The Black Pack started by Madsman; this part by Kenji Murasaki.

Yeah, yeah, I've been lax in posting these. ^^; I'll be posting more often
soon, honest!  However, If you'd rather read the rest of it now now NOW,
come on down to http://www.improfanfic.com/ for this and MORE!

But that's not all, folks: if you like the story, you can add your own two
cents...by signing up to be a writer!  Throw a monkeywrench into the works!
Contribute to the insanity!  Or just get that warm fuzzy feeling of having
written something.

And without further ado: Chapter three of The Black Pack!

***

Richmond Gray was happier than he probably had a right to be.

His life was, to his own admittance, a how to guide concerning the tasks
to avoid doing with one's time.  Taking up his father's invitations to some
of his more messy (read: bloody) conversations with store owners concerning
protection revenue would not be considered a very good move by society's
rules.  Exploring his fascination with sharp objects by experimenting the
resistance of the neighbor's animals' hides to fine blades was not much of a
personal achievement.  Studying the martial arts and tai chi might have been
a character improvement if not for the cold, violent ways the man applied
them, especially on his own father.

However, he enjoyed what he did, and that was what mattered.  Certainly, he
could have allowed the negatives to pull him down, but he preferred to
attempt a lighter, brighter outlook on things.  Not that he could ever
achieve the full optimistic effect, given his profession.  He wouldn't
reduce himself to an idiot's blind glee while being an assassin, people
would think ill of him.

No, Richmond would be happy with his ways, and society could look the
other way for all it mattered; he had the people around him who understood
him, the most important of them being the one he was wed to.  Sweet Geri
had been a grateful breath of fresh air when his situation was dire enough
for him to contemplate taking the quick way out, of course taking a couple
of orderlies and doctors with him for the trip.  She knew Richmond, and
took comfort and security in him, unlike his other unsuccessful domestic
disputes.

The hot, feverish sex didn't hurt much either.

Geraldine, a roof over his head, satisfaction in self; Richmond was all
smiles about his situation, despite the fact he might not live to see
another day, should Remy Forsythe have his way.

But still, The Silent Knife thought as he looked down at the eternally
quiet body of their 'prisoner' as the man sank to the bottom of the
pier, he enjoyed his work, and life was good.



"So you dumped the gimp?"

"Yeah.  I mean, you know how it is with guys that don't know how to treat
a girl, right?"

Alice Rogers gave a nod to her conversation mate.  "I have had a couple of
bad ones, but you have to admit that they're all boys at some point.  They
do grow up eventually.  Hopefully."

Geraldine Gray (Foster, should you mention her around her brother) favored
the refined assassin with an amused smile.  "And you bonded with Garrick?"

Alice chuckled.  "Well, yes.  I guess that defeats the purpose, doesn't it?"

The younger girl giggled.  "Sure does, but that stick in the mud's gotta be
good for somethin', right?"

The blush was an odd contrast against Alice's skin, but her amused,
mysterious smile was well at home on her features.

"So anyway," the younger girl said, deciding to head off the icky vision
about her brother threatening to surface.  "The poor boy just couldn't
get himself straight, so I left him.  They eventually found him in the
locker room, tied up in the underwear of the girl he cheated on me with."

Alice arched an eyebrow. "I actually expected worse."

"It was the gym in St. Augustine's Catholic School.  The nuns like to keep
the sports room well-stocked; they really liked baseball."

"... You are your brother's sister."  Alice regarded the quiet water.  "So
then how did you meet Richmond?"

The younger woman's expression turned thoughtful.  "Honey bear?  It was one
of those little volunteer things that schools like to do.  My best friend
actually talked me into going with her.  More like conned, really."

"Really?"

"Didn't want to go by herself, so she bet me for it, with a couple of other
guys.  I was the only one to walk out that poker game with my underwear.
I'll introduce you to her sometime, but don't wear anything expensive."

Alice nodded absently and Gerladine continued.  "Anyway, we went on a
community stint, playing games with the inmates and stuff.  He is SO amazing
at checkers."  Geraldine clasped her hands over her heart.  "It was love at
first sight, really.  I wanted to spend all my time with him, but they
really don't like visitors all that much.  Shermie got me in, though."

"The same girl?" Alice asked.

Geraldine nodded. "She held something over that facility's director, I
guess.  But I got my time with my hubby, and everything else fell in place
from there."

"You two work well together," Alice admitted, looking at the younger girl in
admiration.

The subject of the conversation walked up to the two women, brushing off
his long coat.  "Well, job's done.  I can treat you two to some food, now."

"Nah," Geraldine spoke up from his side.  Alice blinked, not comprehending
exactly when the girl had gotten there.  "I wanna go shopping for some
clothes."

"I guess that's doable, but I'm still getting you something to eat."  His
hand had, at some given point, fused with his wifes hips, and were hugging
them jealously.

"Bah.  Who wants to go eat now?  The night's young!  Let's go dancing!"

"That...would be nice," Alice admitted.

The tall man looked in Geraldine's eyes, and shrugged.  "Why not?  It sounds
better than deciding how to best raid that warehouse."

Alice waved a dismissive hand and turned away from the couple. "I'm sure
Demon's already got it covered."

"Good, then we can drag the stick in the mud with us," Geraldine giggled
happily.

Alice's face soured.  "He doesn't go out.  Not dancing."

"Huh?  Since when?"  The girl by Richmond's side blinked in confusion.

"Doesn't matter.  We can have our fun without him, right?"  Alice turned
back around and smiled at the two.

"Sure, I guess."  Geraldine would later note that the warm smile on Alice's
face made her very, very pretty.  Richmond would reply that it was nothing
compared to Geri's own, and she would attempt to thank him for it, but it
would not come to pass.

But that will not be important until later.




 tHe bLacK pAcK 



  Day 3:   The Real World
        Five Targets, Four Bullets



  by MtB; 7/22/2-7/25/2
  This Part: K. Murasaki




"Here are your pictures."

The man wordlessly took the items and began to examine them.  His eyes were
bloodshot, weary from days of smoking and coffee, but more alert than should
have been possible.  Other signs of typical fatigue were highly evident: the
five-o-clock shadow, a constant nervous twitch in his sweaty hands, and the
deep yawn that cut through his thought process as he scanned the images for
some hidden secret or unchecked detail.

"You're welcome, Willis.  It's not like I had to bend any elbows to get
those from Lawson's fingers.  She wants a favor from you in return, by the
way."

Sean Willis looked at the person, clearly not pleased.  "Probably because
you promised her something, Miller.  I'm not interested."

"You haven't even't heard what she wants yet," Miller said with a grin.

"I don't have to, I know it involves something that I don't have time for."
Sean stiffled another yawn and continued to scrutinize the photographs.

"Still going for a promotion, Sean?"

Once again, the man turned from his work to his partner.  "Have you even
been paying attention?"

Miller gave the pictures a once over.  "Looks like you're getting new bed
fetishes.  Something you haven't told me?"

He favored Miller with a dead glare.  "Did you miss the twenty-nine bodies
we had to clean up two days ago?"

"No, but that was a closed case since yesterday, last I checked.  It's the
reason I had to pull teeth to get these from Lawson."

His frowned worsened.  "Which means that you actually buy that gang member
angle, or that you're just being lazy again."

Miller favored the man a grin.  "Gotta date tonight.  Helps that my workload
is clear."

"Nearly thrity bodies show up in the downtown business area, and no one
blinks an eye?"

"Happens everyday," Miller said helpfully.

"If this was a Triad city, maybe.  This situation stinks, and I'm going to
find out how."  The man placed the pictures on his desk.  "Half the ammo
found was heavy duty-type."

Miller sat on the edge of Sean's desk.  "Meaning?"

"NOW you're just being lazy."  Willis quipped.

"FINE.  Most of the rounds around the local area were high-velocity, and
definitely not from the semi autos the casualties were toating," Miller
began.  "There was the burnt tree, and dozens of bits of shrapnel found for
more than a thirty-yard parameter, as well as chunky bits that probably
belonged to someone who had a personal relationship with the ballistics.
What few witnessess that spoke up stated several people versus our league of
bodies."

Willis gave Miller a wry smile.  "Was that so hard?"

Miller, however, was scowling.  "No, it wasn't.  What's hard is that I have
an idea of what you're digging for, and it's not going to make me happy,
Willis."

He shrugged. "I'm a cop, it's what I'm paid to do."

Miller glared at the man, but let it go.  "Have it your way, dectective.  I
still have my evening to myself, thankyouverymuch."

"What?  You quit the force?"

"No, I already did the footwork on the slug evidence.  No warehouses or
dealers I went to matched the rounds stuck in those bodies and the
buildings, so I'm guessing they're military-grade."

Sean watched his partner rise off the desk.  "So that leaves the local
militias to check for stolen arms?"

"And the wharfs for recent shipments, but you can handle all of that,
right?"

"You're forgetting the eyewitnesses."

Miller waged a finger in front of Willis' face.  "Actually, I'm not.  Your
hunches pay off, you know.  They're scared shitless, so good luck trying to
get them to testify should the perps be caught."

Willis opened his mouth, but the other cop turned and waved.  "Have a good
evening, Sean."



Garrick frowned.  He didn't do it often, and when he did, people became very
wary of the space they maintained around him, and how to enlarge it.  It was
great feeling years ago, because it meant he had that much more swinging
room, or that much more of a position at any particular meeting of fellow
bosses.  Now, however, it was a frown of the bored.  He was fresh out of a
cold, dark gray hell, and he was sitting around doing absolutely nothing.
No one was around for him to occupy himself with save for Alex, who didn't
want to be bothered.  Catching up on major events, the man had stated.

Garrick snorted.  Therein was the source of his uncomfort.  Five years was
quite a long time; actually longer than he had expected to get put away.  As
it stood, his world had turned on its ear, despite his towering, demanding
presence.  His friends and close associates were either dead, back in the
dim box he had just been released from, hiding, or giving lip service to the
monkey that was clenching his hairy paws around Garrick's empire.

It stirred and boiled many feelings within him, but mostly it left him to
remember that the world around him was no longer his own, and he had to
start from scratch.  For the moment, none of that especially mattered; the
Demon wanted to play, but there was no one present to play with.

He snorted, and grabbed his trench coat.  It was obvious that he had to go
find new playmates.

Or new victims.



It was The Riot, aptly named for the ocean of bodies that arrived almost
every night of the week.  They all came for two specific reasons; the
rush of the club, and the passion of 'getting lucky'.

The club provided, in fact, prided itself, on delivering every possible
source of fun and excitement.  Masses of girls and guys grinded, bobbed,
stepped, and screamed to the onslaught of flashing, multicolor lights and
throbbing, heartstopping music pouring out at almost every angle.  The bar
was live with an army of spirits and delights, the two dual stages shook
with the gyrations of the dancers paid to entrap and entice the eager crowd,
and minute men and waitresses were alive in the sea of human flesh, catering
to every little illegal, fashionable, and exotic need any one or one-hundred
person might have.

The Riot was its own beast, and should have been shut down many times over.
However, this was a city where the police knew which side of the bread had
the sweet spread, and would easily look the other way for every spectacle
that did not exceed the line of fatality.  Even then, some of those were
promptly ignored.  Such was the power of the syndicates, especially the
Maccivelli.

Revenue was plentiful, so the night went on, bellowing its call to any who
would heed attention, and be charmed enough to explore the intoxicating
tune.

"This is certainly loud," Richmond commented, not that his wife had heard
him, and he was sure she hadn't.

"WHAT?" came the reply.

"I SAID IT'S [LOUD]!"

"YEAH! GREAT, AIN'T IT!" Geraldine grabbed her husband by the arm and
dragged him to the bar, Alice following not too far behind.

"I GUESS...so?" Oddly enough, the endless tsunami of sound quieted to more
of an vigorous wave.  "Interesting enough.  So this is where you've been
going on those off days?"

"Yup!  It's so much fun!  You've never seen me really dance, have you?"
Geraldine gauged the look on Richmond's face and decided that, yes, she
liked that shy smile quite a great deal.

Richmond, on the other hand, was a bit flushed.  "Well, I actually thought
that I already did..."

"You--!" Geraldine gave him a playful punch in the shoulder.  "Well, you get
to see now.  To the dancefloor, bud!"

A helpless shrug later, the two set back into the endless sea of flesh. Icy
watched them go with an amused smile.



The music was pumping, and the crowd swayed and bumped along to its rhythm,
as well as several other unheard beats.

The Demon was no where near the sounds.

No, his brand of poison involved a little bit of restocking.  He had his
guns, and plenty of new ones to waste as necessary.  Money would have been
nice, at least from sources other than obvious one which was little more
than a fallback trap set by the guvs.  Seeing as bootlegging and trafficking
were a ways out of his line, more for a lack of time and energy, he would
seek other means of getting assets.  Perhaps a little bit of info and fun
out of it as well?

The Demon turned his jaded gaze toward the jumpy, scowling man with the
multicolored suit and piece against his side that was almost hidden if not
for the awkward, uncomfortable way the fellow walked, and decided that yes,
pimpin' wasn't easy.

But then, someone had to do it.

"Lookin' for something, man?" the gentleman asked with an air of arrogance.

"Now that you mention it, yes."  Gerrick approached the man with at a slow
pace, inwardly snorting in derision at the man's anxiety.  "Y'see, I've been
away from home for a moment, and I'm lookin' to get reaqcuainted. You get
me?"

"The fuck I'm supposed to do about that?"  Garrick noted, idly, that the
man indeed was not very familiar with his weapon.

"Well, I need information and a couple of money sources, and you can
provide 'em, so I have a business proposition for you."  By the cold sweat
breaking on the man's forehead, Garrick guessed the pimp had noticed that
his gun was not drawn, while the business end of Garrick's own was aimed at
him, ready to offer an alternative proposition, should the man so chose it.

"I'm listening," the pimp said in a voice that betrayed the tough, calm
image most of his profession would possess.

"That's good to hear," the Demon said with a pimp-eating grin.



Sean Willis was a dectective, and a damn good one.  He was such, simply
because he was what his colleages referred to as "a persistent ass."  His
case record was spotless, but do to his persistence, the chief didn't like
directly dealing with him.  The man trusted his judgement, however.

That trust had earned the gang case another look at Willis' prodding.  Or it
would, once Sean got a hold of something more solid than spent bullet
cartriges.  He knew there was much more to the massive shootout than even
witnesses knew about.  He simply had to find out how to expose that info,
and nab the people responsible. To do that, he'd start at the local docks.

The docks were the second lifeblood of the city, shipping in anything that
could make it on a boat.  The warehouses themselves were outwardly legit,
but Willis knew that all of them associated with one of the syndicates, by
tribute or by direct businesses. Heavy laws often did not dissuade the
possibility of heavy profit.

Unless that profit brought thirty dead bodies to the door of the police
pristinct.  Then Willis got involved.

Sean adjusted the lapels of his coat and scanned the interior of warehouse
42 with a critical eye.  Miller probably had been through the wharf and not
bothered to bring that to light; Sean knew his partner to be very thorough.
That Miller didn't want to bring that information forth told Sean that
Miller didn't have much luck.  Sean knew his own luck would be slightly
different, if for only one reason:

"What can I do ya for, cousin?"

The detective nodded his greating to the minor wall of muscle.  "Need some
info, Bruce."

"Well, come in, and I'll see what I can do."



"... So do you get my point?"

The pimp, Harley, Garrick found his name to be, nodded.  His face was still
soured with a frown, but such was the luck on being the pointy side of a
gun.

The two had chose to converse within a local motel not far away.  The decor
was spartan: a bed, a nightstand, a lamp, and the rigged television that
showed nothing more than sex and violence.

The perfect working environment.

"You want to invest in Spade's major deals, huh?"  Harley scratched his
chin, a nervous habit.  "I suppose I can help with that."

Garrick shook his head.  "You missed my point.  I know you've got clients
that have money to burn.  I need a front to pull in some minor change, and
piss off a couple off the opposition."  Spade was one of the higher ups in
the White Lotus, a triad syndicate that dealt more in feminine goods and
services than the other lucrative businesses.  They were also one of the
direct threats to the Maccavelli, in monetary influence if nothing else.
Spade was also something of an egoist, and Garrick knew that.

"And how do I figure in this?"

"I'm doing you a favor, really," the Demon replied.  "To involve you like
this makes sure you get something of a cut.  All you have to do is make sure
that you let Spade know about the business meeting.  I'll worry about the
supplies."

"And if I refuse?" Harley asked.

"Then I cut you out of the picture," Garrick shrugged, as if killing the
man were as simple as tying his shoes.  "You scratch my back, you keep
yours."

There was a pause, and Harley puffed on a cigarette he had ignored in favor
of keeping his eye on Garrick's gun.  "And you think you'll get away with
that?"

The Demon shrugged, but never lost his smile.

"Well, what guarantee do I have for this meeting?  You don't expect to just
have me knock on the man's door."

"No, I don't." Garrick brought a backpack into view, and in it were makeup
supplies and a small amount of cash.  "You can collect the rest when I get
the assurance he wants to meet with the head of Glitter National."

The man blinked at the contents in the bag, and immediately frowned at
Demon.  "How the hell did you get this stuff?  This is top-notch shit."

Another shrug.  "Like you said, you shouldn't walk up to the man with empty
hands."  He rose then, without word, and boldly walked to the door.

"Oh," Garrick said after pausing.  "You'll find a couple of hundred in cash
in there as well.  One of your girls tried to short you.  Consider that an
extra."

Garrick left, not caring to see the pimp's flustered look.  He was more
concerned about other things, like hoping his guess was correct about
Spade.  He was a rather lustful man, last Garrick knew, and always
frequented brothels and such.  It was an easy thing to recognize one of
Spade's workers, mostly by the way they were quickly cowed by supplies or
firearms.  It wouldn't be true, except that Spade himself was something of a
greedy cheapskate, not leaving his workers much in the way of decent
supplies and paychecks.

But those were thoughts for later.  For the now, Demon would reflect on just
how much the world had gone to hell in the time he allowed himself to be
away.  Having to actually pull on someone like a low-class hood was grating
enough, but to a anxious twit like that?  The likes of Harley didn't make
it far without exceptional ability in something, and Harley was mediocre on
all sides.  Yet he was still around?

Garrick snorted, more pissed with himself than he had been for some time,
moreso than the moment so long ago when he realized he was going to take a
fall.  Moreso than when he realized who was going to trip him.  From what
he had spent the past few days observing, there seemed to be little in the
semblance of actual order within his city.  An actual attempted MUGGING, for
Christ's sakes?

The city behaved like a puppet on cut strings.  Without him or any ofthe
other experienced syndicate leaders around, the people had squandered and
splurged like untrained kids, with the guvs as babysitters and regulators,
and even they were unprepaired to deal with the backlash.  Hell, they
couldn't even deal with the puppet they put in place.

Garrick never should have been stepped down.  Now he had an even bigger
mess to clean up than even he imagined.

On the bright side, he no longer considered himself bored.



"What do you have for me, Sean?"

The man passed his cousin a small billfold.  Family respect was family
respect, after all, but no one really worked for free.  "I need to know if
you've seen anything particularly nasty in the last month."

The big man made the manilla envelope quickly disappear, and frowned in
thought.  "Nothing you'd really want to concern yourself with."

Sean gave the man an irritated look.  "Try me."

"Well, there was a delivery almost a week or more back.  You should know
about that."

A nod.  "The dock explosion, right?"

Bruce gave his own nod, and turned to look over the water.  "Another gang
shooting, that part wasn't a lie.  What you might be interested is that the
cargo was from New Alcatraz."

"..."  The comment struck immediate strings in Sean's soul, and they all
played a really bad tune.  NOTHING good came from the criminal colony some
fourty miles off their harbor.  The veritable military base was designed
specifically to store the monsters back within the horrors of  Pandora's
Box.  That something came out of that prison, even under extreme guard...

Underneath all of that, a deeper cord vibrated within Sean, one that hinted
at the possibility of payback.

"Yeah, me too.  Don't know really who they were shipping, and I don't wanna
know.  I gave ya that much 'cause I think yer smart enough to keep away from
something that bad."  Bruce looked at the smaller man.  His wiry frame and
short, sandy hair gave the impression of a young man, but the bulky dock
worker knew better.

"Thanks," Sean replied. "But I can take care of myself.  I appreciate the
info."

Bruce shrugged.  "Don't say I didn't warn ya."

Sean nodded, and made his way out of the small, cramped office room, intent
to do some major research on some old files, and unsolved cases.



The house was lacked much of the excitement and noise its inhabitants had
experienced, and they were all that much happier for that fact.  Tired,
Geraldine and Richmond immediately trudged off to their bedroom.  Alice
immediately headed for the kitchen, while Garrick himself plopped down next
to Alexander, who was on the couch watching an action flick.

"Rough night?" the big man asked.

"Maybe," Garrick replied with a shrug.  "We should be able to ditch that
expense account soon, so that's a plus.  The guvs will soon be reinvesting
in the lucrative exchanges of Gliter National, so that's even better."

Alexander gave a hearty laugh.  "Sounds like you had a boring night!"

Again, all the Demon did was shrug.  "You know the deal, man.  You were
doing the same thing, I bet."

"Nothing major like a makeup chain, but yeah, I'm gonna stay afloat."
Alexander stuffed his mouth full of chips.  "No huntin' for info on Remy?"

"Why mess up the plan?  Keeps from making the guvs too happy, and we take
apart whatever he's set up bit by bit."  Garrick snagged a couple of chips
from Alex's bag and chewed.  He looked at his partner and gave a smile.
"Good flavor."

"Better than those damn barbeque things," the man huffed.  He looked around,
noting Alice making her way upstairs with a drink in her hand.  "So, we're
really on our own?" he asked.

"Pretty much.  Damn monkey got a good grip on what was left, so it's gonna
be hell rebuilding, but we'll manage.  Just a lucky punk, really. Right
place at the right time." Garrick chewed another handful of chips.  "Just
another lucky punk."

Alexander regarded the smaller man for a moment longer, then shrugged.
"Fine with me."

"Knew it would be, Alex."  The smaller man stiffled a yawn.  "I'm gonna
catch some sleep, man.  Later."

Alexander eyed Garrick.  "Yeah, right.  Five years in a hole, and you're
goin' to sleep?"  He chuckled.

Most men would look sheepish.  Garrick looked smug.  Still, he said nothing,
opting to simply head upstairs.

Alice, already more than halfway to her room, found the floorshow suddenly
much more interesting then her own thoughts of slumber.  Particularly,
Geraldine had her husband cornered, and was pawing at him just as hard, if
not harder, than she had been at the club.  It would have been cute if the
girl weren't trying to struggle out of her too-tight bodysuit.  Apparently,
she'd forgotten in her heat that there was a little convenience between her
breasts called a zipper.

Her musings were brought to a halt by her senses, stating someone was behind
her.  Garrick was eyeing the scene himself with what she could easily guess
was murderous intent, but his arms were wrapped around her slender waist.
It was a familiar gesture, and she melted into it.

"Er, hello, sir, ma'am." Richmond squeaked, finally coming up for air.

Geraldine took the hint, turning to lock eyes with her brother.  "Quit
peeking."

"Quit providing something to peek at," he growled.

The young woman smirked, and nudged her and her husband's door open with her
foot, and began nudging said husband in the same direction.  They stepped
in, and the door closed behind them.



"You know," Geraldine said as an afterthought, once remembering that she
could indeed unzip her clothing.  "Alice is a really pretty woman when she
smiles."

"True, but not as nearly beautiful as you, dear," Richmond answered with
a smile.  His wife squealed her delight at his comment, and melted into
his grip again.  Sadly, he could not shake the snake's glare he had gotten
from Foster.  Not that he was scared, but he had hardly had a wholly
pleasant eve.  As much fun as his wife's 'happiness' was, she had a bad
tendancy to be loud while happy; a great plus, but a fight was not what he
was looking forward to, at least at that moment.

"Perhaps a little later, dear?" he asked, cuddling her.  "I'm afraid I'm
getting a headache."

Past Geraldine's frown, Richmond realized that his comment was closer to the
truth than he had initially realized.

Such was life.



Author's Spewage:

This was much, much more difficult than it looks. -_-

I idly remember signing up for this some time back in September, then
swaping places in queue with Ryunson.  Didn't expect to be third in the
firing line, though, and now I can kinda see why.

Mads, David, I shall be the first to say that you two are a HARD act to
follow. :P

I outlined, re-outlined, drafted, drafted, tore up, and drafted yet again.
Nothing stuck, nothing made sense, and everything sold as really cheap or
really, really silly to me.  That usually wouldn't bug me, but the previous
drafts had little in the ways of advancing plot, which is a big no no in the
initial stages of an impro.  Gotta give them something to work with, right?
I hope I did.

This also came during a busy flourish.  New job, and the addictive child's
game that is known and cursed as Yu-Gi-Oh: Forbidden Memories.  THAT was a
fun balance of time and resources. -_-;

Anyway, MUCH thanks to my poppa, who provided the shoulder to cry on when
it seemed like no one else was listening (though I expect it was only 'cause
he wanted me to get back to work).  Also, thanks to Sharyna (who always
seems to be there when I least expect it), Anna, KaiGomi, and Apprentice for
prereading.  VERY Vital Advice: I recommend EVERYONE invest in a set of
prereaders.  Helpful, they are.  Yes.

I realize that this is pretty lax on the funny, but then, I'm not really a
funny person; just funny-lookin'.

Now, I sleep.  Or Duel.

- Kenji M. (Still hunting the ever-elusive Brown Eyes White Pocky)



The dead of night, or the calm of morning.  It didn't matter much to Icy.
Morals and scruples became meaningless when one allowed oneself to truly
attempt and justify their continued use.  In the end, it boiled down to the
desire and emotion that one held on to, be it a fleeting moment, or the span
of a lifetime.  Those who held on to their morals often operated in the
light of the morn, while the opposition dwelled within the refined shadow of
evening.

Icy preferred neither and both at once.  She was a creature of time, not
recognizing any supreme value in either day or night.

Her time was now.

A deliberate caution hindered somewhat by protesting muscles, Alice Rodgers
shifted her arm from the warmth of the expansive chest of Garrick Foster,
reaching for the cold grip of her P .38 handgun she had kept underneath her
purse nearby.

"So soon?" a gruff voice queried.

Her face not betraying the underlying suprise she felt, she turned her
vision to the jaded, demanding eyes of the Demon.

"You're supposed to be asleep."  A light accusation, considering the
severity of the situation.

"You should know better than that," he replied, his tone quite a bit lighter
than Icy knew it should be.

"We finally stopped only twenty minutes ago.  It's going to be sunrise
soon."  In the darkness of Foster's bedroom, Alice's fine-honed vision
caught the moonlight confessing the position of her gun, in Garrick's hand.
His grip was light, but she could tell his every sinew was taught, waiting
for her movement to be the slightest bit unfavorable to him.

"Looks like the Riot wore you out.  Now you know why I don't dance.  This
was kind of interesting when Nells attempted it on me."

Icy couldn't help her smile, then.  The story of the wannabe toppler of
Garrick Foster, Nells was quite the tale among his lieutenants.  What
wasn't quite clear was how she was caught.  What was crystal clear was how
she had paid for her trechery.

"You'd put me in the same room as her?" Alice asked with indignance.

"You put yourself there, Icy.  I'm just finally lettin' you see that."  He
stifled a yawn, a movement that flustered Alice, despite herself.  "Why
don't you get some sleep, darlin'?  I'm gonna start breakfast."

He rose without another word, stopping only to throw on a lavender robe and
don some fuzzy slippers.  Alice's patience broke in those moments of
silence.

"What do you mean?" They were quiet words, but well-reinforced with a deadly
venom.

"If you have to ask, you'll never know.  It's good to see you still have
ambition; it means that the guvs didn't get to you."

Once his presense was gone, Alice allowed herself to wrap the sleeping bag
around her naked body and shiver.  She was very aware that she wasn't cold,
and more aware that Foster was perhaps the sickest, craftiest man she had
ever come across, and attempted to cross.  Questions began spinning in her
head about the past, about the day the Demon was taken down, but the most
prominent question that played with her psyche like a finely tuned harp was
thus:

Why did she love that man so much more, even now?

***

Once again, that address! http://www.improfanfic.com/

Thanks for the time, folks.  We now return to your regularly scheduled
fanfics and C&C, already in progress.


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