======================================
"Looks like we got a doozy here, chief," Akira said to the man
across the desk. Detective Soichiro Otonashi (Homicide) leaned back in his
swivelling chair, re-reading the two casefiles brought to his attention that
morning.
"Yep," he said noncomittally. "Any thoughts?" Akira had a good head
on his shoulders, and a knack for spotting the odd details. Not bad for a
kid on the force for a couple of years.
"About the hit on those jackheads? Typical yak hit. No way we'll
ever find the triggermen." The Yakuza had gotten much less subtle over the
years, especially when dealing with jackheads who peddled their stuff in a
narawabi without giving a cut to the oyabun. They only maintianed their
facade of civility on the surface
"How about the tearoom?" That was the real mystery. While the hit in
the slums was commonplace in this day and age, such a brutal and savage
murder as this was nearly unheard of.
"Some right weird shit," Akira replied. "They found they guy's
genitals stuffed in his mouth. At least he bled to death first."
Soichiro nodded in reply, recalling the wholly unnecessary autopsy
report. How the man had died had been pretty obvious.
"Gensao Fukamachi."
"Yakuza troubleshooter," Akira said. "Frequented Aunt Susie Cho's a
lot. His favorite hostess was a girl named Miyu. They found her tied up in
the closet with a few of her own belts. Took a nasty knock on the head, but
she'll recover."
"Whoever this was killed Gensao, spared the prostitute, and painted
some bird shape on the wall with the yak's own blood," Soichiro muttered,
trying to piece the grisly puzzle together. "What's the connection? Why not
kill the hooker?"
"Why risk leaving a witness?" Akira asked. "You got me, but it's
obvious that she wasn't a big deal to this guy."
"What about the bird?"
"I got Kaneda down in Special Investigations looking into it," Akira
answered. "He's pretty good with this occult stuff. If it means anything,
he'll dredge it up."
"Forensics found some good prints on the knife, and the light
switch," Soichiro said. "So far, nothing on file. Akira, I want you to look
in all the databases for a match."
"Yes, sir."
"Maybe one of the other departments has something. In the meantime,
let's just hope this isn't some damn serial. That's the last thing we need."
Soichiro shuddered in memory of the last serial killer he had to
huntvdown, a whackjob by the name of Raizo Tanaka, who had a penchant for
the female population of Furinkan High. The media had dubbed him the Nerima
Slasher, and the name was more than apt. He had been a tough one, and
Soichiro had only caught him by sheer dumb luck and possibly some help from
above. He greatly hoped this latest case wouldn't end up to be like the other.
========================================
She stood in front of the full-length mirror, studying her
reflection in the polished glass. Coal black hair trailed down her back in a
tight braid, not so much as a single hair straying from the tail. Her pale
flesh was taut and firm, pert breasts curving gracefully from her chest. A
delicate face stared back at her from the mirror, eyes the color of deep
violet locking on her own.
Kodachi Kuno truly admired her figure, taking great pains to keep it
shapely and firm. She sometimes spent hours at a time staring at her nude
reflection in the mirror, searching for any signs of imperfection. After
all, a woman as regal as herself could not afford to be anything less than
the best.
She turned away from the mirror, sated for the time being. The
dreams had been taking their toll lately, leaving her shaking in cold sweats
in the dead of night. She could never fully recall them, but she felt that
she was on the verge of something terrifying, yet hauntingly familiar. Oh,
well, it was of no consequence. The Black Rose was not so easily shaken by
things that went bump in the night.
Kodachi pushed the dreams out of her mind, focusing instead on the
task at hand. She had been keeping her pet waiting for too long. Still nude,
she strode across the ornate bedchamber to the west wall. She stopped just
short of the wall, a milky white arm reaching out to touch a certain spot on
the mahogany-colored surface. A section of the wall rose silently into the
ceiling, granting access to the dimly lit chamber beyond.
Shadows filled the cramped interior, lending the illusion of space
where there were only meter-thick walls. Kodachi eyed her pet critically as
she circled, bare feet slapping softly against the cool floor.
Her pet's chestnut hair hung limp and lifeless in what had once been
a stylish pageboy cut. Welts and bruises discolored the skin, strips of red
mingling with patches of yellowish-black. The arms were suspended above the
head, feet barely able to touch the floor.
Kodachi stopped before her pet, picking up the leather crop that
rested at her feet. The pet's eyes were shut, breath coming slightly
irregular through the nose. The past two weeks had been rough on her pet,
and it was definitely showing. Perhaps it was time to find a new one.
She placed the crop under her pet's chin, the deep brown eyes
snapping open instantly. No sound came from behind the red ball wedged
between her pet's teeth, eyes showing more resignation than fear. A flash of
white-hot rage burst within Kodachi's head as the crop slapped against the
bound woman's breasts. How DARE this miserable creature fail to show the
proper respect to the Black Rose?!
The heat of the moment subsided as quickly as it came, leaving her
shaking in its wake. As the rush of hate-fueled adrenaline faded from her
blood, she eyed her pet with a gaze that could slice diamond. The pain in
the other woman's eyes was far dimmer than it should have been, the once
delicious defiance gone from those almond windows to the soul. Yes, this one
was broken. Pity. Kodachi had so much wanted to make this one last.
"Very well, Nabiki Tendo," she hissed, "if that's the way it must
be. I'm sure those other harridans will keep you company in hell."
==========================================
Akane watched as the sun dropped below the horizon, the light of day
fading with it. The shadows on the roof lengthened with the advent of night,
darkness spreading across the city in a black tide.
The boots fit snugly, which was more than she would have expected
from something she found in a dumpster. While they did little to keep her
feet dry and warm, it was better than constantly running around barefoot.
The crow flew past Akane's head, her hair billowing slightly in its
wake as it glided into the maze of rooftops. Without a moment's hesitation,
she ran off in pursuit of the obsidian bird.
Akane made the first jump with ease, sailing across the narrow space
between the two buildings with balletic grace. She hit the next roof in a
dead run, legs pistoning in an almost frantic rhythm as she chased the crow
through the tops of the city. As the chase continued, Akane found that she
was not short of breath, scarcely even breathing hard as she charged into
the night.
Akane didn't need to see the crow to know where it was. She could
feel its presence like a line connecting her to the bird, pulling her along
behind as it soared above the rooftops, guiding her to where she needed to be.
She saw the enormous crevasse looming up ahead, a grim smile playing
across her lips. Akane refused to slow, instead pushing more out of her legs
as she charged the lip of the roof. Either she would make this jump, or she
wouldn't. After all, it wasn't like the fall would kill her again.
For a brief moment, Akane felt weightless as she sailed over the
street. The wind ripped at her hair, her clothes ruffling from the force of
air rushing past. Then, gravity reclaimed its hold on her, dragging her down
to the pavement below as momentum kept pulling her forward.
She landed heavily on the roof, knees bending from the force. Akane
stopped cold, looking around to get her bearings. She supposed she should
have felt something from that leap, a sense of exhilaration or
accomplishment. Instead, she felt nothing, just the constant agony of her heart.
[Come, Akane, we are close.] Akane broke into another run, following
the force that connected her to the crow.
=============================================
Fuckin' bitch.
Yoshi glared down at his member as he stood over the toilet, the
garish scar around its middle still glaring at him after all these years. He
still remembered the pain of it, hot and sharp agony that had permeated the
very core of his being. Torment that had stabbed at his soul when other
women looked at it in horror or in curious revulsion.
That fuckin' whore.
Nights like this brought the memories to the surface, the
humiliation as fresh as it was twenty years ago. Nights when his only true
companion was the bottle of Uncle Taki's special cough medicine. Good old
sake. It never left him, never looked at his cock and laughed, and always
took the edge off the memory of that red-headed slut.
That goddamn cunt!
He shook it twice, placing it back in his pants before washing his
hands at the fake porcelain sink. He gazed at his reflection in the tiny
mirror, hair already going gray around the edges and jowls that had decided
to hell with trim and fit, just like the rest of his body. A rosy glow
colored his face from the multitudes of burst capillaries, bloodshot eyes
staring dully back at his own. It would have been different, he kept telling
himself, if she had just took it like she was supposed to and not tried to
fight. But he had showed her. He took that short piece of pipe and drove the
lesson right into her fuckin' skull. Some girls just didn't give good head.
He chuckled ruefully at his own joke before stumbling back toward the
bedroom where his one real companion awaited.
He'd shown that little cocktease. He'd shown her good.
A crisp breeze moaned through the open window of the darkened
bedroom, the television providing the only source of light. The unnatural
blue cathode rays cast strange shadows on the walls, made even more lively
from the haze of booze that clouded Yoshi's mind.
"Aww... shit!" he groaned as he plopped onto the bed, the springs
screaming in protest. Damn, but his back was hurting tonight! He glared at
the small screen of the television, some stupid fucking cooking show about a
bunch of twerps trying to out-cook the resident fags. Wasn't that just too
damn cute?
"What the?" he started when he heard the strident caw from the
window. His bleary eyes tracked the blob of moving darkness as it streaked
through the opening, coming to a hastened stop atop the tv.
"The fuck're you doin' here?" The bird cawed once as if in reply as
it stepped from side to side, talons clicking softly on the plastic surface.
Just what he needed, some lost little squab tyring to make a nest right on
top of his fuckin' tv. Keeping his gaze firmly on the stray bird, he reached
for the nearest object to hurl.
"You don't want to do that."
"SHIT!" he yelped, jerking towards the sound of the voice.
She leaned against the wall next to the open window, a patch of shadow
scarcely illuminated by the flickering blue glow of the tv. Despite the warm
haze of sake that permeated his body, Yoshi felt a cold chill run through
him with violent intensity.
"Yoshi...." His name slithered from the patch of shadow, a barely
audible hiss that carried with it a rage and madness he never knew could exist.
"Fuckin' squab brought a friend," he snarled, shaking off the
feeling of unease that tried to settle over him like a pall.
"Get it right, moron," she said, moving away from the wall. "It's a
crow." Yoshi's eyes followed her as she silently closed the distance to the
opposite wall, a sillhouette that moved with fluid grace through the darkness.
"Crow, squab, what's the difference?" Yoshi felt around for the gun,
his drunken confidence returning in force. Whoever this whore was, she was
gonna be sorry real fast.
"Crows are messengers of death," she replied. "And this one has a
message for you."
"Yeah?"
"Yes. I've wanted to talk to you for the longest time, Yoshi
Sakamoto. Twenty long years."
"Coulda left me a fuckin' message, ya little cunt."
"I wanted to do this in person." The room was flooded with light,
stabbing at Yoshi's eyes with a vengeance as his pupils fought to cope with
the sudden influx of illumination.
"FUCK!" He managed to open his eyes to small slits, a bright blur
greeting his vision and sending throbbing pain throughout his skull. The
pain and the glare lessened as the seconds ticked by, the jumble of brights
and darks coalescing into a concrete image.
She stood stock still next to the light switch, ragged boots
glistening with drizzle from outside. Tattered pants and a shirt of dull
cotton hung off her body, patches of pale flesh exposed through the torn
holes in the legs and sides. Her hair was a tangled clump that jutted out in
every possible direction at once like a roadkill raven over a face covered
with dark smudges. But what drew his attention was her eyes, clouded with
pain and death, ebony windows to a soul wracked with agony.
"Sorry," she said in a tone that shouted that she was anything but,
"I didn't have time to put on my face."
"You got some guts, bustin' in here like this," Yoshi drawled, his
hand closing around the piece of cold metal beneath the stained blanket.
"You high?"
"I want you to tell me a story, Yoshi." The girl - why was she so
familiar? - started walking toward him, the hate dancing in her eyes belying
the icy calm of her face.
"Yeah, I'll tell you a fuckin' story." Just a second more... "Once
upon a time, there was a guy who did this!" The .45 ACP was in his hand and
trained on the filthy woman in a fraction of a second, a round screaming
from the barrel with a flash of orange and the stench of ignited cordite.
Time slowed to a crawl as the bullet slammed dead center into her chest, the
grey jumpsuit billowing from the impact with a fine mist of rose colored blood.
"The end," he said as the girl stumbled backward, head down and arms
held akimbo. "An' he lived happily ever after. Nice fuckin' story, huh?!"
"I think it needs a re-write!" Her head rose up again, the baleful
glare enough to sear the skin of any man unfortunte enough to be in its way,
though Yoshi didn't take notice of it. His eyes fixed on the red stain where
the bullet had hit, watching it shrink as the blood retreated back into the
hole from whence it came. The edges of the coin-sized void drew together,
closing completely with no sign of injury.
"Ho-ly shit!" No, that didn't just happen, no fucking WAY! The
terrible howl of tormented hate hammered into his eardrums as she took
flight, landing before him with inhuman grace. The gun was sent clattering
to the floor, his hand numb from an impact he didn't see just before he felt
himself hoisted up by his own tee shirt.
"I SAID," she began in a voice filled with madness, "I WANT YOU..." his
back slammed into the plaster wall, cracking the fragile mix that coated the
wall studs. "...TO TELL ME..." the coppery tang of blood filled his mouth as
his head was rocked by a vicious blow. "A FUCKING STORY!"
Gravity lost its hold on him as, stunned from the sudden and violent
beating, he flew in a perfect ballistic arc through the plasterboard door to
the bathroom he had left only minutes before.
He hit the linoleum floor with a heavy thud, sharp pain lancing through his
right arm as it slammed against the sink. Yoshi Sakamoto lay there on the
cool surface, wailing in agony as blood continued to spill from between his
lips.
"Ah.. shit... oh, God, it fuckin' HURTS!"
Akane stood in the doorway to the bathroom, staring at the writhing form on
the floor. His right arm was bent at an unnatural angle between the elbow
and the wrist, a few tiny fragments of bone jutting out into the air. There
was no mercy, no feelings save undying hatred for the waste of human flesh
before her. The murderous rage sang in her blood, its dischordant melody
casting her vision in a blood red tint.
[Hurry, Akane,] the voice of the Crow said, [time is short.]
Screw you, she thought, I want him to KNOW what pain is like.
The bathroom light flared to life as the sound of footsteps drew closer to
his prone form. He paid it no heed, the lancing pain in his arm demanding
his entire focus.
"It hurts?" she mockingly asked. "It HURTS?! You... you don't know the
MEANING of pain!"
Yoshi forced himself to gaze at the furious banshee before him, the warm
comfort of the sake long gone. Her face was twisted in anger he never
imagined could exist, tinged with a pain he didn't ever want to know. In her
hand was the half-empty bottle of sake from the nightstand, held fast in her
white-knuckled grip.
"You don't know what it's like to suffer real torment! To suffer in hell
the way I have!" She jerked the bottle up to her lips, throwing her head
back as she took a hard shot of rice wine. Icy terror sank its claws into
his heart as she slammed the bottle against the rim of the sink, sending
jagged fragments of colored glass into the basin.
"What... the hell... do you WANT?!"
She paused after another step toward him, seeming lost in thought. "Where
were we? Oh, yes! You were going to tell me a story, weren't you?"
"YES! Yes, I'll tell you a damn story!" Right then, he would have told her
ANYTHING she wanted to hear.
"Good boy," she sneered, the sight making Yoshi's chest clench even
tighter. She slowly, almost languidly moved over him, straddling his heaving
chest as she brought her face within centimeters of his. "Now, this story is
about a young girl, who got into one tight spot too many. It was about
twenty years ago, in a ward called Nerima."
Yoshi's brain scrambled to make sense of what she was saying before things
finally clicked. Twenty years ago... Nerima Ward... that bitch?
"What're you babbling about?"
"THINK! I'm sure you'll remember. She had red hair tied back in a pigtail."
"Yeah, yeah, some red-head in the park, whatever!" Pain bloomed in the
center of his face with the crunching of bone and cartilage. Blood and mucus
began to run from his shattered nose, mingling with the dried fluid from his
mouth.
"Her name was RANMA!" she screamed, the sound hurting his ears. "You and
your friends raped her! You murdered her, you motherfucker, you MURDERED
HER!" Those intense eyes bored into his own, expanding to consume his entire
universe with their raging fire. "But, she left an impression on you, didn't
she?" The remains of the bottle appeared under his chin, the razor sharp
edges digging into the flesh.
"Whad da fudd do YOU dare?"
"I was his fiancee." His? Oh, this bitch was tripping HARD! "LOOK! Look at
me, Yoshi Sakamoto. Look long and hard..."
---------------------------------------------
"Jeez, man, this is weird!"
"Can it, Yusaku."
"Kazuo, how? We had to have left enough evidence on her for a blind guy to
see!"
"Shut up, Yusaku..."
"We oughtta be getting cornholed in the nearest prison right now..."
"WILL YOU SHUT THE HELL UP!"
"Fuckin' dyke gets it, we get off scot-free, an' her carpet-lickin' bitch
friend gets the axe from that nutbag. This is sweet!"
"Yoshi, she almost bit your dick off, man!"
"Fuck you, Tenchi!"
"Man, this is gonna come back to us. Someday, it's gonna come back and bite
us right in the ass."
"Shut up, Yusaku!"
----------------------------------------------
Oh, no. It... it can't be! IT CAN'T BE! Yoshi stared up at the girl he only
now recognized, his body numb from the shock of realization. Her face
hovered over his, every detail standing out in crystal clarity.
You're dead! he wanted to scream. This is the real world, people don't come
back! The words, however, failed to make it past his constricted windpipe.
"I am dead," she whispered as if she had read his panicked thoughts. "And
so are you."
======================================================
The murderous need slowly ebbed from Akane as she washed the blood off her
hands, leaving her drained and confused. The water ran a pale red down the
small drain, carrying a few of the sake bottle's remains with it.
[Hurry, Akane,] the Crow whispered insistently, [they are coming closer!]
She glanced at her reflection in the small mirror, and for the briefest
moment didn't recognize the face that looked back from within the symbol.
She shook off the strange feeling, knowing that she had to leave before
others came.
The Crow waited impatiently on the windowsill, fidgeting from side to side
in a nervous dance. Lightning turned the sky a glorious electric blue,
fading to be replaced by the roar of heaven's immeasurable fury. Akane
stepped past the remains of the shattered door, stopping next to a black
bundle on the floor.
[What are you doing?]
"Just taking a souvennier," Akane replied as she donned the black coat. The
leather coat fell past her knees, dangling by her feet as she cinched the
middle closed. She didn't know why, but she felt better wearing it.
====================================================
The door opened without resistance, Patrolman Tetsuo Nakamo sweeping his
service revolver across the entryway. Times like this made him glad the
powers that be had relaxed their unbelievably stringent restrictions on gun
use among the Koban. He still had to catalog every single round used, but
street cops were now allowed to carry a firearm wherever they went. With the
rise in voilent crime over the past decade, such was a real comfort indeed.
What a dump, he thought as he surveyed the darkned mess of the foyer. Signs
of a struggle, maybe? The call had stated that shots had been fired, a
robbery that went sour?
He slowly stalked toward the door leading to the bedroom, nervous tension
tightening his gut. Where the hell was his backup? Light spilled out from
beneath the door, the sound of an Iron Chef rerun coming muted through the
particleboard. Tetsuo took a deep breath, rearing his left leg back and
slamming it into the door with all the force he could summon.
"POLICE! FREEZE!" The door slammed against the wall, rebounding halfway as
he surveyed the room. The covers of the bed were tangled and strewn,
articles of clothing and emtpy bottles lining the floor. On the wall above
the bed was a web of cracks in the plaster, roughly resembling a human
shape. The single window stood open, drops of water soaking the floor from
the growing storm outside.
Cautiously, Tetsuo made his way to the shattered door across the room, his
revolver leading the way. The only sounds, save the television, were the
pounding of his heart and the roar of air in his lungs. Something felt
wrong, something that made his skin crawl. He didn't like this, not one bit.
"Oh..." The words stopped in his throat when he beheld the corpse on the
bathroom floor. He'd seen murder victims before, but... Oh, he was gonna
throw up!
Tetsuo turned away from the sight, struggling to suppress his gorge while
fighting desperately to banish the image from his mind. Whoever had done
this... he couldnt have been human!
"Adam Twelve, come in Dispatch."
"Dispatch, go ahead, Adam Twelve."
"Get a coroner up here, and Forensics. Cancel the ambulance."
"Copy, Adam Twelve. What is your status?"
"No suspects in the vicinity, Dispatch."
"Copy."
"Adam Twelve out." Tetsuo moved as quickly as he could through the
apatment, trying not to run. He'd wait outside, he did not want to be in the
same room as that body on the floor.
=========================================================