Hullo! This is kelvin here, a couple of months back,
KingKiller consented to me writing an Into the Shadows fic,
and this is the product. please tell us what you think!
Email c and c to lynch@surfshop.net.ph
Brief Background info: Ranma is Yakuza. Enough said.
Previous parts found at :
http://members.surfshop.net.ph/~lynch
LeeKing Works Proudly Presents:
A Glimpse into the Shadows:
Payment
By Kelvin �Lynch� Lee
Mercy is for the weak, and I am not weak.
-- The Wild Stallion
The white limousine moved slowly, almost languidly across
the dark highway. Its windows were tinted heavily. One could
not see inside, nor even peek through such dark glass. And
if you did peek without permission into this
particular vehicle, you would most probably be dead.
It was night, around midnight and the full moon was shining
in all its splendor, its bright glow illuminating the limo
as it sped towards its destination.
A dog howled in the darkness, a salute to not only the
beauty of the moon, but also to the passenger of the
limousine, a fellow creature of the wild.
Animals could sense these things that normal men cannot.
Inside the luxurious vehicle, a young fellow with a long
braided pigtail hanging down to his chest, was leaning back
on his seat, relaxed, yet poised. He was dressed in a white
suit, a very expensive looking white suit for that matter,
which fit him rather snugly, showing off his fit figure-
his broad chest, long tapering legs and muscular arms.
He was a dashing figure, and had the look of a lady-killer
which was further emphasized by the red rose at his lapel.
Add to that the rather shiny gold watch and the
expensive looking black leather shoes, and you had someone
who was out for a night on the town. Or so he looked like he
was.
The fellow was idly fingering his pigtail while he looked
out the tinted window. Calm and seemingly unperturbed.
In front, the driver was sneaking odd looks at his
passenger, sometimes he quivered, as trepidation filled his
every being.
Arriving at their destination, the driver stopped the car,
turned off the engine and looked behind him, towards the man
in white.
"We're here." He said in a tremor filled voice.
"Oh?" replied the man in white. He dropped his pigtail, and
then leaned forward to pick up his umbrella. He peeked into
a mirror and fixed himself up a bit, even going so far as to
grin just to see his reflection. He looked perfect. He
adjusted his lapel one last time, before reaching for the
door.
"Wait a sec."
The man in the white suit stops and looked at the driver
with a questioning gaze.
"You sure you ain't bringing a piece?" Stammered out the
driver.
He shook his head.
The driver sighed.
"Your funeral. Good luck Ranma."
Ranma flashed his million dollar smile, opened the car door
and stepped out.
Across the street was the target, one of the newest
nightclubs in the city. It was rather garish, with neon
lights almost blinding anyone who looked directly at the
places sign, but that didn't detract from its popularity.
Not at all. After all, who wouldn't want to go to the
Midnight club?
In fact, the front was crowded with a large throng, all
clamoring to get inside the hottest nightspot ever. The only
thing keeping them from just charging in was the phalanx of
burly, heavily muscled men dressed in plain black shirts.
They, were obviously, the bouncers.
Ranma grinned.
Behind him, the eager howl of a dog filled the night.
The hunt was on.
******
He strode up towards the entrance with a light gait, a
spring in his step, twirling his umbrella all the way. Ranma
stopped just before the throng, tucking in the umbrella
under the crook of his arm, he flowed his way between them,
the crush of the pressing bodies seemingly unaffecting him,
he just bobbed and weaved his way through. Reaching the huge
twin doors, the entrance to the club, he was about to step
in, when a bouncer got in front of him, barring his way.
The bouncer looked him over with a critical eye, assessing
his capabilities. Unsmiling, the bouncer asked for his
"invitation."
Never dropping his smile, Ranma responded with a "Sure!" and
flashed a couple of Thousand yen bills.
A minute later, Ranma was inside, while the bouncer was
counting his money, licking his lips the whole time.
The moment Ranma stepped inside the club, he was assailed by
the pungent smell of sweat, tears, beer and cigarette smoke
all mixed up as one in a place that was obviously not
designed to handle so many bodies. Combine the smell with
music being played several decibels too loudly, and lack of
lights save for the rotating flashes of the disco balls and
you had the average nightclub. Except that this particular
nightclub was in another society�s territory.
One quick glance at the interior and you could tell that
the club had probably broken several city ordinances
already- there seemed to be no fire exits, and there were
far too many people inside, far more than could be safely
accommodated in the case of an emergency. Obviously the work
of money greasing the right palms of the right people in
this beautiful government that they had.
Knowing that he was on a tight schedule, he slipped his way
through the mass of bodies and went for the bar. He saw a
man sitting alone on a stool. He was a big and hefty man,
very brawny and had the look of a body-builder. Combine that
with a face that seemed to have been broken more than once
before, and you had someone most people would have chosen
not to deal with. Ranma just strode up to him, keeping his
umbrella near him, and tapped him on the shoulder.
The big man turned around. The first words out of his mouth,
which he had to shout out due to the din of the music, was
�What do you want shrimp?�
Ranma�s face curled up from the smell of the man�s fetid
breath. �You�re on my seat.� he replied respectfully,
although his face was still crunched up. Man oh man, didn�t
the guy ever hear about mouthwash?
�So?� The fellow haughtily replied, taking a long swig from
a bottle of beer in his hand.
Ranma�s face tightened, and he just looked at him in the
eye.
The man left the bar in a hurry.
Taking his seat at the bar, Ranma motioned for the bartender
and when he arrived, he asked for a glass of milk. The
bartender looked at him with a questioningly humorous look.
Ranma just looked at him. �What�s so bad about milk? It�s
good for you.�
He got his milk a second later.
As the bartender tremblingly leaned over to hand him the
drink, Ranma got a hold of his tie and pulled him near, �til
their noses were just about to touch. He looked at him
meaningfully in the eye and whispered into his ear. The
bartender jerked back, surprise on his face. Ranma let go
and the bartender stumbled, knocking over a couple of
glasses behind him, but the bartender wasn�t paying
attention to that. He was looking at Ranma with wide,
fear-stricken eyes, before scurrying into the backroom.
Ranma smirked as he picked up his milk and took a sip.
Shouldn�t be long now.
Abruptly, the music stopped and the lights went on, and
there was soon a loud chorus of complaints from the
customers. Some couples had to disengage from whatever it
was they were doing in the dark, the women usually blushing
and the men cursing their luck, while they fixed their
clothes.
There was an announcement a moment later.
�Ladies and Gentlemen, we regret to inform you that due to
circumstances beyond our control, the Midnight Club has to
close early tonight. We apologize for any convenience that
we may have caused you. Please leave through the marked
exits, and we hope to see you tomorrow. �
There was an even larger chorus of complaints at that
announcement, but the presence of the bouncers and several
rough-looking men in dark suits who came from the backroom
silenced the complaints fairly quickly. It didn�t take long
for the crowd to disperse and head for the exits. Sullen
glares or would-be complainants, some of whom seemed about
to stride up to the emcee to complain, were silenced and
quickly ushered out by the bar�s personnel.
Ranma didn�t move, simply sitting down and sipping his drink
calmly, occasionally wiping away the mustache that the milk
would leave under his nose. He took no notice of the fact
that, once all the customers had left and the entrance to
the club been securely locked, the bouncers and the other
thugs surrounded him from every direction.
All told there were around 12 of them, the bouncers were
mainly big and heavily muscled men, while some of the other
thugs ranged from being boulder-large, wide and
tough-looking, to being slender and wire thin. They all had
the look of hard men, of being people who had been in a
brawl or two, and had been the ones doing the thrashing.
They obviously thought that they had the upper hand.
Ranma never stirred, just kept drinking his milk and idly
twirling his umbrella.
>From the backroom, came a fat seedy-looking man accompanied
by the bartender. The fat man was dressed in an extremely
expensive suit, which only made him seem quite�. garish, as
if he was trying to hide his bulk in utter desperation. He
was shaped like a potato sack, yet moved lightly enough on
his feet despite his size. The bartender pointed tremblingly
at Ranma. �Tha- That�s him!� He managed to stammer out.
The fat man looked at Ranma and snorted. �So you think to
threaten me? In my territory?�
�Good day Mr. Makoto. I was sent by Mr. Hojo, my Boss, who
only wants the money you owe him.� Ranma replied levelly,
his voice betraying no sign of fear or agitation. �You would
of course know, what would happen if you were to refuse
payment.�
�You got a lot of balls kid. Tell your Boss he can�t hurt
me. I got connections, and about as many troops as he does.�
Mr. Makoto said, indicating the people around him. �He tries
anything, and I will personally have his ass delivered to me
on a silver plate.�
Ranma stopped twirling his umbrella, and stared at the fat
man with a look that was a portent of death. The fat man was
taken aback, and took a step away from him.
Ranma tried again. �For your sake, and the sake of your men�
s lives, I ask you to reconsider.�
The fat man hesitated before answering. �Go to hell kid!
Hojo will get the message when I deliver your broken,
bleeding body to his doorstep! Take him!� He signaled to
his men and two of them rushed forward.
Ranma reacted instantly, throwing the glass of milk into the
face of the first attacker so hard that it shattered, white
milk and red blood mixing together. Ranma dodged the other
one�s punch, slipped by him, grabbed his hair and slammed
him face first into the bar counter, which shattered under
the impact. Whirling, Ranma finished off the one he struck
in the face with the milk glass with a solid blow from his
umbrella.
All this happened in the space of a few seconds.
The rest of Makoto�s thugs were stunned. Even the fat man
himself had a look of complete shock on his face. A look
that was slowly transforming into fear.
Ranma shrugged, as if saying that they had brought it on
themselves. He squared his shoulders, and, resting on the
balls of his feet, ready to strike anywhere, he pointed
towards Mr. Makoto with his umbrella. �You shouldn�t have
done that.�
Flabbergasted, Makoto lashed out with his voice. �Get him!
Take him down you fools! What am I paying you for!? He�s
only one man!�
Remembering that simple fact, that despite the loss of two
of their number, they still outnumbered him ten to one, the
thugs recovered from their stupor and attacked. Many of them
were armed with a chair, or beer bottles broken on tables,
others came at Ranma with brass knuckles on their fists,
still others with knives.
The next few moments were chaos.
Ranma darted forward, surprising the thugs, who had expected
him to go defensive.
That moment of surprise was enough for Ranma. Using his
umbrella, he stabbed at the solar plexus area of the nearest
thug, knocking the breath from him. He kicked the knife out
of the grip of the next one, and knocked him down with a
slash with the umbrella to his neck. A quick roundhouse took
another on the side of his head, while Ranma�s hand, poised
like a knife, struck at the throat of the next thug. As he
went down gurgling, Ranma slipped by him, and with a strong
upwards slash with his umbrella, broke the jaw of the
bouncer that was behind him. From one to the next, without
stopping, as if it was all seemingly one smooth motion,
Ranma fought, and whenever he struck, men went down.
Despite the sheer weight of numbers of his opponents, Ranma
fought with all his speed, skill and strength- striking
perfectly timed blows, lashing out with powerful kicks and
using his umbrella to good advantage to either block or
attack. He was impossibly successful at dropping his
adversaries.
In moments, most of the men were down. Their bodies were
arrayed around Ranma, who stood in the midst of them, hand
in his pocket, while he idly tapped the umbrella on his
shoulder. Moans and groans of pain could be heard even
outside the club, that was how massive the damage that Ranma
had done was.
Two of the thugs still stood though, they had backed away
and drawn guns, both of which were now pointed nervously at
Ranma, who was once again languidly twirling his umbrella.
There was some blood on Ranma�s immaculately white suit,
which he was trying to wipe away unsuccessfully with his
handkerchief. None of the blood was his.
�I really liked this suit.� He sighed, taking no notice of
the guns aimed at him, as if they were unimportant.
Unable to take anymore, one of the thugs fired off a shot.
Ranma�s umbrella swung, with timing so perfect, that it
struck and deflected the bullet that had been headed for
him. The bullet�s trajectory now changed, it hit the other
man with the gun on the forehead, killing him instantly.
Makoto started to run towards the exit, the bartender had
long fled. Makoto was obviously fearful for his life. His
lone remaining enforcer looked incredulously at the body of
his dead compatriot. Not giving him a chance to recover,
Ranma jumped at him, broke his arm, knocked him down with a
sweep and took his gun. Spinning towards the general area of
the running fat man, he squeezed off two shots. One for each
leg.
Makoto went down screaming. Blood smeared his pants. His
shrieks were incoherent, a mixture of pain and fear. His
screams soon dwindled into pathetic whimpers.
The man at Ranma�s feet took out a knife and tried to stab
him in a last ditch effort. Ranma calmly shot him in the
head, between the eyes, and dropped the gun at his feet.
He walked towards Makoto, his footsteps and the tapping of
his umbrella as he used it as a walking stick made an odd
accompaniment to the symphony of moans and screams within
the club.
Reaching Makoto, he grabbed him by the hair, forcing him to
look Ranma in the eye. His gaze made Makoto stop whimpering.
He was transfixed. Ranma�s eyes held him with a promise of
death. He knew he was doomed.
Makoto didn�t stop screaming for a long time.
*****
Stepping out of the club, Ranma calmly walked out and headed
for the limousine that awaited him across the street. There
was a strong stink of gasoline emanating from the interior
of the club. Reaching the limo, he opened the door and took
out a bottle stuffed with cloth. It was something terrorists
had dubbed as a �Molotov cocktail.�
Ranma searched his pockets, and cursed. He turned towards
the driver. �You wouldn�t happen to have a lighter on you,
would you?�
The driver wordlessly handed one to him.
�Thanks.� Said Ranma as he closed the door and headed for
the entrance of the club again.
Reaching the club doors, which he had left open, his face
twisted from the stench of gasoline. He flicked the lighter
open, and lit up the cocktail.
�Consider this payment in full Mr. Makoto.� Ranma announced
quietly.
He threw the bottle inside.
The explosion rocked the entire neighborhood. What was once
the club had now become a stark conflagration of flames and
smoke. The fires that held the club stabbed at the sky and
the smoke was thick enough to shroud even the moon.
By the time the police arrived, Ranma was long gone.
END
Epilogue:
Ah, nothing like coming home after a hard night�s work,
thought Ranma as he entered his condominium. Except sex
maybe, he thought wryly, a grin blossoming on his face.
�I�m home!� Said Ranma as he took off his blood-soaked
clothes, revealing the kevlar vest underneath. Throwing the
bloody clothes into the trash, he also took off the vest,
placing it carefully on a counter near the door.
�Ah! Where have you been?� asked a naked buxom
lavender-haired girl as she jumped him, bringing him into a
deep hug and an even deeper kiss. They came up for air after
a few minutes, giving Ranma a chance to reply to her
question. He gave her a rakish grin.
�I just had to collect some payments.�
Really the end this time. ^_^
==
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