Night 3 Part 2: Recollections
In the field of killing, there is no way to draw the line between good and evil, hero and villain. The only thing to note is this: no matter what you call it, it is still killing. What makes a professional killer different from the others is the reasoning that drives them. Some kill for money, others kill for pleasure. Some kill for revenge, and some kill because they have no choice.
Others kill because they are searching for something. Forgiveness of their past sins, forgiveness that they have not realized comes from themselves. Searching for what makes them feel alive.
These killers are different, each with their own reason and story.
Rika and Ban separated that instant they walked in. Each had business to attend to. Ban had his partner, the legendary Rai-tei, working with Kurodo Akabane, also known as the mysterious Dr. Jackal.
Rika, on the other hand, no longer cared for her team. Trust led to betrayal, once again. She wouldn’t allow this betrayal to escape.
They truly are murderers, she thought, ducking behind a chair as to not be seen by the groups of men patrolling through the building.
They do not care of their target. They kill for fun, don’t they?
She quickly crossed that thought from her mind as she stood and began to run again.
No, her mind continued, finally realizing what she did wrong. We aren’t the murderers. We are but pawns, aren’t we? Just pieces to be used and thrown away.
It was a slow process and first, but like her speed, it increased with each step. Before she realized it, it had all made sense to her.
We are pawns. But the question is, who is playing the game?
The past came rushing back to her almost instantly. Even though she wished to focus on just the job, she couldn’t stem the tide of memories.
We were killers, each and every one of us. But we weren’t like the others. No, we were different. We had a goal. We had plans in our lives. Killing was not our only pleasure. We had our families. We had each other…
It was just the three of us. Rakeso-sensei was the master of unarmed combat, and had no equal. Her son, Taneda, was to be the successor of their dojo one day. Their family line had passed down the art for hundreds of years.
Rika was but a student, but showed a prowess above the others. She was analytical to a point of mimicry. The perfection of this art was what she was studying.
But, the appearance of friendship during the day and a budding love in the evening, melted away to survival at night.
The three of them were known as “Akai,” a band of murderers for hire, killing only the targets they deemed worthy of death. While other students may have joined on some missions, these three were the primary assassins.
Rika had turned a corner too quickly while lost in thought, and quickly turned around once more. Luckily, she was not seen, and waited until the footfalls passed. The food court was empty at this time, and she used the different former food chains as cover as she moved undetected.
But that was all to change. Rakeso-sensei was growing old, and could not maintain the job much longer. She wished to pass everything onto Taneda, allowing him to choose what to do with the family’s art.
The three were already family long before Taneda decided to propose marriage.
“When this is over,” he had told her, “we will retire from this bloodshed. We can live quietly together and turn away from our past.”
Rika was only too happy to agree.
That day, her entire world crumbled to pieces.
It was odd, that not a single student had arrived during the day. The three continued to practice. Taneda’s physical speed was only surpassed by Rika’s quick mind, as she learned everything about him by just his first three steps. While she could not mimic his speed, she could imitate his technique, making her a worthy adversary.
As night fell, we became uneasy. It was the first time that their students would not arrive, and it was the first time that a mission would not have any extra volunteers.
Little did we realize what was to come.
Rika’s hand was like a snake. She grabbed the nearest guard to her by his neck, and applied the two-hundred kilogram grip that she had borrowed from Midou earlier that night. His neck was nothing but a bloody mass within a second. The next second, before the others could act, she had thrown the body. With the borrowed speed, the entire fight was over within four seconds. The three guards were lying in pools of their own blood.
She drew a pistol from one of the holsters and continued to move.
They knew we were coming. They knew of the contract, and had moved against us. There was no way around it. The men came in through the doors, armed with automatic weapons.
Rakeso-sensei was the first to fall. She moved in quickly, a wooden sword in her hands. She had only finished her first swing when her body was riddled with red holes.
“Get back!” Taneda never had the chance to say anything else. He had pushed Rika into the back room and locked the door. The sounds of the guns drowned out her sobs and the shouts of pain from the young warrior.
Without thinking, she ran out of the building through the back door to be greeted by the smell of blood.
The back road was covered in bodies and blood. The bodies and blood of the students who had never stood a chance. They bodies showed signs of broken bones, bullet wounds, and faces expressing pain beyond mortal comprehension.
Continuing to run, she reached the entrance. The door and windows were opened. Only three men stood among the bloody ruins.
“How many?”
“Only one left, sir.”
“Good,” the man said, removing the ski mask that covered his face. It was a face she would never forget.
The face of Midou Ban was forever etched into her mind.
Rika jumped back, and fired the rounds from the pistol as fast as she could. Remae had taught her well, teaching her how to pinpoint a weakness and where to exploit it with a ranged weapon. The two police officers fell before having the opportunity to fire. She continued to run.
Remae…
It never dawned to Rika until she actually fought Ban. The way Ban held the gun at that time was the same technique that Remae had taught her after he had “saved” her.
She had run from that scene as fast as she could. Apparently, one of the three men heard her, and chased after her. The two were much slower than she was, and she quickly had created a large amount of distance between them. She entered her apartment building and quickly ran up the stairs, and entered the door. She locked it and sat against it, trying to control her silent sobs.
She heard the two men reach the hallway. She had a feeling that it was already over.
But it wasn’t. She heard the sound of two bodies connect with the floor, and steady footsteps afterwards.
She stood, her back still to the door as she tried to stop breathing. She couldn’t allow herself to be noticed.
The calm knock at her door made her jump. The voice was enough to scare here even further.
“It is safe to come out, miss.”
The calm manner of the man was disturbing. After taking a moment, she calmly opened the door.
The man before her was dressed in a business suit. The face was one she would easily forget.
The two had spent the next month training. He had the information she wanted, and had the means to teach her what she did not know. Imitation, firearms, lock picking. Everything she had ever needed to know, he taught her.
She never realized that the way he held his weapon was the same was Ban had held it that day…
And now…
She checked the bullets she had left. Three rounds in the magazine, one in the chamber. It would have to be enough.
The master of imitation would meet his match this night, no matter the cost to her. However taxing her ability was, it was worth the price.
She just hoped she found the bastard first.
No matter what fancy words you put to it, it is still killing.
Wamushi had proven this fact almost daily. Now, he was proving it every few seconds. His sword was a blur, slicing steel, ceramic, flesh and bone with equal ease.
Killing…
Wasmushi was not always a killer. Quite the contrary. As a child, he had studied kendo, just as his family asked him to. Not understanding why, he studied and excelled. As a teen, he studied the basics of kenjutsu, and quickly entered iaijutsu.
Even though the art he learned was truly an art of death, he swore that he would never kill.
That had changed in time.
My own school…my, where did those days go?
Wamushi sheathed his blade and continued to walk, ignoring the two assassins coming toward him. He would deal with them in time. This was now his job.
Iaijutsu…speed incarnated into swordsmanship. An art I could excel at, and teach of my own.
That bastard…he changed that all, didn’t he?
He buys my mortgage from the bank, then forces me to pay an enormous increase in my payments, but still taking the same number of years for the loan. First was the school, then my family…
The bastard had taken my daughter first. Then had killed my wife. He bought my sons, training them into heartless killers.
I had no choice. Can you ever forgive this old fool?
His sword was coated in blood, but the blood upon it was meaningless. There was only one person he wanted the blood of. Only one person’s blood would remove the stains left upon his hands, his legacy, and his soul.
If I kill him, they will die. Working was the only choice…
While it was only three years…Renault proved to be a worthy partner. I was ordered to work with him on every mission. No mission could be done alone. That man’s strange talent for weather crossed with my speed. There was no way to stop us.
“Aoi,” he muttered, his hand shaking slightly.
That was the name we earned. Blue to represent the water we both possessed. One with the actual element, the other with the virtues it would represent.
But I didn’t have a choice, did I? If I had not taken his offer, I would have lost everything. The legacy would have ended with me before it had even begun.
Ancestors…please, forgive this old fool.
Pohl…he had everything that I had once possessed. Everything that I held closest to me. Everything in life that had any meaning…he stole it all.
Either I kill…
“Or be killed,” he said quietly, stopping in his tracks.
They will be here shortly he thought, closing his eyes.
This night will truly be the end of it. Please…allow me to be forgiven.
Wamushi never realized that the only person able to grant him forgiveness was himself.
Renault was running in the cold winds, but they did not bother him. In actuality, the air around him was a steady, comfortable temperature. His control of the weather granted him this ability, and he was known to abuse it.
His “Phantom” mask was fit snugly against his face, hardly moving no matter how fast he ran.
The mask had a story behind it, just as everyone in their group had their own story.
Europe…my, how much this country differs from home.
But I was still different. Being a foreigner here is the same as having a gift at home.
That “gift.” The curse, more like it.
I was the head of my class. There was no one better in any subject. It was that reason I quickly earned the lead of the play. “Phantom of the Opera,” starring Renault. It was sold out that night…
My voice had quickly won the hearts of the women in the audience, and my demeanor won the respect of the men. It was a shame that it would all end…
One of the members of the lighting crew had made a mistake, and had crossed some wires. A fire had started, and quickly spread. No one escaped.
No one except myself, that is.
The weather was snow that night. I will never forget it…
As the fire raged, and everyone ran for any exit they could think of. The fire was quickly spreading.
My talent was the only thing that could stop this. Wind was my ally, and I moved the air to part the flames…
Instead, I only fueled the fire. More people died. Then the explosion…
In the snow, slowly bleeding. The mask was still on my face, the tears becoming caught at the lip.
He was there for me. That man raised me like his own son. He trained me, showing me that my talent could change the world.
He recommended that I worked for Pohl…who paired me with Wamushi. Together, we worked undercover and learned about Coldan and his documents.
The past is in the past. What matters is my job now.
He would have slid on the ice if it weren’t for the fact that he knew where it was beforehand. He did use the ice to speed his turn though. The two assassins would be coming toward him, and he had to finish this job.
The last scene of the Phantom, in the opera of life…
Damn, she has a nice ass.
Remae shook his head and tried to stand up. He regretted even trying, and decided to remain seated, his mind wandering.
Well, there was a reason to keep her alive, of course. Cannon fodder is always a nice thing to have around. A nice body is also nice to have nearby as well.
It’s a shame. Such a beautiful body, and she’s unwilling to share it.
Dedicated, isn’t she?
Remae’s thoughts were solely on Rika as he tried to recover from the electric shock. He gave himself the pleasure of shifting his outward appearance into hers.
Such a flawless body. Such raw ability. Imitation of those around her. Sheer perfection…
Remae may have been considered mad by some, but to him, he was perfectly normal.
Hundreds of faces in the mirror, which will I wear today? Will I be a lawyer or a criminal? Will I be pious or show a darker side? Corrupting or cleaning? Always a tough choice…
In this business for…how long? Twenty? Thirty?
Thirty-eight.
So many faces. Dozens a day, hundreds a week. Thousands in this lifetime. Millions.
Mad? Never.
This is my personality. Isn’t it? This face…this is my face. So what if it looks like hers…this is still my face.
Yes…this is my face. So is that one. And this one as well. They are all my faces. They are not using them anymore…why shouldn’t I use them for the both of us?
Surely…why not? Who needs a face that will never be seen again?
His image shifted to that of Taneda.
This face…her lover…does this make me her lover? Am I the same as this man?
His appearance then became that of a young nun, wearing a habit coated in blood.
Am I a victim, like this woman? How many times have I died, only to come back again?
This face is my own. So is that.
If her face is mine…does that mean she is mine?
He shifted his appearance to that of Rika once again, taking a sick pleasure in each change.
Yes…she is mine. So is Wamushi…and Renault. They are all mine. Each one of them is nothing. They are all mine…
Mine…
They belong to no one…
Remae found the strength to stand once again, his muscles twitching invisibly under the mask of an illusion that he wore.
Mine…
The small hangar was just ahead. Inside, there would be his means of escape.
Sheer perfection Pohl thought.
This plan is perfect.
I will be rich…rich enough to buy what I want.
The yakuza will pay me good money for the reports…and protect me. Yes, protection is mandatory with this case.
The financial papers…I can ruin Coldan with these. After all of these years, his company can fall. And when he falls…I will just buy the business. Perfection…
The rings…well, I don’t have a wife…
Melt them down. Sell them. Who cares. Just more money for me.
Pohl’s mind continued to wander as he walked through the snow, ignoring the sound of the helicopters circling the building.
They all belong to me…
When they all kill each other, there will be no one left. Kritiker will not be able to touch me when all of their assassins are dead. Esset will mean nothing to the world soon enough. And that Dr. Jackal…he will be mine as well.
If not…they can all die. The more that are alive, the less I will have.
Yes…they all will die…
The helicopters never came close to his position. The pilots had known from the beginning what his motives were. They were hired by the yakuza to move in and kill all of them. Only Pohl would survive, and all of the money from the papers would be his. Additionally, he wouldn’t have to pay any of the bodyguards.
Assassins…being killed by one of your own kind. A bittersweet, isn’t it? Each one of them will see what it is like to be on the receiving end of being hunted. Each will realize what it is to run for their lives. Each will see the power that money has.
Money…money will always be stronger than the power of a single person. With enough money, anything can be purchased. Fast cars, large houses, strong horses, fast women. All of it would be his…
Greed…no, I do not suffer from greed…greed is for the weaker in this world. Greed is for the people who did not ever have anything…
But I have had so much. So much…and now I will have more.
More…
Pohl smiled to himself. It was now midnight, and the party was just about to end.
