GW: Huntress, part 2
One hour ago...
Three knocks, and the viewing slit slid open. Dark eyes peered out at her, questioning, judging.
She smiled sweetly.
"I'm Ms. Amaretto," she said, "I think you're expecting me."
There was a grunt, and the slit snapped shut. The loud squealing of steel on steel, pierced Yoshiko's ears, and the door swung open.
Okay, she thought, absently patting the burly man at the door on the arm as she entered, so the password I got was right. Now to find my boy.
Yoshiko's eyes scanned the smoky club. It was exactly the element she'd expected -- leather-clad lowlifes of all kind were scattered about the place, some lounging, some dancing, some doing... other things.
Yoshiko's attention was being drawn to a particularly vigorous couple when out of the corner of her eye she spotted her quarry. He was surrounded by the thickest cloud of smoke in the club, but she could make out a hint of dirty blonde hair and black leather clothing. As she moved closer, he became substantially more visible -- a gritty-looking man in his mid-thirties, with a beard that matched his dirty blonde hair, and a fashion sense that screamed "biker". He was laughing at his own jokes, lounging on a leather couch with women who laughed along with him. Yoshiko strode straight across the club, and stepped up onto the table before him.
"Mister De La Coeur," she purred, looking down at him, "I believe we have something to talk about."
His eyes trailed up from her feet, drinking her body in like a man who was dying of thirst.
"And, what, pray tell," he said, with a light Cajun accent, "might we have to talk about, cherie?"
"Oh, you know," said Yoshiko, stepping onto the couch and lowering herself onto his lap, "things."
"Like what, exactly?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with interest.
"Secrets," she said, unzipping her leather jumpsuit low enough to show off her blue silk bra, and leaning into him, "you do like secrets, don't you Mister De La Coeur?"
"Indeed I do, chere," he said, licking his lips, "and please. Call me Bartholomew."
"Okay then," she said, sliding a hand down his chest, "Bartholomew, sweetie... do you think we could get some privacy?"
He smiled, and waved the girls at his sides away.
"Here we are then, chere," he said, "just the two of us. Now, what kinda secrets are you interested in sharin'?"
"Oh," she said, sliding a hand into his pants, "just the usual... Bart."
For an instant, Bart grinned widely -- then his mouth snapped shut and his eyes went wide.
"Do I have your attention now, asshole?" asked Yoshiko, still smiling sweetly.
Bart nodded mutely.
"Good, good," she replied, "now, I'm going to ask you a question. Keep in mind that with a quick twist and a sharp tug, you'll be singing castrato for the rest of your life. All kinds of dirty business in this town goes through you, Bart. What I'm looking for is information on an impersonator. Probably hired some time last week, to one short, simple, but crucially important job. I want to know who hired somebody to mimic the voice of Akodo Rokku. Think hard, but don't take too long to answer!"
"I, I don't know who did the hiring," said Bart. Yoshiko squeezed tighter.
"I swear!" he yelped, "It was all anonymous! But I can tell you who I put them in contact with! He might know who they were!"
"Who was it," asked Yoshiko, twisting, "who did the job?"
"Him!" shrieked Bart, pointing towards the bar.
Yoshiko turned and caught sight of a figure in black leather rising from his stool and bolting for the door.
Quickly, Yoshiko wiped her hand off on Bart's shirt, and then coldcocked him for good measure, before getting off of him and giving chase.
The club's patrons watched on in confusion as the lady in white flew across the room -- only to run straight into the door guard.
"We don't like people making trouble here," he said, scowling down at her.
"Get out of my way," she said, "and there won't be any trouble here."
The burly man looked at the petite woman in front of him, and couldn't help but laugh.
Unfortunately for him, that left him wide open for a sharp knee to the stomach. As the guard doubled over, Yoshiko connected with a sharp kick to his jaw, and shoved him out of her way. The behemoth crumpled to the floor as Yoshiko swung the door open and darted out.
But the man was nowhere to be seen. Yoshiko cursed under her breath -- until she heard the roar of a motorcycle engine. With bare instants to spare, Yoshiko ducked, as a katana sliced through the air where her head had been.
A katana held by a man in black. With his helmet obscuring his features, the man squealed to a stop at the end of the alley, and saluted the Silken Crane. Immediately, Yoshiko leapt onto her own bike and brought it to life, snapping her helmet into place just as he shot out onto the street.
Yoshiko rocketed out of the alley to give chase, as lightning split the skies and the rain began to fall.
***
Now.
In a flash of lightning, steel left saya, blades crashing into each other as the two knights met.
They sailed past each other, and the white knight turned for another pass...
Only to see the black knight lying in the street, clutching a broken sword, and the severed handlebars of his mount.
Scowling beneath her helm, the white knight rode up to her fallen opponent, dismounting and pressing the tip of her blade into his chest. With her free hand, she pulled off her helmet and threw it aside.
"Okay, asshole," Yoshiko said, "I've spent days hunting you down, then chased you all over half the city in the middle of a storm -- now you're going to tell me who hired you to fuck with my life, or I'm going to put four feet of steel through your chest!"
"Come on now Crane," said the man in black, "we both know you don't have that in you."
Yoshiko's eyes widened. She knew that voice. With a sharp kick, she sent the man's helmet flying off of his head.
And saw the last thing she wanted to see.
"Itoju," she said coldly, staring into his eyes, "why, Scorpion? Why would you do this to your friends?!"
"Come on!" spat the Shadow Scorpion, "You abandoned us, Crane! Seven Thunders might have been able to keep Genbu in checkbut not five! It wasn't long after the little visit you and the Lion paid to Tokyo in December that Genbu tore us apart. He attacked our families, our friends, and our very lives! None of the Thunders can work anywhere in Japan any more, Yoshiko. We were destroyed. And all because of the two of you!"
"Damn it, Itoju," Yoshiko shouted, "you could have called us! We could have--"
"What," Itoju laughed, "helped us? Please. You and the Lion were too busy living your little American fantasies. Your perfect little lives. Well, they're not so perfect any more, are they?"
Yoshiko's expression hardened, and she raised her blade's tip to Itoju's throat.
"Who hired you, Itoju," she said, her voice torn with grief, "tell me, or so help me, you'll find out exactly what I do have in me."
"Who the hell do you think?" Itoju spat, "the services of a villain like me don't come cheaply. My paychecks were signed with three little letters."
"Three letters..." Yoshiko felt a blackness growing in the pit of her stomach. A feeling she detested, but couldn't drive away. Fear.
There was only one organization that would want to hurt her, to hurt Rokku, and could also afford Itoju's talents.
Three little letters.
"T.U.E." said Itoju, smiling, "and they're going to tear you and the Lion apart, princess. I guarantee it."
Yoshiko's boot collided with Itoju's temple, putting a stop to any further gloating. Slowly, she pulled her sword away from his jugular, and returned it to its sheathe.
Minutes later, she was barreling down the highway again, headed for home. She knew she didn't have enough to prove to Rokku what was going on yet -- but she would, soon. And she knew just whom she was going to have to call...
Three knocks, and the viewing slit slid open. Dark eyes peered out at her, questioning, judging.
She smiled sweetly.
"I'm Ms. Amaretto," she said, "I think you're expecting me."
There was a grunt, and the slit snapped shut. The loud squealing of steel on steel, pierced Yoshiko's ears, and the door swung open.
Okay, she thought, absently patting the burly man at the door on the arm as she entered, so the password I got was right. Now to find my boy.
Yoshiko's eyes scanned the smoky club. It was exactly the element she'd expected -- leather-clad lowlifes of all kind were scattered about the place, some lounging, some dancing, some doing... other things.
Yoshiko's attention was being drawn to a particularly vigorous couple when out of the corner of her eye she spotted her quarry. He was surrounded by the thickest cloud of smoke in the club, but she could make out a hint of dirty blonde hair and black leather clothing. As she moved closer, he became substantially more visible -- a gritty-looking man in his mid-thirties, with a beard that matched his dirty blonde hair, and a fashion sense that screamed "biker". He was laughing at his own jokes, lounging on a leather couch with women who laughed along with him. Yoshiko strode straight across the club, and stepped up onto the table before him.
"Mister De La Coeur," she purred, looking down at him, "I believe we have something to talk about."
His eyes trailed up from her feet, drinking her body in like a man who was dying of thirst.
"And, what, pray tell," he said, with a light Cajun accent, "might we have to talk about, cherie?"
"Oh, you know," said Yoshiko, stepping onto the couch and lowering herself onto his lap, "things."
"Like what, exactly?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with interest.
"Secrets," she said, unzipping her leather jumpsuit low enough to show off her blue silk bra, and leaning into him, "you do like secrets, don't you Mister De La Coeur?"
"Indeed I do, chere," he said, licking his lips, "and please. Call me Bartholomew."
"Okay then," she said, sliding a hand down his chest, "Bartholomew, sweetie... do you think we could get some privacy?"
He smiled, and waved the girls at his sides away.
"Here we are then, chere," he said, "just the two of us. Now, what kinda secrets are you interested in sharin'?"
"Oh," she said, sliding a hand into his pants, "just the usual... Bart."
For an instant, Bart grinned widely -- then his mouth snapped shut and his eyes went wide.
"Do I have your attention now, asshole?" asked Yoshiko, still smiling sweetly.
Bart nodded mutely.
"Good, good," she replied, "now, I'm going to ask you a question. Keep in mind that with a quick twist and a sharp tug, you'll be singing castrato for the rest of your life. All kinds of dirty business in this town goes through you, Bart. What I'm looking for is information on an impersonator. Probably hired some time last week, to one short, simple, but crucially important job. I want to know who hired somebody to mimic the voice of Akodo Rokku. Think hard, but don't take too long to answer!"
"I, I don't know who did the hiring," said Bart. Yoshiko squeezed tighter.
"I swear!" he yelped, "It was all anonymous! But I can tell you who I put them in contact with! He might know who they were!"
"Who was it," asked Yoshiko, twisting, "who did the job?"
"Him!" shrieked Bart, pointing towards the bar.
Yoshiko turned and caught sight of a figure in black leather rising from his stool and bolting for the door.
Quickly, Yoshiko wiped her hand off on Bart's shirt, and then coldcocked him for good measure, before getting off of him and giving chase.
The club's patrons watched on in confusion as the lady in white flew across the room -- only to run straight into the door guard.
"We don't like people making trouble here," he said, scowling down at her.
"Get out of my way," she said, "and there won't be any trouble here."
The burly man looked at the petite woman in front of him, and couldn't help but laugh.
Unfortunately for him, that left him wide open for a sharp knee to the stomach. As the guard doubled over, Yoshiko connected with a sharp kick to his jaw, and shoved him out of her way. The behemoth crumpled to the floor as Yoshiko swung the door open and darted out.
But the man was nowhere to be seen. Yoshiko cursed under her breath -- until she heard the roar of a motorcycle engine. With bare instants to spare, Yoshiko ducked, as a katana sliced through the air where her head had been.
A katana held by a man in black. With his helmet obscuring his features, the man squealed to a stop at the end of the alley, and saluted the Silken Crane. Immediately, Yoshiko leapt onto her own bike and brought it to life, snapping her helmet into place just as he shot out onto the street.
Yoshiko rocketed out of the alley to give chase, as lightning split the skies and the rain began to fall.
***
Now.
In a flash of lightning, steel left saya, blades crashing into each other as the two knights met.
They sailed past each other, and the white knight turned for another pass...
Only to see the black knight lying in the street, clutching a broken sword, and the severed handlebars of his mount.
Scowling beneath her helm, the white knight rode up to her fallen opponent, dismounting and pressing the tip of her blade into his chest. With her free hand, she pulled off her helmet and threw it aside.
"Okay, asshole," Yoshiko said, "I've spent days hunting you down, then chased you all over half the city in the middle of a storm -- now you're going to tell me who hired you to fuck with my life, or I'm going to put four feet of steel through your chest!"
"Come on now Crane," said the man in black, "we both know you don't have that in you."
Yoshiko's eyes widened. She knew that voice. With a sharp kick, she sent the man's helmet flying off of his head.
And saw the last thing she wanted to see.
"Itoju," she said coldly, staring into his eyes, "why, Scorpion? Why would you do this to your friends?!"
"Come on!" spat the Shadow Scorpion, "You abandoned us, Crane! Seven Thunders might have been able to keep Genbu in checkbut not five! It wasn't long after the little visit you and the Lion paid to Tokyo in December that Genbu tore us apart. He attacked our families, our friends, and our very lives! None of the Thunders can work anywhere in Japan any more, Yoshiko. We were destroyed. And all because of the two of you!"
"Damn it, Itoju," Yoshiko shouted, "you could have called us! We could have--"
"What," Itoju laughed, "helped us? Please. You and the Lion were too busy living your little American fantasies. Your perfect little lives. Well, they're not so perfect any more, are they?"
Yoshiko's expression hardened, and she raised her blade's tip to Itoju's throat.
"Who hired you, Itoju," she said, her voice torn with grief, "tell me, or so help me, you'll find out exactly what I do have in me."
"Who the hell do you think?" Itoju spat, "the services of a villain like me don't come cheaply. My paychecks were signed with three little letters."
"Three letters..." Yoshiko felt a blackness growing in the pit of her stomach. A feeling she detested, but couldn't drive away. Fear.
There was only one organization that would want to hurt her, to hurt Rokku, and could also afford Itoju's talents.
Three little letters.
"T.U.E." said Itoju, smiling, "and they're going to tear you and the Lion apart, princess. I guarantee it."
Yoshiko's boot collided with Itoju's temple, putting a stop to any further gloating. Slowly, she pulled her sword away from his jugular, and returned it to its sheathe.
Minutes later, she was barreling down the highway again, headed for home. She knew she didn't have enough to prove to Rokku what was going on yet -- but she would, soon. And she knew just whom she was going to have to call...