This entire story actually owes its creation to an Ayumi Hamasaki song that I heard, called part of me. Yes, that's what the title is. The song is epic. Buy her CDs.

My muse wouldn't let me stop writing! This is the next chapter for today. No more since I'm on an epic quest to find the muse for Second Agent...

A short respite

"Ooi, ne-chan," Fiona called lazily as she lay sprawled out on Sara's bed in the Beramodo Agito. "Watashi wa taikutsu!"

Sara smacked her palm against her forehead. "Fiona sweetie, I don't understand Japanese!" she moaned.

Since coming onto the Agito, Fiona had gone under some sibling bonding with Dante, who she had gleaned languages from his mind during their hourly telepathic sessions. She was currently torturing Sara while the men did... you know, manly stuff.

"I'm bored!" Fiona pouted, poking at Sara's combat boots.

"Is there nothing you can play with?" Sara asked hopefully.

"Big brother von't let me play with the big guns upstairs," Fiona whined childishly. Sara's face lagged in disbelief.

"You're not allowed to play with the canons!" she scolded. "You could seriously hurt someone, or call attention to us!"

"I know that," Fiona muttered from beneath her hair and arms as she burrowed her face into the bed. "Baka..."

"Hey, I know what that means!" Sara yelled, grabbing a pillow.

-----

"What are they up to?" Chris wondered as they heard girlish shrieks from upstairs. "See anything with those X-ray specs Angel-boy?"

Dante scoffed, folding his arms across his chest. "And if they're having one of those female sleepover slumber party pillow fights?" he asked pointedly. "They could very well be topless now."

Chris shook his head in dismay. "Women," he muttered. "I'll never understand them past their bodies, those minds are whack."

"ANYways," Jack said, giving both men a queer look, "I propose that we take the South Atlantic route, it'll allow us to bypass many Navy ships and also let us travel near countries that don't like America too well."

The men were currently plotting their next course of action in the war room, where they had several holomaps on display. They had thick booklets of intel and information spread out on the large mahogany table, and several bars of Mars Bars littered around the desks.

What, they needed their energy.

"I disagree," Sam objected, jabbing his finger onto the floating map and drawing a line to the Arctic. "Even if we could avoid the battleships, they could shoot us down easily with their Phoenicai cruise missiles from at least 5000 meters. I suggest we take the Arctic route. There are no military bases there that are equipped to take down a ship like this, and we have more than enough weapons to take anything that chases us down."

Jack nodded thoughtfully. "Ah, you've got a point there Splinter," he said.

Sam gritted his teeth and swatted Jack upside the head.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to refer me to that damn video game!" he growled.

"Yes, the Arctic route sounds much better," Dante interjected, stopping the fight with a roll of his eyes. "Captain?"

Chris nodded as well. "Sounds good to me as well," he said, rubbing his 5 o' clock shadow. "But first let's stop off in the UK, it's not too far."

"Sure, but why sir?"

"We need to stock up on supplies, fresh food and take a little breather," Chris explained. He turned to Dante. "Plus your little sister might appreciate some material distractions as well. We have good ties with the British government and military, and the plus is that they don't know about our current political situation as well."

"They'll know about me at the very least," Dante pointed out.

Chris shook his head. "Naw, our government made sure that all television broadcasts about your discovery were kept in country," he explained. "The Pentagon blocked all outgoing transmissions through any media that day."

Dante nodded in respect. "Well then, touche," he answered with a grin. "Are we going as civilians?"

"We'll have to," Chris said. "We can explain that we're a patrolling warship that would like to dock and enjoy the sights while we've got free time, the Brits won't deny us that. We'll be off-duty soldiers, so we're still allowed to carry a sidearm with us."

"Works for me!" Jack cheered, a large grin on his face. "I've never had English poon before, I wonder if it's any good?"

"Ugh, you dirty pervert," Sam muttered, slapping his comrade upside the head again. "Think with your gun, not your dick."

-----

"Well, you two sure had fun," Dante commented as he opened the door to see torn pillowcases and feathers strewn about. Sara and Fiona were sitting on the bed with big silly grins, and Sara was braiding Fiona's hair into a thick French braid. She smiled up at Dante.

"We had a girl's night in," she said cheerfully, finishing the braid. She tied a pretty white lace onto the end to keep it together and Fiona pranced off to the mirror to check out her new hairstyle.

Dante settled onto the bed and automatically gathered the petite woman into his arms. Sara let out a noise of content as the two sat there peacefully, watching the younger girl prattle on in mixed languages about how pretty her hair was.

"She's so precious," Sara said with a smile.

"She's a very good reminder of what we're fighting for," Dante agreed. "She and you, of course."

"Nee-san!" Fiona giggled as she nestled up to Dante's side, dropping off to sleep nearly instantly.

"She's got such a child-like innocence," Sara sighed as she stroked the girl's forehead as she slept. "It's so rare nowadays."

Dante nodded and they stayed quiet for a few minutes, listening to the girl's soft breathing as she slept.

"We're docking port in Britain," Dante announced quietly as he rubbed Fiona's shoulder, making her grin in her sleep.

Sara looked up. "I thought we were heading back home?" she asked in bewilderment.

Dante shook his head. "We'll do that later," he explained. "Captain says that we need to restock and have a little break. I have a suspicion that the ship's power core needs to be recharged as well. We've been flying around for over 4,000 miles so far."

"Ahh, our old employers sure aren't happy with us," Sara sighed, falling back onto the bed. "How many missiles do we have left?"

"684 Silhouette missiles, and 4 nukes," Dante replied. "All Hailstorm repeaters are still at full charge. We're lucky we've only run into fighter drones so far."

"It won't take long for those idiots to figure us out and send airships or even battleships," Sara said as Fiona snuggled up next to her. "Hey, Dante. How come she doesn't change like your other sisters?"

Dante smiled, thankfully, as he placed his hand on Fiona's back as she curled up to Sara. "She didn't contract what they called the 'Vampire Genosis Syndrome'," he explained. "That what all the little sisters have. Like Daciana said, Fiona is special."

"What does ne-chan mean?" Sara asked suddenly.

Dante raised an eyebrow. "Several meanings, but the most common is older sister," he said. "She called you that?"

Sara smiled and wiped a tear from her eye. She gave the tiny girl a hug and Fiona squeaked happily in her sleep. "Yes."

"She must really like you," Dante remarked.

"I really like her," Sara said.

"Everyone likes her, even Allison, though she won't let go of the whole 'crime against nature' part."

"Well, she is bitchy."

"Heh, that she is."

"I'm trying to sleep!"

"Sorry sweetie!"

"Goodnight little sister."

"Night big brother, sister..."

-----

"Ah, it's been a while since I've seen the depressing grey skies of London!" Chris beamed as he stepped out onto the floating airship dock. He lit a Russian cigar and puffed away cheerily. "Hey Holmes, take good care of her, will ya?"

"Yes sir!" one of the British Air Force technicians saluted as he and his small team of mechanics boarded the Agito for recharge and repairs.

"Gotta love this place," Sam commented as he looked over the platform to the skies below. The Heathrow International Airship Port was located a mile above London city, in a large, cylinder-like platform, with a huge round docking disc for ships. Many tourists called it the "Chopstick and Plate in the Sky" since that's what it strongly resembled. The stick-like cylinder housed the Port's 15 elevators was built where the old Heathrow International Airport had once been, before its upgrade to airship support. The dock itself was 4 miles in diameter, and could house airships in midair or on top while the base of the cylinder was over 2 miles in diameter, and the surrounding area was a huge subway/taxi/hotel area for travellers. There was a special section at the 6 o' clock section of the docking disc, where the Beramode Agito was currently docked, securely clamped in midair with huge docking vices.

"Welcome to London Captain Topher and team," a delightful looking gate minder greeted as they walked up to their elevator. "We've detected no illegal items or substances on board your military craft. The British Commonwealth welcomes you to its homeland and if you have some time, I would like to explain some rules?"

"Go ahead," Chris waved.

"You are currently on off-duty military status in agreement with the UN treaty, however you, as officers, are permitted to carry sidearms, which I see you have."

Chris' squad was equipped with SOCOM .45 pistols and Dante was unarmed, for his stuff was in a pocket dimension, along with their bigger weapons. Since drawing his canon-sword would be a big bullseye on Bad Company, Dante opted to carry a katana he had ordered online and picked up. It was a mass production-made blade, but was traditionally forged so it would be good enough for the man. Dante felt somewhat lighter with the sword's overall length of 4 feet, but he would survive for now. The sword was kept in a pocket dimension that Dante carried the trigger for in his left glove.

"While you enjoy your stay here, I must request that you do not instigate any international incidents or attacks. As officers of your military, you have free reign over wherever you would like to stay or visit. Your expenses have been taken care of with your country's military credit, here you are."

The gate minder handed each person (minus Allison and Fiona) holo credit cards. They looked like normal credit cards, except that one side was transparent and holographic, showing an intricate encryption code, which was the security feature. The cards were US Military issued American Express cards with a $100,000 a day limit and $1,000,000 yearly limit, although they could only be used for a maximum of one month. It was paid for by the Gaia M. corporation, but the group figured they'd might as well make use of their enemy's funding.

"Now, we've arranged a limousine for you, and your hotel lodgings are at the Jumeirah Carlton Tower hotel in Knightsbridge, like you requested. Is that all you need for now sir?"

Chris nodded. "Yes, thank you," he said, holding out his card. The gate minder held out a holo scanner. Chris swiped his card against the laser reader and said, "$50."

The gate minder bowed graciously and waved his hand to the elevator. "Thank your very much sir, now, your ride awaits."

They entered the huge gondola-like elevator and settled into the couches that were arranged in a circle shape, like the elevator itself. There were several holo TVs projecting shows and news in the air and a little fridge that held some beverages and snacks. Dante gave Fiona some fruit punch juice and a bag of chips before patting her on the head and sitting next to Sara.

"That was a generous tip," Sam commented.

Chris shrugged. "Might as well put Gaia's money to good use," he retorted to laughter.

-----

An hour later, they finally descended to the ground and boarded the shuttle train that took them outside of the airport, to where a long white hover limo floated in wait.

"I guess we're travelling in style," Dante said with a shake of his head as they entered the luxurious transport.

"We're army apes," Chris grumbled as he sat down with a beer in his hand from the mini fridge. "If I can get me some comfort easy, then I'll get it."

"Wow, look at all the humans!" Fiona giggled excitedly. "They dress funny!"

"Call them people honey," Sara said nicely, hoping the limo driver hadn't heard. "We have to act normal, 'kay?"

"Okay," Fiona answered, still watching the outside world with wide eyes. "Can I get clothes like that?"

She pointed to a young girl who was wearing a plain, but pretty blue skirt that reached down to her ankles. She wore a simple long sleeved shirt with a light blue denim blazer on top, with a furry white collar. Sara winced when she realized that Fiona was still wearing her test subject clothing from the lab. She so desperately wanted to get Fiona new clothes, and burn the ones she wore now since they were a reminder of her captivity.

"Of course sweetie, in fact, let's go shopping for clothes right now!" she announced cheerfully, to Fiona's joy and the men's groans.

Two hours and probably Chris' pension's worth of money, half the limo was filled with bags from various designer clothing shops. Fiona was now dressed in a pretty knee length black denim skirt with matching black stockings and ballerina-style shoes. She wore a white blouse with a pink jacket that reached only down to her under her chest, but looked oddly nice with the whole setup. Oh, she also wore a training bra and some simple panties as well, but the men didn't need to know that. Of course, all the otaku readers out on FF do, of course. You guys make me sick.

... Anyways.

A hair salon had tidied up Fiona's hair, and trimmed it nicely, but she adamantly refused to have it cut any shorter than it already was. In the end, they trimmed off half a cm of uneven and dead ends and washed and styled it. The braid was let out, and her hair fanned around her back nicely, and a pink bow was tied behind her neck to keep it all managable above the shoulder. She had several butterfly hairclips to keep her bangs and fringe from getting into her eyes as well, and she looked quite pretty. She had some pink lip gloss on her lips and some mascara to emphasize her eyes and stand out from her pale face. She looked quite delicate.

Sara herself had gotten pampered as well, and her hair (which had gone about a year without proper washes) finally shimmered like it used to, although it was a good 2 feet shorter than her school days, resting above her shoulderblades. She had lightly dusted on some makeup as well, enough to look pretty but not garish. She was dressed in an elegant women's business suit for who knew what reason, but she looked good in the royal blue suit.

Dante was wearing one of his generic sleeveless cotton turtlenecks and black jeans, while the other men wore the All-American white t-shirt, blue jeans and Air Force One shoes. Of course, they looked odd with their pistols strapped to their thighs (minus Sara who had hers in a shoulder holster under her suit jacket) but they wore their military badges and medals so the people weren't too alarmed by their appearance.

While the women had gone to get pampered, the men had cruised around the tech shops looking for all the new releases. They each bought several cell phones like Dante's to keep in communication with eachother, and programmed the numbers into each phones. Jack had gone and bought a large stack of HVD (Holo Video Disc) and Blu-Ray DVDs for entertainment purposes (though he made sure to hide the porn from Sara and Fiona) and Dante finally got his PS4O and several games. Fortunetely, it had gone down in price the past 2 years and was only $550USD once converted from GBP.

After that, they pretty much bummed around the food court while the women continued with their pampering, and Dante was hit on by too much teenage girls as they munched on their Burger King.

An example:

"Wow, is your hair naturally white?" one girl asked in a posh, Oxford-style accent. She was currently running her fingers through Dante's long translucent hair as he ignored her as he drank his root beer. "It's sooo soft! And dreamy!"

"So you're American huh?" another girl asked as she squeezed Dante's arm. "Wow, your muscles are huge! And so hard! If I knew they made them like you, I would have moved there a long time ago!"

The girls giggled as Dante cleared his throat. "Sorry, one of a kind," he said shortly before turning back to his fries, eating with his eyes closed as he cursed the plague known as teenage hormones.

"We're in the Army," Jackson explained to one giggly college girl who was clinging onto his arm. He puffed his chest out and flexed his arm as the girl tittered with her friends. "Special Forces, ain't that right Cap?"

"That we are Jackson," Chris said as he leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. "Bad Company, the biggest, baddest muthas this side of the continent."

"Sounds dangerous!" one of the girls, a redhead gushed. All the men shared a knowing look.

"You have no idea," Dante said with a chuckle.

"What do we have here?" a feminine voice called from behind. Dante looked over his shoulder to see a very pretty Sara with a prettier Fiona (sorry, it's her synthetic genes, she can't help it) and the bitchy but still pretty Allison walk up to the group.

"You leave us for two hours and we've been tossed to the lions," Dante said in exasperation as the group of 5 or 6 girls around him giggled.

"Aww, I'm sorry snookums," Sara said in a disgustingly sappy voice as she pecked Dante on the cheek while all the teenagers groaned. Fiona peered curiously at the group of girls.

"Yoo don't look like seesters," she commented, poking a few of them with an odd look.

"Um, no, we're all friends," one of the girls explained with an eyebrow raised. "Who're you?"

"Big brothter's little sister!" Fiona chirped, latching onto Dante's arm as he mentally groaned.

"Oh, she's so cute!" one of the older girls squealed. "How old are you?"

"16."

"No way!"

"No one ever believes me," Fiona pouted.

End freakishly disturbing example

"Next time I'm stabbing one if they come near me," Dante grumbled.

Sara smacked his arm then turned around to mask the look of pain on her face as she rubbed her hand. "Dante!" she scolded shortly after. "Don't be so evil!"

"Can't help it," Dante grumbled as he leaned into the side of the limo, his face pressed against the window. "All that sitting around and clothes shopping has gotten me in a foul mood. I'll explode if I don't kill something or have some fun."

"Some fun eh?" Chris asked as he smoked his cigar. "I think I might have something up your alley."

-----

"Airbike racing?" Dante asked in a bored tone as they watched several sleek airbikes zoom around in the sky. It was nearing dusk and the gloomy London weather was clearing away to warm clear night skies. "I prefer my jets, thank you."

"Aw come on Angel-boy!" Chris whined, dragging the white haired man towards the admission gate. "It's either this or cause an international incident if you kill someone!"

"He's got you there," Sara added.

"You're not helping."

"Can I try?!"

"No flyers under 18."

"She can ride with me."

"Sara, again; not helping!"

"DIBS ON THE YELLOW BIKE!" Sam screamed, bolting towards said Honda with vengeance. Men, women and children scattered out of the crazed black man's way as he launched himself on the winged motorcycle.

Airbikes were a neat invention from the Japanese automarket. They incorporated toned down military hover jets and engines onto existing motorcycle frames with some changes and modifications. The rear section housed the engines and were surrounded by 180 degrees of short strake-like wings that helped steer the bike, which started horizontally all the way down to the bottom, with 5 or 6 strakes in total, depending on the bike. The front was a large air intake for the engine, and housed two strake wings on each side in an X for stabilization. The controls were fairly simple, with the handlebars similar to an airship's fork controls for steering. The pedals at each side controlled altitude. Hoeverbikes were pretty fun to drive around with, and easily affordable hover vehicles. They could take up to 2 passengers max.

Sara shook her head with a sigh as Sam gunned the engine on the Honda with a cackle. He was such a petrol-head, it was mind boggling. She paid her admission for the regular 5 laps and grabbed a pair of helmets for her and Fiona and then let the younger girl choose their ride of choice. Fiona picked a black Yamaha, which looked like it used to be an old YZF-R1. It had red accents and looked fairly wicked.

Chris selected a green (no doubt for its close resemblence to army colors) Honda like Sam's and Jack chose a blue Suzuki. Allison settled for a safe-looking older model Honda and Dante settled onto a blazing red Kawasaki and everyone patiently waited for a few more people to join in.

As soon as the lights turned green, Sam was out of the group like a gunshot, screaming wildly as he floored his bike to its limit, practically halway through the 2 mile track as the others crossed the starting line. Fiona was whooping happily as Sara took her quickly, but safely around the course, ignoring the speed junkies coughSamcough. Chris, Jack and Dante were currently having their own little race against eachother and were shouting out bets against eachother. Allison was cruising behind Sara calmly, filming their little expedition with her camera.

After many, many more laps later (surprisingly, it wasn't Fiona who wanted to stay longer, but Sam) they finally gave it up and headed back to their limo, which was patiently waiting for them. It turned out that the driver was in fact a droid computer that drove the limo to voice commands.

-----

"Hey Angel-boy, what say you to some drinking?" Chris asked, poking his head into Dante's suite. The hotel they had booked into was ridiculously fancy, and they were spared no minor luxury. Dante and Fiona were currently sharing a room since the younger girl vehemently refused to sleep anywhere else but with her big brother. He, Fiona and Sara would most likely end up sharing the king sized bed, but at least this time they would all fit nicely unlike Sara's single on the airship.

Dante looked up from unpacking his clothes from the PD. "No thanks," he said. "I don't like leaving Fiona alone."

"Aw come on D.A.," Chris tried to persuade. "D.A." was another nickname for Dante, it stood for Death Angel. "She's got Sara! You know your girlfriend wouldn't let anything happen to her! Hell, no one here would let anything happen to that sweet lil girl!"

"No thanks," Dante said again. "Alcohol doesn't agree with my body anyways."

Chris blinked. "Oh, well that sucks then," he said. "Oh well, maybe next time then, after the war." He flashed Dante a white smile. "Jack said he's found a nice titty bar on the net, so we're checking it out."

"Old perverted men," Dante's voice trailed out from the bathroom.

"I'll have you know I'm only 36! Jack's 26 and Sam's 28!"

"Young perverted men then."

"Thank you!"

"Just bring your phones in case there's trouble."

Chris scratched his head. "It's a titty bar," he stated bluntly.

"This is London 2017, the Black Mafia owns almost all smutty bars."

"We've got our guns, don't worry about it," Chris grinned. "But we'll carry our phones as well. How fast could you get around the city?"

"2 minutes. 3.75 tops."

-----

"How old are these girls again?" Chris asked as a rather nubile blond (although he could clearly see it wasn't natural) grinded a pole in front of his face. Jack and Sam could only shrug as their beers lay forgotten on their table. "I mean... they don't even jiggle! You know lack of jiggles only means teenagers."

"My girls are all 18 years of age, or older," a rich voice said behind them. They turned around to see a distinguished Englishman wearing a black tuxedo sit down with them. He had an expensive tux, haircut and moustache/goatee trim.

"Good evening gentlemen, I am Nigel Bailey, the propriator of this establishment," he greeted, shaking each man's hand. "Forgive my brashness, but are you policemen?"

Chris and his men burst out into raucous laughter. "Fuck no man, parden meh language," Chris chuckled, wiping a tear from his eye. He gave an informal salute to Nigel. "US Special Forces."

Nigel's face brightened. "Ah, splendid!" he said, clapping his hands. "Enjoy your drinks gentlemen, the next round is on the house. Trixie, entertain these fine servicemen."

The 18 year old (for 3 hours) stripper slid off the stage and joined the men at the table as she chatted them up pleasantly. Jack eventually weaseled a nice lap dance out of her, and they all enjoyed a nice night, or so far.

-----

Dante heard the familiar tone of Sephiroth's song come from the nightstand. Muttering quietly, he expertly removed himself from the tangle of limbs that were Sara and Fiona as he reached for his phone. Pressing it open, he was greeted with the face of the captain.

"Trouble?" he grumbled.

"Yeah," Chris said loudly over what sounded like a bar fight.

"I'll be there soon."

"Mmm, what's up?" Sara asked sleepily, sitting up.

Dante got out of the bed and gave her a kiss on the forehead, one that she relished in its tenderness. "Think about it," he said nonchalently. "Your men, in a bar, drunk with strippers and lowlifes."

She sighed in exasperation. "Go save their asses," she groaned.

"I will," Dante said, checking to make sure his pocket dimension was active. He leaned over and pressed a kiss on Fiona's forehead. "You look after her."

Sara nodded. "With my life," she answered, begging another kiss from Dante. "Good luck, not that you need it."

"Saying it sometimes helps," Dante said just before he jumped out of the window.

Fiona made a soft noise as she awoke from the noise of Dante's descent. "Big brother?" she yawned, rubbing her eyes cutely with the back of her hands.

Sara shushed her and drew the blanket back over the pair. "He's gone to help our idiot soldier boys," she said soothingly. "He'll be back soon."

Fiona yawned again and shut her eyes drowsily. "I can see him," she murmured as she dozed off.

-----

"BRING IT ON BITCHES!" a severely intoxicated Sam roared as he swung a bar stool in each hand around him, forcing several of his attackers to the ground. "I'LL GIVE YA'LL A WHOOPIN' BAD COMPANY STYLE!"

10 minutes earlier...

"Excuse me," a snobby voice said, breaking Trixie from Jack's lapdance. "But that is our regular dancer."

"That's great, you can chat with her later if she wants to," Sam said dissmissively, throwing some chips onto the table as he and Jack played Texas Hold'em.

The snooty Brit scoffed. "I'm afraid you don't understand, she belongs to us," he said silkily.

"Hey man, we're trying to have a good time here, so why don't you piss off you pipe cleaner?" Sam groused as he lost another $40 to Jack.

"Trixie, get over here!" the man commanded. Trixie stopped her flirting with Jack and sullenly made her way over to the dark haired snob.

"Hey man, what the fuck?" Sam snapped, standing up abruptly and causing everyone in the bar to look their way. "What's with the killjoy? You can't wait five fucking minutes you fucking stiff?"

The man and the 10 men around him laughed coldly. "Do you know who I am, boy?"

"Boy?" Sam repeated dangerously. "BOY!? And what do you mean by that?"

"You're over reacting," the man sniffed. "You should learn your place here, this is my playground."

"THAT'S IT!" Sam bellowed, punching the man nearest to him and throwing him onto the stage, and causing the man's flying body to wrap around a pole as the girl who previously occupied it screamed.

As Sam went on his rampage, Jack and Chris sighed into their smokes and beer. Jack tossed his hand onto the table - Queens, Nine - and shrugged at his captain.

"Never a dull moment sir," he said, gettin up off his chair. One of the men stumbled his way and Jack casually smashed his chair onto the man's head, shattering the wood and dropping him to the ground. "COME GET SOME MOTHERFUCKERS!" he screamed before pile-driving the man.

Chris sighed again as he withdrew his holophone. He voice called Dante's phone just as Sam started waving bar stools around and the men started drawing pistols.

"Trouble?" Dante asked.

"Yeah," Chris replied loudly, covering his ear so he could hear the white haired demon.

"I'll be there soon," was all Dante said before he hung up. Chris chuckled to himself as he raised from his seat and drew his SOCOM. A sharp crack to one man's face knocked him out for the count and he trained his gun on the leader's head as six guns were pointed at his. Sam threw his stools away and added his gun to the mix, as did Jack, who was sitting on top of one unconscious man at the moment.

"Seems we have a mighty big misunderstandin," Chris said loudly, reverting back to his old Texan accent. "Now we all jus came here for some drinks and a good evenin, and ya'll seem to be startin something fierce. As an American soldier in allied land, I'm s'posed to be react to this here situation as a diplomat."

Chris cocked the hammer on his USP and the many clicks followed it. "Now, do I have to get diplomatic on ya'll asses or we gonna keep the peace?" he asked.

-----

"I leave you alone for 4 hours and you find yourselves in trouble," Dante grumbled as he made his way through the parting crowd, long blue katana at his side. He stopped in front of one of the British gunmen. "Explain yourselves."

Chris could clearly see that he had put the man into a bad mood, and reminded himself that Dante was a man who could obliterate this entire area if need be. "Just a disagreement Angel-boy," he explained.

"'Ere now, you insulted the boss!" the gunman behind Dante shouted. He raised his gun to aim at Dante's head. "And you lot 'ave got to pay for that!"

Dante didn't even flinch. "Put that toy away or I will kill you."

The man laughed wildly. "'Ere that?" he asked his fellow gunmen. "'Ere that? 'E's gonna kill me 'e said! Wiv a sword! I've got a gun dumbass!"

The man cocked the hammer back and trained the gun dead center at the back of Dante's head.

"I won't warn you... a second time."

"Piss off!"

The man went to squeeze the trigger when Dante's right arm became a blur. In a flash, he unsheathed the sword, and twirled it rapidly behind him several times, going up and down the man's height, making very loud whistles from the sword's blade. He finally twirled it one last time with his thum, and inserted the tip into the man's stomach. He swiftly pulled it back out, and twirled it once in his palm before sliding the blade back into the scabbard in a reverse grip. He paused at the last three inches and waited a moment. A second later, he snapped the rest of the blade in with a loud ching and the man fell apart into several pieces.

"You killed Ernie! You bastard!" another man shouted, pointing his gun at Dante. Dante pressed his thumb against the handguard and extended it powerfully just as the man shot. The sword shot out of the scabbard and deflected the oncoming bullet, sending the sword twirling towards Dante, who caught it in a reverse grip. As the man gawked at him, Dante shot forward in the blink of an eye, pivoting on his left foot as he spun around, cleaving the man clean in half. Not stopping, Dante travelled around the group of gunmen, cutting them into pieces within seconds.

He finally stopped at the other side of the room, his back facing the awed group as he stood there. With a flick, he flung the blood cleanly off the blade of his sword and twirled it once before reaching over his shoulder and sheathing the sword alongside his spine, where he held the scabbard behind him. He closed it again with a loud ching and turned around to face the leader of the group.

"You're Black Mafia," Dante said quietly, walking towards the man, who was 20 feet away.

"Get away from me!" the man screamed, firing once at Dante. Dante unsheathed his sword upwards, before thrusting down in front of him. Two halves of the bullet impact the wall behind him. "You - you aren't human..."

The man fired again and again but Dante either deflected the shots or cut them in half. Finally, he was mere steps away from the man and with a flick of his wrist, he sliced the man's .45 in half and slapped it out of his hands.

Before the man could react, Dante spun the sword in his right hand so that the edge faced upwards and thrust it into the man's stomach. The man's eyes widened in pain as he gurgled blood.

"Yes, I can smell the stench of blood and gunpowder on you," Dante hissed, driving the sword in an inch deeper, making the man trail blood down his jaw. "How old is that girl?" he asked, nodding his head to Trixie. "She can't be a day older than 18. How long has she been working here?"

When the man didn't answer, Dante spun the blade edge to face down, shredding the man's innards in the process, making him moan in pain. He thrust the sword all the way to the hilt in the man's stomach, making him throw up blood.

"She turned 18 today!" he screamed. "Fuck, she's 18 today! She's been working here for 2 years!"

Dante sneered. "You disgust me, ganster filth," he said smoothly. Turning around to face the other way, Dante yanked the sword out of the man, causing a spray of blood to erupt from his stomach. The man gurgled, moaned and cried for a few minutes before lying still on the ground.

Dante turned to the stripper, Trixie. "Leave this place, and get a better life," he ordered her. She nodded fearfully and edged away from him, towards Jack.

The Black Mafia leader apparently wasn't dead. He drew a derringer from his ankle and aimed it at Dante's back, who was several feet away. "Die your freak bastard!"

Before Chris could shoot the man, Dante had turned around, dashed backwards and impaled the man through his forehead with his sword, killing him for good.

"Not before you," Dante whispered, sliding the crimson stained blade out of the man's head. He flicked it to his side, removing the blood before spinning the sword in a figure 8 towards the scabbard, so that the sharp edge now faced upwards so he could sheath it.

Chris chuckled as he walked up to Dante, his SOCOM resting on his shoulders. "You sure had my butthole tight, I tell you what," he said, slapping Dante on the shoulder good naturedly. "You sure are something Angel-boy. Or maybe it's Devil-boy?"

"You know, I did tell you that this was probably a Black Mafia bar," Dante said over his shoulder.

"Yeah, I know that now," Chris said sheepishly.

The resounding echoes of clicks from safeties filled the room. Dante grinned evilly, grasping the hilt of his katana in eager anticipation, taking a wide stance on the floor. He looked around to see pistols, shotguns and SMGs being cocked by customers, the barkeep and strippers.

"Hey, girl," he called over his shoulder. "You should duck."

-----

It was nearly 6 in the morning when the group dragged themselves back to the hotel, heavy one extra. Dante himself was completely coated in blood, while the others weren't much better off, having a few gunshot wounds themselves. The Black Mafia titty bar had been completely decimated with lead and the only survivors were the ones in the elevator heading up to the VIP suites.

"Hey, Devil-boy," Chris said wistfully.

"Captain?"

"I'll fight by your side any day."

Dante grinned, clutching his bloodied sword loosely. "You too."

Sam groaned as he pressed the bar towel to his shoulder. He had been the first one shot. "What do we do with the girl?" he griped, jerking his head towards the unconscious Trixie in Jack's arms. Jack was sporting a nice tunnel in his left thigh and was missing a chunk from his right arm thanks to a ricochet.

Trixie had been caught in the crossfire, she hadn't ducked quickly enough to avoid getting shot in the shoulder, and had dropped instantly. Jack had dragged her behind a table and provided cover for her, but he had taken hits as well.

"Well, we'll get Sara to fix her up and then might as well send her on her way," Chris said. "We can withdraw cash from our cards to get her out of this shithole."

Dante cracked an eye open. "I thought you liked London?"

"Fuck London."

-----

"You... IDIOTS!" Sara exploded for the fifth time as she treated her squad's wounds. Despite their whining, she had patched the young dancer first and left them to suffer for another half hour. "I can't believe you would start shit with the MAFIA! Hello?! You might as well wave a fucking ten foot flag that says, 'HEY GAIA, WE'RE OVER HERE!' you IDIOTS!"

Fiona peeked out from Dante's room as she hid behind the door, forbidden to come in. Dante had changed out of his bloodstained clothes and into fresh ones, since he hadn't even been scratched in combat. He was currently snoozing on the couch, though an occassional snicker could be heard from his direction as Sara tore into her men.

"I agree," Allison said primly as she wrinkled her nose at Sam. She was tying his bandage around his shoulder and chest. "You guys at Grade-A cut, dumbshits."

"That little bastard got into my face," Sam sulked, wincing as Allison overtightened his bandage on purpose.

"Never again!" Sara declared. "How are we supposed to save the worlds if you idiots get into a fight at every bar you go to?! This better not show up on the news!"

"Don't worry," Dante called from his chair. "It looks like a gang war in there. Bullet holes all round. They'll think it was just an inter-gang dispute."

Sara rounded back on Chris. "And YOU!" she fumed, jabbing her finger at Chris, who was thinking it was a sword at the moment, "bring Dante into this! If anyone survived and reported about him, then we're done! Next time, fix your own damn problems without falling back on his super powers!"

"I'm so touched," Dante drawled as he reclined the La-Z-Boy.

"Oww, my shoulder," the stripper moaned as she came back into consciousness. Sara hurried over to her, ignoring Chris' moan from lack of finishing his dressing.

"Open your eyes," she said soothingly, pulling out a pocket light. "Follow the light. That's good. How many fingers am I holding up."

"Two and a thumb?" the girl answered groggily.

Sara grinned. "Sharp one you found Jack, I'm surprised," she complimented. Jack shrugged. "Isn't she a bit young for you?"

"They're always too young for me mom," Jack muttered sarcastically as he pressed the ice pack to his black eye. "Dammit, I'm not a pedophile you know."

"Damn close," Sam muttered.

"Where am I?" Trixie suddenly asked, looking around wildly. "What happened?"

"Bar fight," Jack called lazily. "You got shot."

Trixie lay back down as she remembered. "That's right," she murmured. "That scary man with the sword..."

"Am I really that scary?" Dante wondered.

"You cut 10 people into bite-sized pieces 2 hours ago, what the hell kind of question is that?" Chris asked dubiously.

Dante shrugged. "Just making sure I've still got it," he droned. Fiona couldn't stay out any longer and she padded into the living room and curled onto Dante lap.

"Are yoo okay big brother?" she asked worriedly. "I saw the fight at the dirty place..."

"You what?" Dante asked, roused from his snooze. "Oh yeah... that... I wish you didn't see it..."

Fiona smiled cheerily. "I've seen big seesters do worse," she chirped. She snuggled into Dante's chest and turned her wide violet eyes on Trixie.

"She is scared," Fiona declared in a sad voice. "She has novhere to go and he family. Her mother vas violated by her father. Her father killed her mother. She vas sent to a snuff film man who made her do dirty things vith other children. Her father sold her to the bad men to dance. Big brother killed her father tonight. She vants to run avay. She doesn't know how I am doing this. She -"

"STOP IT, JUST STOP IT!" Trixie shrieked, covering her ears with her hands. "Make her stop," she sobbed, burying her face into Sara's shoulder.

Dante pressed a hand onto Fiona's back and the young girl quieted. "I'm sorry, she can't really control herself," he said to Trixie.

"It's true," Trixie sniffled from Sara's shoulder. "I - I don't have anywhere to go."

"We can give you money, lots of it," Jack said quickly. "You can move away, go anywhere you want, go to school and get a good job."

In a small voice, Trixie asked, "Can't I go with you?"

Everyone glanced at eachother several times. Finally, they all looked towards Dante, who was still sprawled out on the chair with Fiona. He met their eyes and groaned inwardly.

"Trixie," he called. "What do you know about the American Gaia M. companies?"

Should Trixie join Bad Company???

Should they send Trixie off somewhere???

Is Dante getting more human???

Will Jack EVER get his poon?!?

Vote, for the next chapter of Part of Me!!!