. His half-sister and weaker counterpart. Weaker, perhaps...He leaned down to face her, his cold eyes examinating her weak body. Perhaps. Perhaps she possessed some gifts from birth that he didn't have. At the very thought, his eyes stared at her in anger, wanting to bash that stupid, fragile little head of hers against the red brick wall which she was leaned against.

It seemed to bother Kenshin that she was out cold like this. It would be so much more...satisfying, to slowly squeeze the life out of her, crushing her face, tearing those small, crimson lips off her face, then taking out his knife, slicing up her abdomen, watching how the dirty blood of hers was being pounded out of her own body, her own heart-beats killing her.

His heart pounded. Fast. Adrenaline rushed through his veins by the images of him in his head, making an end to her life.

"Relax, now" He whispered to himself, as if trying to make a furious dog calm down. "There will be a time for everything. And, I'd say; killing her,"

He looked down at her again. Quick, but the look of her, blood still slowly trickling from her wounds, made his bloodthirst even greater.

"Will be at the most important time."

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"Am I dead?"

A cute, darkhaired little girl stood with a katana in her small, soft hands, not suitable for any weapon of that caliber. She had just opened up her eyes again, to see her father stand before her.

"Look at your hands."

Innocent, nervous eyes moved to look at her palms, to discover no trace of blood.

"...How?"

"Don't ask me how, child. The second that I got out here, you were already lying on the ground, pleading and screaming for your life." He paused to look down at her, seeing the shyness clouding in her eyes.

"Maybe it wasn't your time to go yet. I'll take this-" He reached down to pick up the katana. "And let this be a lesson."

She draw in air and released it into the most painful scream, when she found out what he was about to do-and did. The katana had already swiftly cut a fine, not too deep cut down her right arm. She grasped it with her other hand, eyes staring up at her father in disbelief.

"Destiny always leaves it's own mark at it's victims." His finger pointed at her arm. She ventured herself to remove her hand, slowly, and to her surprise, there was no longer a cut, just a thin, blue line.

"Perfect blue, my child. Perfect Blue."

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Hal Emmerich whispered again and again, eyes shut tight as if in prayer. His feat leapt at the staircase, taking 3 steps at a time, having visions of what could possibly have happened with those two furious animals being alone in his apartment. "Nothing good at that," He sighed, his fingers so eager to get the right key out of the bundle, that he dropped them, six steps down. "Oh, great." He muttered underneath his breath, wobbling down on unsteady feet.

He reached down.

And saw a crimson pool of...

"Blood."

If any man had ever been more shocked in his entire life than Hal Emmerich right in that same second, I pity for him. He tried to speak, and it worked about a good 50; his lips worked, but no sound was made.

And so, the strike came from above; a dagger with a blade as sharp as a katana cut right into the poor man's left kidney, leaving him unable to breathe. A feeling of acid burning his internal organs made him gasp, sweat running from his hurt body. There was no way he could run from this one.

"Snake! Help! Help me!"

The attacking ninja raised his fist, and placed a punch in Hal's vulnerable left side. Hal's head jerked back, and he spit out blood, eyes widened in deep shock for a second, the he took in breath, as if it was his first ever, and screamed, one last time.

"Snake..."

Seconds later the pleading scientist was kicked down the next staircase, left bleeding at destiny's cruel hands, screaming, crying, then whispering his best friend's name until the very end.

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"SNAKE!"

He awoke with a heart beating faster and faster, screaming out in pain and confusion. The yelling of his name seemed to be coming from nowhere, but he didn't care, as it was certain his head wasn't able to contain a great load of information right now. Yet, he remembered one thing.

"Haruna."

He had to find her, and he had to find her NOW. Even if she really was dead, there was no second doubting this; Now or never. Solid Snake jumped onto his feet not caring the least that he had just awoken from some of the worst nightmares in his life, and he walked fast into his bedroom. He pulled put a drawer, and obtained his SOCOM .45, still equipped with a supressor. He switched on the safety, and pulled out the magazine. Full. Digging deeper, he also got a few more magazines, a tranquilizer gun and a grenade. He found his sneaking suit underneath his pillow, where he had been hiding it from Hal. He allowed himself to chuckle a bit. The guy hadn't seen it...but then when he tried to get it on, he realised, that the bullet holes, scrapes and blood stains had gone off...and somehow, he came to the conclusion that Hal must've repaired it AND washed it for him. He smirked, then pulled it on quickly, realising the actual seriousness of the situation.

Then he winced in pain.

"Damn!"

A wound. Now he remembered. How stupid of him.

He zipped the suit up to his throat. There was no time to waste, and he couldn't take care of his wound now. He jammed back the magazine into the SOCOM, flicked off the safety plus the laser sight, and trained it at the doorframe.

"Time to get back in buisness."

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AN: Hehe. Left you at the exciting cliff again!!! :D I will get back with chapter 10 QUICKERS! Promise. By the way, at the end of this chapter, may I suggest the song "St. Anger" by Metallica? It sure stirs up some combat emotions! :P