[FIC] The Most Dangerous Game (part 5)
Posted: Mon Jan 19, 2004 6:36 pm
Sousuke moved quickly and purposefully, assessing and reassessing the battlefield environment within the main arena. Twenty minutes. In some ways, it was the blink of an eye, a scant amount of time to enjoy the rest of his life. In other ways, it was an eternity, plenty of time to reconnoiter, make plans, set up traps, and reach his chosen location.
The bag bounced heavily against his back. Its weight was taxing and restrictive, but he blessed that weight. The items he had packed would prove quite useful, and the weight would lessen with every trick and trap
that he set. His thoughts, likewise, were a heavy burden. But, as he thought each one, he threw it aside, no longer troubled by it. Kaname. He would think of her again if he escaped with his life. Afghanistan and countless other battlefields. Friends he’d lost, and foes he’d killed. What ever lessons they offered, he stored away. The emotional baggage he flung aside. Morality. A soldier’s honor. The code of battle. The nobility of The Cause. Those had absolutely no pertinence here and now. Life or Death. THAT was what was at stake, nothing more.
He was good at killing. It was a fact, and little else. He took no pride in his talents, but was grateful for them when the need arose. Something new stirred inside him. A challenge. Nevertheless, some part of him eagerly embraced the notion. A measuring stick. Just how good was he? Some part of him needed to know. A means to an end. Deep inside, in a part of him he never examined , a small bud on his soul grew to blossom. The enticing smell of vengeance excited him. If he made it out of the arena, someone would pay. If Kaname had been injured, they would pay with their lives.
There was no fear. Danger was his bread now. There was no worry. He was now the embodiment of Death and Inevitability. Purpose. Purpose coursed through his veins. Purpose pulsed with every beat of his heart.
Who did he face? He knew that answer. He had judged the level of threat each offered. What was the greatest threat? The woman. The sniper. If she was allowed to establish her position unchallenged---and unseen---it would only be a matter of time before he took a bullet. How would he coordinate their forces, were he on the other side? He would send the criminals and less competent out first, use them as dogs to flush out the game. They would be the hounds of Zarloff. Of course, there might be no cooperation among such men. The kill would earn the killer a pass. Their pride and sense of self-preservation would prevent them from being used to the benefit of others. No doubt, it would be every man and woman for himself or herself. Where should HE start out? Where were the optimal places to use his significant but limited resources? THAT was what he was working on now.
The lighting in the arena varied from zone to zone. Some were brightly lit, looking as if the afternoon sun lay straight overhead. Other areas were dark, practically unlit. In between, the landscape took on the look of twilight. Paths moved through each type of area. Tall structures, places of concealment, and large open stretches were equally spread throughout the arena. In the center of the large expance, a number of short and squat chimneys stood. Kilns. They were lit and operational, belching forth clouds of thick dark smoke. Even though the clouds grew thinner as they reached upward, the smoke would obscure the view of certain areas.
The arena was relatively quiet now. Soon enough, rifles, machineguns, and explosive devices would break that silence spasmodically. As he quickly ran along the paths, making certain his footprints could be seen to lead everywhere, It looks as if attendants had raked the paths after the last battle. Sousuke noticed that there were areas where the ongoing noises could serve as a cover. Old but functional conveyer belt systems from the factory were set up, moving their surfaces tirelessly. The strident panting of well worn motors was complimented by the squeaking and squealing of poorly greased pulleys and bearings. Large and small cranes and lifts were most likely operational.
The air smelt stale for the most part , but there were still lingering smells of gunpowder and others explosives. Every so often, he came to areas where the smell of blood was strong. Bodies had been removed, but large areas of blood stained the path or made grotesque splash marks on the surrounding metal, brick, and wood. The stench or rot and decay permeated some of the darker areas, where old wood and burlap lay decomposing. Some areas had a strong industrial smell, and those were the ones that Sousuke sought out first. Good. Whoever had fought here before no doubt was not given a sizeable head start, and had little time to use the environment to his or her advantage. There were a large number of full barrels of oil and gasoline products.
Grunting, his injured back spasming with pain intermittently, Sousuke opened barrels in strategic locations, spilling the contents on areas his foe would want to cross. Finished, he placed the empty containers out of site. He placed small amounts of plastic explosive near the flash points, keying their micro-detonators to a certain frequency on his trigger pad.
He checked his watch. Twelve minutes gone. Time to kick it into an even higher gear. Stopping to catch his breath, he sifted through his bag, taking stock one more. Yes. He had a good spot marked out for his anti-personnel mines and C4. Running again, he placed his remaining plastic explosive in areas where large and small items of many sorts lay precariously stacked. They would make wonderful deadfalls. Excellent. His own attempt at Rainsford’s Malay man-catcher. Finished with that task, he carefully concealed a number of particularly dangerous mines.
In the late 1990s, most of the countries of the world signed or ratified the Ottawa treaty abolishing the use of anti-personnel mines. The USA, Russia, China, and India did not sign. Sousuke’s signature was also absent from said document. All of his mines were the fruit of Mithril’s labors. Half of his stock were smaller but more deadly versions of the tried and true Claymore mine. His could be set to be triggered by sound, movement, pressure, vibrations, or remote detonation. He set each to whatever manner best suited its location. The remaining mines were jumpers, also with multiple means of triggering. Those ought to be just as surprising and as deadly as Rainsford’s Ugandan native trick. He saved two for future placement.
Finished with his traps, Sousuke ran towards one of the two ‘towers’ he wanted to explore while time remained. Seeing a number of large deep pits, he halted dead in his tracks. Was there time? He would try it and see!
One series of pits was near any area he had soaked with petrol. If he could make them look like the ground, they would be a tempting place to run for anyone trying the avoid a sudden conflagration. The selling points for his plan were a pile of large tarps and a small dumper car filled with dirt and rubbish. Sweating, and occasionally grunting in pain, Sousuke spread the tarps across the pits. He pulled hard on a lever, emptying the small wheeled hamper of its contents, which he then spread over the top of the pits. Good. It would suffice. His own version of Rainsford’s Burmese Tiger trap.
He checked his watch. Damn. If only he had ten more minutes. There was no time to check out the view from the two towering piles of materials he had narrowed his choice down to. He would have to choose one, climb it, and set himself up for his first task. That one. Not only was it the tallest, but it had a view of three out of the four tall structures on the opposite side of the arena, the area where he was told his foe would be enter the playing field. He hoped it wasn’t too unsturdy, or too difficult to exit when the time came to move.
The ‘tower’ appeared to be constructed by a haphazard stack of structures and housing from amusement parks and miniature golf establishments. It rocked and swayed as he climbed, making the ascent slower and more exciting than he had hoped for. The top of the structure consisted of a small replica of a turreted castle, sompleat with arrow slots and crenulations. That was his destination. Climbing, he noted that the set-up was not entirely random. Small metal fragments and parts of various machines and structures lay everywhere. They were easy to dislodge he found, and they made a terrible racket as they fell, bouncing off the larger metal and wood structures below.
At the top, he moved some rusted metal panels around, using them as shielding. He found his best vantage point, sat down, and took out a pair of high power binoculars. They had a built-in infrared detector, small but of some value at this distance. Almost time. He HAD to get that sniper. He MUST do it before the other members of the opposition ascertained his location and cut off his chosen escape routes.
His actions needed to be orchestrated perfectly. He needed to stay on the attack as much as possible. As soon as his choices were limited to defense alone, he was likely a goner---maybe not right away, but sooner or later.
He thought of another one of his favorite short stories, Liam O'Flaherty's The Sniper. It had pitted two snipers against one another in 1920s Dublin, at the heart of the civil war. He would not need to worry about the tragic ending in that story, where the one sniper found that the man he had killed was his brother
THE CONTEST WILL NOW COMMENCE. THE MAJOR PRIZES AND RULES HAVE BEEN ANNOUNCED. THERE IS AN ADDITIONAL PRIZE. FOR THE MAN OR WOMAN WHO KILLS SOUSUKE SAGARA, MISS SEGAWA HAS OFFERED A PURSE OF FIFTY THOUSAND EUROS. SHE WILL DOUBLE THAT AMOUNT IF MR. SAGARA’S HEAD IS DELIVERED TO HER INTACT. BEGIN.
Sousuke had visions of the movie version of The Most Dangerous Game, namely the scene with Zaroff's grisly trophy room. He knew what Kurz would have said had he been there with him. Sousuke old chum, try not to lose your head.. He grimaced. Would Kurz and Melissa get there in time? Could he pull this off alone if they did not?
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Kaname’s head was spinning. First, the near death experience with Maewe. That total nut case! Second, being shown amongst Reginald’s wealthy friend as if she were some kind of trophy. Sousuke’s girl. Reginald’s special ‘guest.’ And then, the announcement. Money offered for Sousuke’s death. And his head!!! This all reminded her of a television show she came to enjoy while staying in America---this was like something out of The Twilight Zone. That alone had her worried. That show was NOT known for happy endings.
“Kaname dearest, what do you think of this room? My father had it made up for me last year, sparing no expense. The wood is all endangered, smuggled out of each and every rainforest on the globe. Most of the species are banned, but they polish up so beautifully, don’t you agree? What good is wood in trees? Who sees it there?” The cronies all nodded their heads or vocalized their agreement. Many had made it a point to buy paneling for their own homes made of similar woods. Reginald paid them little head, running through various camera angles on the large wall-mounted television. “Of course, it will mean you’ll have to dance shoeless. That’s a shame, actually. When shoes are the only thing a woman wears, its so very enticing.”
Reginald’s soft almost calm voice had coaxed Kaname into speaking. “Actually, I’m not much of a dancer. Two left feet I’m afraid. So, the table will be quite safe. I’ll just sit here with you, watching the show.” She hated using that word. This was no show to her.
“Well, I must say that I am rather disappointed. That leaves me with only two choices. I suppose it would be unkind to simply return you to Miss Segawa---I absolutely hate doing anything that she likes. No, it would be better to loan you to my friends as a party favor, so to speak. That means you will miss the show, since we can’t have all that grunting and moaning interrupting the audio feed. What a shame. All of these screens are 80” Samsungs, the largest Plasma TVs in the world. You would have just loved watching the picture while you danced.”
“Y-you have been such a charming host and rescuer, that I would hate to disappoint you.” Kaname flinched, realizing just how desperate she sounded. “If my dancing would make up for your inconvenience, it would be rude of me to refuse.”
“Ah! I knew I had judged you correctly. What a fortunate man Sousuke is, to have such a wonderful woman while he lived. Please, step up onto the table.” He called his hangers-on, knowing they would be heartbroken to be excluded from the spectacle. “I’ve sent Celia into my on-site CD selection to find some suitable music. I suggested a bolero or three. I do have a couple of CDs of belly-dancing tunes, if you prefer that….”
“Oh yes! A dance of the Seven Veils!” One of the toadies was getting overly excited.
“What? Please try NOT to be so moronic,” Reginald retorted. “Please take yourself off the premises, your very ignorance unsettles me.” He turned to talk to Kaname as two attendants dragged the babbling man away. “The dance of the Seven Veils is only associated with belly dancing by the unlettered and the uncouth. Oscar Wilde’s play fictitiously had her do such a dance, but it was not meant to be seductive, as your dance will be. Right? Richard Strauss’s opera did make the dance provocative for its day, as barely clad women of Middle Eastern descent were popular in the pornography of the time. Women of oriental descent can be quite fetching too, can they not?” His look left no doubt that he expected an answer.
“Uh…yes, they can.” Kaname felt as if she were about to break out in sweat.
“Oh! I should apologize. How utterly insensitive of me. I NEVER should have mentioned Salome. I hope you can forgive me.” Reginald did not look in the slightest bit remorseful.
“Forgive you?” Kaname, looking down at him from the table, was perplexed. What was he talking about?
“Yes. As you know, Salome was the daughter of Herodias, sister-in-law to Herod, with whom she had an adulterous affair. They divorced their spouses so they could marry, their act condemned by John The Baptist. When Salome danced for Herod, he was so moved, he said he would give her anything she asked for. She wanted John The Baptist’s head, and it was delivered to her on a tray. What with Maewe’s challenge and all….” He hid a smile behind his hand. “But enough talk. The hunt has commenced. So too should the dance begin. Let’s make this fun. For every minute that passes, you will remove one more article of clothing. When Sousuke kills an opponent, you may chose to put one garment back on---if you so choose." He clapped his hands together, as if ordering a servant or a slave. "If you please.”
Kaname began to dance, not feeling the slightest bit excited to be doing a tantalizing act in front of men. Sousuke. You BETTER kill them all fast. VERY fast!!! Her thought shocked her. She was uneasy wishing for the deaths of others, even if they were all bad men and women. But, she reminded herself it’s them or Sousuke. She wanted Sousuke to live. Yes. She regained some of her spunk, and put the energy into her dance. If you live, but take your time, you are going to wish you HAD died!!!
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“Madame Captain, it appears that we have a problem.” Lt. Cmdr. Kalinin held the written transcripts given to him by Lt. Concepcion. “Miss Chidori became embroiled in a heated conflict with Miss Segawa. At some point, her microphone ceased to transmit useful material. We have waited an appropriate period of time with no change.”
“I see. Has she been severely injured? Do we know why the transmissions changed so drastically?” Tessa put down her half empty can of chilled coffee. “What was the latest information pertinent to Sgt. Sagara, prior to the end of transmissions?” Her eyes grew very intense.
“We have no way of knowing Miss Chidori’s condition. Our best guess is that the microphone was damaged or knocked some place inconsequential. The latter could have occurred while it was attached to the wearer, of course. As for the sergeant, we have no way of knowing when his fight was to start, or whether it is currently underway.” Mr. Kalinin did not show the slightest hin of concern or annoyance. It was as if he were carved from a block of solid granite. He did not verbalize his final thought. We do not know whether or not Sgt. Sagara remains alive.
“That does present us with a problem. What do you suggest, Mr. Kalinin? How long would it take for our fine fire fighters to infiltrate the premises?” Tessa referred to the ground troops, dressed in actual firemens’ uniforms supplied promptly by one of their contacts in the JSDF. The presence of a small fire and a disproportionately large cloud of smoke provided a suitable strategem.
“Once the signal is given, it should take no more than ten minutes for enough of them to make their way to strategic locations within the main buildings. Other men, dressed in street clothes or police uniforms have all of the obvious escape routes covered. I would recommend that we start the operation immediately.” The Lt. Cmdr. Accepted a cup of tea from the petite young woman. “Once we have word from our infiltration group, I would suggest that we send the assault troops in through blast points in the roof. At the same time, we should send the Arm Slaves in. We have a number of vans, buses, and trucks ready. Our guests will be moved to suitable locations as soon as they are extracted.”
“That approach seems reasonable, Mr. Kalinin. Please see that it is implemented as soon as possible.”
“Certainly, Madame Captain. May I make use of your intercom?”
“Yes.”
The operation was set in motion.
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Sousuke had manhandled the heavy HK PSG-1 into place, making use of its tripod. The gun might be a chore to carry, but it was a dream to shoot. Highly accurate. Semi-automatic. No need to work bolt action. It might not be Kurz Weber’s gun of choice, but it suited the younger sergeant just fine.
He placed a number of 5-round clips of 7.62 on the ground within easy reach. Timing, enemy speed and pattern of advance, and his level of succes would determine how many of the clips he would use. He might not remain at this height for too long once the exchange of fire started. He made certain to conceal all motion behind solid walls. He made no noise. His heat signature should be well-contained.
Movement. To the left. Down low, at ground level. He marked the man’s position and progress, but kept his eye out for activity higher up. The man did not carry anything other than an assault rifle. He could wait. The sniper, Miss Van Den Broeck, must be located. He refused to believe that she would join in on the frontal assault without trying to make use of her skill as a sniper.
More movement. Another man at ground level, this time to the right. No rocket launchers or RPGs. He would be ignored for now, too.
Even more movement. Another man. Those three were not subtle. They acted as if they believed they were under good cover, but they were not. They moved slowly and cautiously, but they were the first enemy seen. No doubt they were the non-professionals and criminals. They let their desire to make the kill---and their mistaken belief that they had what it takes to be successful---lead them into a precarious situation. They should have followed the more capable men, watching, learning, and taking advantage of their combat instincts. Soon enough, they would pay for their inexperience and rash decisions.
A fourth man drew attention to himself, peering from around a stack of tires. He did not pay attention to the environment. He had kicked up a large cloud of dust, giving away his position. Suddenly, he made a dash for cover, running low behind a large row of crates. He stopped in the shadow of one of the deadfalls. Sousuke removed his remote. This would not give away his position. He pushed switch #6, exploding the C4, causing the multi-ton structure of metal parts to fall into the area the man had chosen for his sanctuary. No chance for survival there. One down. Nine to go. At least out here.
The crash of steel upon steel echoed about the arena. The three visible men all threw themselves underneath the nearest cover. One man realized his mistake too late. The smell of petrol was ever so strong. When Sousuke flipped switch #3, the small explosive ignited the fuel-saturated ground, setting a large area ablaze. Screaming, the man barely fell out of the inferno, covered from head to toe with greedy flame. He stopped moving soon thereafter. Two down.
It was not a loud sound at that distance. But it was distinctive. Metal bouncing off of metal, multiple times. It spoke of height. It gave an idea of direction. It allowed Sousuke to be looking at just the right place at just the right time. He realized just how fortunate he had been. The woman had not gone for one of the highest vantage points. She had chosen a mid-level mound with good coverage. No doubt she was going to be patient, allowing the men to flush her quarry into view. All she needed to do was crawl into position. She had chosen to start moving during the noisy collapse of the deadfall. Clever. She should have waited for another masking noise.
She had made a mistake, or had simply been bitten by misfortune. There was no antidote. Swinging his rifle around promptly and sighting precisely, Sousuke fired three shots in rapid succession. He saw the woman’s head jerk back abruptly. That should have been a hit. She should have had no inkling to move her head like that voluntarily. Her hand lay sprawled over the edge of the mound. I am NOT a corporate head. I am a SPECIALIST. His mind flashed back to the happenings in The Sniper. The victor had played dead, and had slumped his arm into plain view, tricking his unwary opponent. Unlikely. The first bullet would have gotten there before the first retort did. If I missed, then I deserve to die. Three down.
Things were going better than he had expected. He would not be cocky, however. There could still be another sniper, for all he knew. Or someone willing to watch and wait. An opponent need not be a top marksman to get lucky. He could track his team’s position….watch his fellow combatants fall…and take out Sousuke when the moment was right. He would need to plan his movements accordingly, as best he could. This is nothing unique. It is just like other battles he had been in. If anything, he had been in greater danger in the past against more desperate and more skilled opponents.
Those first two men had obviously not understood just what had happened, from a tactical viewpoint. After the loud noises had ceased, and they had regained their courage, each had renewed his advance. They did not appear to be wearing anything bulky. Likely they did not have body armor. Heart shots should suffice.
Two shots. Two more kills. Five down. Nothing else visible. My position is no doubt compromised now. Time to move.
Sousuke reached into his bag and withdrew three smoke grenades. He tossed them some distance in front of his ‘tower.’ When the smoke had created enough cover, he shouldered his bag and climbed carefully to the ground.
Time to get up close and personal.
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Kaname continued to dance. She closed her eyes, trying to picture herself somewhere else, with someone else. She opened her eyes every so often, whenever thrown money bounced off of her. A number of people in the crowd were hooting or clapping rhythmically. A number kept yelling “Take…it…off…bay-beeee!”
Sousuke was sure taking his time getting started! She had already been obliged to remove her blouse and skirt. Why did I chose today, of all days, to go out without socks or stockings. The ankle bracelets did NOT count. Kaname was getting uncomfortably close to the unbearable, followed not too thereafter by the unthinkable. When Sousuke collapsed the large structure on one hapless enemy, she felt a chill wave of relief pass through her. She put her blouse back on. Not too much later, another opponent met a fiery demise. On went the blouse. “You GO Sousuke!!!” she yelled, surprising herself.
The men in the little assembly let out a collective sigh. Some of the women clapped or smirked.
“Ah, just when it was getting interesting,” Reginald chirped, not seeming in the least bit concerned. He could afford to be patient. “But, good things are worth waiting for, are they not, Kaname love?”
Kaname felt her skin creep at his choice of words. Just what did she have to look forward to? She stopped that train of thought swiftly. As long as she was alive---and Sousuke was still breathing---there was reason to hope. Right?
“If Sousuke kills another man while I’m fully dressed, do I get a rain check?” Kaname felt bold enough to speak up, shocked at the casual manner in which she asked her question.
On the large screen TVs, Sousuke could be seen firing three shots. The camera perspective quickly switched, showing the effect that 7.62 rounds had on a woman’s head.
“I must apologize, but that certainly would NOT be sporting. If you feel the need to blame someone, blame young mister Sagara. He appears to be much too talented to bet against.” Reginald laughed, his mood soon picked up upon by his guests and servants.
SOUSUKE! Kaname thought. I’ll blame you alright. JUST YOU WAIT…. She stumbled, her calf muscles beginning to tighten up. Softball, swimming, and other physical activities had not prepared her for this.
“Dear me. I DO hope you can keep on dancing, Kaname. If not, you will have plenty of time to rest those pretty legs, flat on your back.” Reginald made no attempt to hide his amusement. The crowd began chanting his name. He stood and took a bow. More whistling and hooting ensued, punctuated by the sound of wine glasses clicking against one another.
Sousuke chose two more targets. Two more lives were promptly erased. The camera operator zoomed in quickly, planning on showing the resultant carnage. The crowd was disappointed. There was far too little visible bodily injury to suit their taste. Where was the unspeakable thrill in simply seeing two men fall lifeless to the ground. One might as well watch longshoremen toss sacks of potatoes around. The death by immolation had set the bar fairly high.
Reginald, after sending one crony to bring in fresh trays of finger foods and beverages, took time to say “There he goes again, Kaname. If he was as good a lover as he is a killer, you were quite a lucky young lady.”
Kaname could not help herself. She missed a step, and her foot slid perilously close to a table edge. Her blush would make a beet seem bloodless. The “lover” had caught her more off guard than the “were” unnerved her. Her dancing continued. The seconds seemed like hours.
“Time!” Celia called out after another minute.
“What will it be, Kaname dearest? Blouse or skirt?” Reginald smiled. “Don’t let the pace slow you down, though. Feel free to take off as much as you want as soon as you are ready. No matter, it appears that your boyfriend is moving rather cautiously now. Good for him. Better for us.”
Kaname let her skirt fall to the table top. Damn you, Reginald. DAMN YOU, SOUSUKE!!!
“Oh, and Kaname, wiggle those delicious hips more, if you will. It gets the juices flowing in a most enjoyable way. The battle feels so much more primal, mixing bloodlust with erotica.” Reginald’s ‘request’ was met with shouts of glee.
Kaname came dangerously close to refusing or making and inadvisable smart ass remark. She caught herself just in time. The result of such a misstep leaft little to the imagination.
There was the sound of a significant disturbance outside of their cozy room.
“What IS that inconsiderate rabble up to?” Reginald asked, distracted. “Aki, Sambo, do go see what all of the hubbub is about. Be quick about it!”
The noise grew louder. People could be seen running past the doorway, jostling for position. “Where are those fools?” Reginald said to no one in particular. “Jakinson, you find out the answer. GO!” He snapped his fingers and a heavy set balding man walked quickly from the room.
“Time!” Celia laughed, a small kernel of concern crooking her smile.
“Kaname, blouse.” Reginald’s words were cut short by his unease.
Kaname was beginning to grow more angry than embarrassed. She was growing rather tired of all the indignities. She squirreled away every slight and insult. Somebody would pay.
“Mr. Smithers, there are intruders in the building.” Jakinson had returned rather promptly. “The are said to be dressed as firemen, but are carrying weapons. They are headed this way. The security team won’t slow them down for long.”
The statement was initially answered by shocked silence. Soon, a quiet and concerned babbling could be heard, replaced by everyone speaking their concerns all at once. People began standing up. Many began heading for the door.
Kaname smiled. Her prayers had been answered. This game would soon be over. Could those ‘firemen’ be Mithril soldiers?
“Kaname, my sweet, do not stop dancing. After all, when the Titannic was going down, the musicians continued playing.” Reginald turned to face the others, trying to project an aura of absolute calm. “There’s no need for rushing off, my friends. Where would we go, any way? The only way out is the way they are coming in. Besides, whoever they may be, no doubt they will be open to negotiations when large sums of money are involved.”
Reginald’s reassurances proved ineffective. A majority of the men and women made their way out of the room. He grew furious, beating at the table top with his fists, causing Kaname to momentarily lose her balance. “I will remember EACH AND EVERYONE OF YOU. Celia, write down all of their names. Now!”
“Time!” Celia said, looking for a pad of paper. She had lost her smile. Her eyes kept darting towards the doorway.
“Well, at least there’s THAT.” Reginald said with false bravado. His hands were trembling ever so slightly. Kaname noticed and smiled. She wasn’t the only one under stress now. “It will certainly be a treat for we sturdy few. Kaname, bra or panties?”
Kaname swallowed hard. She looked once more towards one of the giant television screens, hoping to see Sousuke down another fighter.No such luck. He was still working for position.
“Yes Kaname, please continue.” Maewe’s voice. The young woman stood in the doorway with two of her toadies. All held small handguns.
“What are YOU doing here? You were NOT invited!” Reginald spoke heatedly, so far having missed the fact that the party crashers were armed.
“You’re quite mistaken,” Maewe laughed. “I have my invitation right here.” Swinging her gun to the side, she shot Celia in the chest, never taking her eyes off of Reginald. “It’s rather tragic, but a number of people will die during this assault on our beloved clubhouse. Those invaders are rather ruthless, it seems.” Her smile was rather frightening.
“You. You can NOT be serious. My father will…” Reginald could not believe what was happening.
“Your father will likely be one of the unfortunate victims. I must admit that I got this idea from my father, who swiftly set a number of his plans in action once he learned that we were under attack.” She waved her gun in a broad arc. “Everybody against the wall. The last one there will be the next one gunned down.”
The remaining persons scrambled over one another, rushing for the relative safety of the room edges. A number of foolhearty men made a rush for the door, choosing to play the odds. They lost.
“Reginald, are your feet glued to the floor? You didn’t move.” Maewe brought her gun to bear on the sweating aristocrat.
“Maewe, you’ve taken this game too far already. Stop now, and all will be forgiven.” Reginald stammered as he spoke.
Maewe laughed. Her smile vanished quickly when she saw Reginald give a signal via eye movement. She fired her pistol while rolling on the floor, not taking notice as her two henchmen tumbled to the ground. She fired three times, one shot more than was needed. Aki and Sambo fell heavily to the floor, laying unmoving just outside the door.
“It’s wonderful having an ex-mercenary for a father. When other girls were busy learning how to braid their dollies’ hair, I was becoming adept at the use of firearms. Ah, the good old days.” She smiled a toothy smile at a quivering Reginald. “I owe you my sincerest gratitude. If I hadn’t caught your signal, Reggie, I’d probably be down there with them.” She pointed her nose at her two companions. “As a result, I’m feeling rather generous.” With that, she shot her long time rival in the knee.
With the drama in the room being more compelling than the life-and-death show playing on the TV screens, no one noticed Sousuke make his next kills. No one except for Kaname. Slowly, trying not to draw attention to herself, she picked up her blouse and skirt.
Maewe turned and looked at her. “Miss Chidori, I don’t recall telling you to get dressed. The undertaker will take care of that later, I am certain.”
“But Sousuke,” Kaname blurted out. “Two more kills….”
“What? Did any one see that?” Maewe laughed as she shot each and every television in the room. “I believe you were down to your panties.” The gun pointed at Kaname now.
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End of part 5.
The bag bounced heavily against his back. Its weight was taxing and restrictive, but he blessed that weight. The items he had packed would prove quite useful, and the weight would lessen with every trick and trap
that he set. His thoughts, likewise, were a heavy burden. But, as he thought each one, he threw it aside, no longer troubled by it. Kaname. He would think of her again if he escaped with his life. Afghanistan and countless other battlefields. Friends he’d lost, and foes he’d killed. What ever lessons they offered, he stored away. The emotional baggage he flung aside. Morality. A soldier’s honor. The code of battle. The nobility of The Cause. Those had absolutely no pertinence here and now. Life or Death. THAT was what was at stake, nothing more.
He was good at killing. It was a fact, and little else. He took no pride in his talents, but was grateful for them when the need arose. Something new stirred inside him. A challenge. Nevertheless, some part of him eagerly embraced the notion. A measuring stick. Just how good was he? Some part of him needed to know. A means to an end. Deep inside, in a part of him he never examined , a small bud on his soul grew to blossom. The enticing smell of vengeance excited him. If he made it out of the arena, someone would pay. If Kaname had been injured, they would pay with their lives.
There was no fear. Danger was his bread now. There was no worry. He was now the embodiment of Death and Inevitability. Purpose. Purpose coursed through his veins. Purpose pulsed with every beat of his heart.
Who did he face? He knew that answer. He had judged the level of threat each offered. What was the greatest threat? The woman. The sniper. If she was allowed to establish her position unchallenged---and unseen---it would only be a matter of time before he took a bullet. How would he coordinate their forces, were he on the other side? He would send the criminals and less competent out first, use them as dogs to flush out the game. They would be the hounds of Zarloff. Of course, there might be no cooperation among such men. The kill would earn the killer a pass. Their pride and sense of self-preservation would prevent them from being used to the benefit of others. No doubt, it would be every man and woman for himself or herself. Where should HE start out? Where were the optimal places to use his significant but limited resources? THAT was what he was working on now.
The lighting in the arena varied from zone to zone. Some were brightly lit, looking as if the afternoon sun lay straight overhead. Other areas were dark, practically unlit. In between, the landscape took on the look of twilight. Paths moved through each type of area. Tall structures, places of concealment, and large open stretches were equally spread throughout the arena. In the center of the large expance, a number of short and squat chimneys stood. Kilns. They were lit and operational, belching forth clouds of thick dark smoke. Even though the clouds grew thinner as they reached upward, the smoke would obscure the view of certain areas.
The arena was relatively quiet now. Soon enough, rifles, machineguns, and explosive devices would break that silence spasmodically. As he quickly ran along the paths, making certain his footprints could be seen to lead everywhere, It looks as if attendants had raked the paths after the last battle. Sousuke noticed that there were areas where the ongoing noises could serve as a cover. Old but functional conveyer belt systems from the factory were set up, moving their surfaces tirelessly. The strident panting of well worn motors was complimented by the squeaking and squealing of poorly greased pulleys and bearings. Large and small cranes and lifts were most likely operational.
The air smelt stale for the most part , but there were still lingering smells of gunpowder and others explosives. Every so often, he came to areas where the smell of blood was strong. Bodies had been removed, but large areas of blood stained the path or made grotesque splash marks on the surrounding metal, brick, and wood. The stench or rot and decay permeated some of the darker areas, where old wood and burlap lay decomposing. Some areas had a strong industrial smell, and those were the ones that Sousuke sought out first. Good. Whoever had fought here before no doubt was not given a sizeable head start, and had little time to use the environment to his or her advantage. There were a large number of full barrels of oil and gasoline products.
Grunting, his injured back spasming with pain intermittently, Sousuke opened barrels in strategic locations, spilling the contents on areas his foe would want to cross. Finished, he placed the empty containers out of site. He placed small amounts of plastic explosive near the flash points, keying their micro-detonators to a certain frequency on his trigger pad.
He checked his watch. Twelve minutes gone. Time to kick it into an even higher gear. Stopping to catch his breath, he sifted through his bag, taking stock one more. Yes. He had a good spot marked out for his anti-personnel mines and C4. Running again, he placed his remaining plastic explosive in areas where large and small items of many sorts lay precariously stacked. They would make wonderful deadfalls. Excellent. His own attempt at Rainsford’s Malay man-catcher. Finished with that task, he carefully concealed a number of particularly dangerous mines.
In the late 1990s, most of the countries of the world signed or ratified the Ottawa treaty abolishing the use of anti-personnel mines. The USA, Russia, China, and India did not sign. Sousuke’s signature was also absent from said document. All of his mines were the fruit of Mithril’s labors. Half of his stock were smaller but more deadly versions of the tried and true Claymore mine. His could be set to be triggered by sound, movement, pressure, vibrations, or remote detonation. He set each to whatever manner best suited its location. The remaining mines were jumpers, also with multiple means of triggering. Those ought to be just as surprising and as deadly as Rainsford’s Ugandan native trick. He saved two for future placement.
Finished with his traps, Sousuke ran towards one of the two ‘towers’ he wanted to explore while time remained. Seeing a number of large deep pits, he halted dead in his tracks. Was there time? He would try it and see!
One series of pits was near any area he had soaked with petrol. If he could make them look like the ground, they would be a tempting place to run for anyone trying the avoid a sudden conflagration. The selling points for his plan were a pile of large tarps and a small dumper car filled with dirt and rubbish. Sweating, and occasionally grunting in pain, Sousuke spread the tarps across the pits. He pulled hard on a lever, emptying the small wheeled hamper of its contents, which he then spread over the top of the pits. Good. It would suffice. His own version of Rainsford’s Burmese Tiger trap.
He checked his watch. Damn. If only he had ten more minutes. There was no time to check out the view from the two towering piles of materials he had narrowed his choice down to. He would have to choose one, climb it, and set himself up for his first task. That one. Not only was it the tallest, but it had a view of three out of the four tall structures on the opposite side of the arena, the area where he was told his foe would be enter the playing field. He hoped it wasn’t too unsturdy, or too difficult to exit when the time came to move.
The ‘tower’ appeared to be constructed by a haphazard stack of structures and housing from amusement parks and miniature golf establishments. It rocked and swayed as he climbed, making the ascent slower and more exciting than he had hoped for. The top of the structure consisted of a small replica of a turreted castle, sompleat with arrow slots and crenulations. That was his destination. Climbing, he noted that the set-up was not entirely random. Small metal fragments and parts of various machines and structures lay everywhere. They were easy to dislodge he found, and they made a terrible racket as they fell, bouncing off the larger metal and wood structures below.
At the top, he moved some rusted metal panels around, using them as shielding. He found his best vantage point, sat down, and took out a pair of high power binoculars. They had a built-in infrared detector, small but of some value at this distance. Almost time. He HAD to get that sniper. He MUST do it before the other members of the opposition ascertained his location and cut off his chosen escape routes.
His actions needed to be orchestrated perfectly. He needed to stay on the attack as much as possible. As soon as his choices were limited to defense alone, he was likely a goner---maybe not right away, but sooner or later.
He thought of another one of his favorite short stories, Liam O'Flaherty's The Sniper. It had pitted two snipers against one another in 1920s Dublin, at the heart of the civil war. He would not need to worry about the tragic ending in that story, where the one sniper found that the man he had killed was his brother
THE CONTEST WILL NOW COMMENCE. THE MAJOR PRIZES AND RULES HAVE BEEN ANNOUNCED. THERE IS AN ADDITIONAL PRIZE. FOR THE MAN OR WOMAN WHO KILLS SOUSUKE SAGARA, MISS SEGAWA HAS OFFERED A PURSE OF FIFTY THOUSAND EUROS. SHE WILL DOUBLE THAT AMOUNT IF MR. SAGARA’S HEAD IS DELIVERED TO HER INTACT. BEGIN.
Sousuke had visions of the movie version of The Most Dangerous Game, namely the scene with Zaroff's grisly trophy room. He knew what Kurz would have said had he been there with him. Sousuke old chum, try not to lose your head.. He grimaced. Would Kurz and Melissa get there in time? Could he pull this off alone if they did not?
************************************************************
Kaname’s head was spinning. First, the near death experience with Maewe. That total nut case! Second, being shown amongst Reginald’s wealthy friend as if she were some kind of trophy. Sousuke’s girl. Reginald’s special ‘guest.’ And then, the announcement. Money offered for Sousuke’s death. And his head!!! This all reminded her of a television show she came to enjoy while staying in America---this was like something out of The Twilight Zone. That alone had her worried. That show was NOT known for happy endings.
“Kaname dearest, what do you think of this room? My father had it made up for me last year, sparing no expense. The wood is all endangered, smuggled out of each and every rainforest on the globe. Most of the species are banned, but they polish up so beautifully, don’t you agree? What good is wood in trees? Who sees it there?” The cronies all nodded their heads or vocalized their agreement. Many had made it a point to buy paneling for their own homes made of similar woods. Reginald paid them little head, running through various camera angles on the large wall-mounted television. “Of course, it will mean you’ll have to dance shoeless. That’s a shame, actually. When shoes are the only thing a woman wears, its so very enticing.”
Reginald’s soft almost calm voice had coaxed Kaname into speaking. “Actually, I’m not much of a dancer. Two left feet I’m afraid. So, the table will be quite safe. I’ll just sit here with you, watching the show.” She hated using that word. This was no show to her.
“Well, I must say that I am rather disappointed. That leaves me with only two choices. I suppose it would be unkind to simply return you to Miss Segawa---I absolutely hate doing anything that she likes. No, it would be better to loan you to my friends as a party favor, so to speak. That means you will miss the show, since we can’t have all that grunting and moaning interrupting the audio feed. What a shame. All of these screens are 80” Samsungs, the largest Plasma TVs in the world. You would have just loved watching the picture while you danced.”
“Y-you have been such a charming host and rescuer, that I would hate to disappoint you.” Kaname flinched, realizing just how desperate she sounded. “If my dancing would make up for your inconvenience, it would be rude of me to refuse.”
“Ah! I knew I had judged you correctly. What a fortunate man Sousuke is, to have such a wonderful woman while he lived. Please, step up onto the table.” He called his hangers-on, knowing they would be heartbroken to be excluded from the spectacle. “I’ve sent Celia into my on-site CD selection to find some suitable music. I suggested a bolero or three. I do have a couple of CDs of belly-dancing tunes, if you prefer that….”
“Oh yes! A dance of the Seven Veils!” One of the toadies was getting overly excited.
“What? Please try NOT to be so moronic,” Reginald retorted. “Please take yourself off the premises, your very ignorance unsettles me.” He turned to talk to Kaname as two attendants dragged the babbling man away. “The dance of the Seven Veils is only associated with belly dancing by the unlettered and the uncouth. Oscar Wilde’s play fictitiously had her do such a dance, but it was not meant to be seductive, as your dance will be. Right? Richard Strauss’s opera did make the dance provocative for its day, as barely clad women of Middle Eastern descent were popular in the pornography of the time. Women of oriental descent can be quite fetching too, can they not?” His look left no doubt that he expected an answer.
“Uh…yes, they can.” Kaname felt as if she were about to break out in sweat.
“Oh! I should apologize. How utterly insensitive of me. I NEVER should have mentioned Salome. I hope you can forgive me.” Reginald did not look in the slightest bit remorseful.
“Forgive you?” Kaname, looking down at him from the table, was perplexed. What was he talking about?
“Yes. As you know, Salome was the daughter of Herodias, sister-in-law to Herod, with whom she had an adulterous affair. They divorced their spouses so they could marry, their act condemned by John The Baptist. When Salome danced for Herod, he was so moved, he said he would give her anything she asked for. She wanted John The Baptist’s head, and it was delivered to her on a tray. What with Maewe’s challenge and all….” He hid a smile behind his hand. “But enough talk. The hunt has commenced. So too should the dance begin. Let’s make this fun. For every minute that passes, you will remove one more article of clothing. When Sousuke kills an opponent, you may chose to put one garment back on---if you so choose." He clapped his hands together, as if ordering a servant or a slave. "If you please.”
Kaname began to dance, not feeling the slightest bit excited to be doing a tantalizing act in front of men. Sousuke. You BETTER kill them all fast. VERY fast!!! Her thought shocked her. She was uneasy wishing for the deaths of others, even if they were all bad men and women. But, she reminded herself it’s them or Sousuke. She wanted Sousuke to live. Yes. She regained some of her spunk, and put the energy into her dance. If you live, but take your time, you are going to wish you HAD died!!!
************************************************************
“Madame Captain, it appears that we have a problem.” Lt. Cmdr. Kalinin held the written transcripts given to him by Lt. Concepcion. “Miss Chidori became embroiled in a heated conflict with Miss Segawa. At some point, her microphone ceased to transmit useful material. We have waited an appropriate period of time with no change.”
“I see. Has she been severely injured? Do we know why the transmissions changed so drastically?” Tessa put down her half empty can of chilled coffee. “What was the latest information pertinent to Sgt. Sagara, prior to the end of transmissions?” Her eyes grew very intense.
“We have no way of knowing Miss Chidori’s condition. Our best guess is that the microphone was damaged or knocked some place inconsequential. The latter could have occurred while it was attached to the wearer, of course. As for the sergeant, we have no way of knowing when his fight was to start, or whether it is currently underway.” Mr. Kalinin did not show the slightest hin of concern or annoyance. It was as if he were carved from a block of solid granite. He did not verbalize his final thought. We do not know whether or not Sgt. Sagara remains alive.
“That does present us with a problem. What do you suggest, Mr. Kalinin? How long would it take for our fine fire fighters to infiltrate the premises?” Tessa referred to the ground troops, dressed in actual firemens’ uniforms supplied promptly by one of their contacts in the JSDF. The presence of a small fire and a disproportionately large cloud of smoke provided a suitable strategem.
“Once the signal is given, it should take no more than ten minutes for enough of them to make their way to strategic locations within the main buildings. Other men, dressed in street clothes or police uniforms have all of the obvious escape routes covered. I would recommend that we start the operation immediately.” The Lt. Cmdr. Accepted a cup of tea from the petite young woman. “Once we have word from our infiltration group, I would suggest that we send the assault troops in through blast points in the roof. At the same time, we should send the Arm Slaves in. We have a number of vans, buses, and trucks ready. Our guests will be moved to suitable locations as soon as they are extracted.”
“That approach seems reasonable, Mr. Kalinin. Please see that it is implemented as soon as possible.”
“Certainly, Madame Captain. May I make use of your intercom?”
“Yes.”
The operation was set in motion.
************************************************************
Sousuke had manhandled the heavy HK PSG-1 into place, making use of its tripod. The gun might be a chore to carry, but it was a dream to shoot. Highly accurate. Semi-automatic. No need to work bolt action. It might not be Kurz Weber’s gun of choice, but it suited the younger sergeant just fine.
He placed a number of 5-round clips of 7.62 on the ground within easy reach. Timing, enemy speed and pattern of advance, and his level of succes would determine how many of the clips he would use. He might not remain at this height for too long once the exchange of fire started. He made certain to conceal all motion behind solid walls. He made no noise. His heat signature should be well-contained.
Movement. To the left. Down low, at ground level. He marked the man’s position and progress, but kept his eye out for activity higher up. The man did not carry anything other than an assault rifle. He could wait. The sniper, Miss Van Den Broeck, must be located. He refused to believe that she would join in on the frontal assault without trying to make use of her skill as a sniper.
More movement. Another man at ground level, this time to the right. No rocket launchers or RPGs. He would be ignored for now, too.
Even more movement. Another man. Those three were not subtle. They acted as if they believed they were under good cover, but they were not. They moved slowly and cautiously, but they were the first enemy seen. No doubt they were the non-professionals and criminals. They let their desire to make the kill---and their mistaken belief that they had what it takes to be successful---lead them into a precarious situation. They should have followed the more capable men, watching, learning, and taking advantage of their combat instincts. Soon enough, they would pay for their inexperience and rash decisions.
A fourth man drew attention to himself, peering from around a stack of tires. He did not pay attention to the environment. He had kicked up a large cloud of dust, giving away his position. Suddenly, he made a dash for cover, running low behind a large row of crates. He stopped in the shadow of one of the deadfalls. Sousuke removed his remote. This would not give away his position. He pushed switch #6, exploding the C4, causing the multi-ton structure of metal parts to fall into the area the man had chosen for his sanctuary. No chance for survival there. One down. Nine to go. At least out here.
The crash of steel upon steel echoed about the arena. The three visible men all threw themselves underneath the nearest cover. One man realized his mistake too late. The smell of petrol was ever so strong. When Sousuke flipped switch #3, the small explosive ignited the fuel-saturated ground, setting a large area ablaze. Screaming, the man barely fell out of the inferno, covered from head to toe with greedy flame. He stopped moving soon thereafter. Two down.
It was not a loud sound at that distance. But it was distinctive. Metal bouncing off of metal, multiple times. It spoke of height. It gave an idea of direction. It allowed Sousuke to be looking at just the right place at just the right time. He realized just how fortunate he had been. The woman had not gone for one of the highest vantage points. She had chosen a mid-level mound with good coverage. No doubt she was going to be patient, allowing the men to flush her quarry into view. All she needed to do was crawl into position. She had chosen to start moving during the noisy collapse of the deadfall. Clever. She should have waited for another masking noise.
She had made a mistake, or had simply been bitten by misfortune. There was no antidote. Swinging his rifle around promptly and sighting precisely, Sousuke fired three shots in rapid succession. He saw the woman’s head jerk back abruptly. That should have been a hit. She should have had no inkling to move her head like that voluntarily. Her hand lay sprawled over the edge of the mound. I am NOT a corporate head. I am a SPECIALIST. His mind flashed back to the happenings in The Sniper. The victor had played dead, and had slumped his arm into plain view, tricking his unwary opponent. Unlikely. The first bullet would have gotten there before the first retort did. If I missed, then I deserve to die. Three down.
Things were going better than he had expected. He would not be cocky, however. There could still be another sniper, for all he knew. Or someone willing to watch and wait. An opponent need not be a top marksman to get lucky. He could track his team’s position….watch his fellow combatants fall…and take out Sousuke when the moment was right. He would need to plan his movements accordingly, as best he could. This is nothing unique. It is just like other battles he had been in. If anything, he had been in greater danger in the past against more desperate and more skilled opponents.
Those first two men had obviously not understood just what had happened, from a tactical viewpoint. After the loud noises had ceased, and they had regained their courage, each had renewed his advance. They did not appear to be wearing anything bulky. Likely they did not have body armor. Heart shots should suffice.
Two shots. Two more kills. Five down. Nothing else visible. My position is no doubt compromised now. Time to move.
Sousuke reached into his bag and withdrew three smoke grenades. He tossed them some distance in front of his ‘tower.’ When the smoke had created enough cover, he shouldered his bag and climbed carefully to the ground.
Time to get up close and personal.
************************************************************
Kaname continued to dance. She closed her eyes, trying to picture herself somewhere else, with someone else. She opened her eyes every so often, whenever thrown money bounced off of her. A number of people in the crowd were hooting or clapping rhythmically. A number kept yelling “Take…it…off…bay-beeee!”
Sousuke was sure taking his time getting started! She had already been obliged to remove her blouse and skirt. Why did I chose today, of all days, to go out without socks or stockings. The ankle bracelets did NOT count. Kaname was getting uncomfortably close to the unbearable, followed not too thereafter by the unthinkable. When Sousuke collapsed the large structure on one hapless enemy, she felt a chill wave of relief pass through her. She put her blouse back on. Not too much later, another opponent met a fiery demise. On went the blouse. “You GO Sousuke!!!” she yelled, surprising herself.
The men in the little assembly let out a collective sigh. Some of the women clapped or smirked.
“Ah, just when it was getting interesting,” Reginald chirped, not seeming in the least bit concerned. He could afford to be patient. “But, good things are worth waiting for, are they not, Kaname love?”
Kaname felt her skin creep at his choice of words. Just what did she have to look forward to? She stopped that train of thought swiftly. As long as she was alive---and Sousuke was still breathing---there was reason to hope. Right?
“If Sousuke kills another man while I’m fully dressed, do I get a rain check?” Kaname felt bold enough to speak up, shocked at the casual manner in which she asked her question.
On the large screen TVs, Sousuke could be seen firing three shots. The camera perspective quickly switched, showing the effect that 7.62 rounds had on a woman’s head.
“I must apologize, but that certainly would NOT be sporting. If you feel the need to blame someone, blame young mister Sagara. He appears to be much too talented to bet against.” Reginald laughed, his mood soon picked up upon by his guests and servants.
SOUSUKE! Kaname thought. I’ll blame you alright. JUST YOU WAIT…. She stumbled, her calf muscles beginning to tighten up. Softball, swimming, and other physical activities had not prepared her for this.
“Dear me. I DO hope you can keep on dancing, Kaname. If not, you will have plenty of time to rest those pretty legs, flat on your back.” Reginald made no attempt to hide his amusement. The crowd began chanting his name. He stood and took a bow. More whistling and hooting ensued, punctuated by the sound of wine glasses clicking against one another.
Sousuke chose two more targets. Two more lives were promptly erased. The camera operator zoomed in quickly, planning on showing the resultant carnage. The crowd was disappointed. There was far too little visible bodily injury to suit their taste. Where was the unspeakable thrill in simply seeing two men fall lifeless to the ground. One might as well watch longshoremen toss sacks of potatoes around. The death by immolation had set the bar fairly high.
Reginald, after sending one crony to bring in fresh trays of finger foods and beverages, took time to say “There he goes again, Kaname. If he was as good a lover as he is a killer, you were quite a lucky young lady.”
Kaname could not help herself. She missed a step, and her foot slid perilously close to a table edge. Her blush would make a beet seem bloodless. The “lover” had caught her more off guard than the “were” unnerved her. Her dancing continued. The seconds seemed like hours.
“Time!” Celia called out after another minute.
“What will it be, Kaname dearest? Blouse or skirt?” Reginald smiled. “Don’t let the pace slow you down, though. Feel free to take off as much as you want as soon as you are ready. No matter, it appears that your boyfriend is moving rather cautiously now. Good for him. Better for us.”
Kaname let her skirt fall to the table top. Damn you, Reginald. DAMN YOU, SOUSUKE!!!
“Oh, and Kaname, wiggle those delicious hips more, if you will. It gets the juices flowing in a most enjoyable way. The battle feels so much more primal, mixing bloodlust with erotica.” Reginald’s ‘request’ was met with shouts of glee.
Kaname came dangerously close to refusing or making and inadvisable smart ass remark. She caught herself just in time. The result of such a misstep leaft little to the imagination.
There was the sound of a significant disturbance outside of their cozy room.
“What IS that inconsiderate rabble up to?” Reginald asked, distracted. “Aki, Sambo, do go see what all of the hubbub is about. Be quick about it!”
The noise grew louder. People could be seen running past the doorway, jostling for position. “Where are those fools?” Reginald said to no one in particular. “Jakinson, you find out the answer. GO!” He snapped his fingers and a heavy set balding man walked quickly from the room.
“Time!” Celia laughed, a small kernel of concern crooking her smile.
“Kaname, blouse.” Reginald’s words were cut short by his unease.
Kaname was beginning to grow more angry than embarrassed. She was growing rather tired of all the indignities. She squirreled away every slight and insult. Somebody would pay.
“Mr. Smithers, there are intruders in the building.” Jakinson had returned rather promptly. “The are said to be dressed as firemen, but are carrying weapons. They are headed this way. The security team won’t slow them down for long.”
The statement was initially answered by shocked silence. Soon, a quiet and concerned babbling could be heard, replaced by everyone speaking their concerns all at once. People began standing up. Many began heading for the door.
Kaname smiled. Her prayers had been answered. This game would soon be over. Could those ‘firemen’ be Mithril soldiers?
“Kaname, my sweet, do not stop dancing. After all, when the Titannic was going down, the musicians continued playing.” Reginald turned to face the others, trying to project an aura of absolute calm. “There’s no need for rushing off, my friends. Where would we go, any way? The only way out is the way they are coming in. Besides, whoever they may be, no doubt they will be open to negotiations when large sums of money are involved.”
Reginald’s reassurances proved ineffective. A majority of the men and women made their way out of the room. He grew furious, beating at the table top with his fists, causing Kaname to momentarily lose her balance. “I will remember EACH AND EVERYONE OF YOU. Celia, write down all of their names. Now!”
“Time!” Celia said, looking for a pad of paper. She had lost her smile. Her eyes kept darting towards the doorway.
“Well, at least there’s THAT.” Reginald said with false bravado. His hands were trembling ever so slightly. Kaname noticed and smiled. She wasn’t the only one under stress now. “It will certainly be a treat for we sturdy few. Kaname, bra or panties?”
Kaname swallowed hard. She looked once more towards one of the giant television screens, hoping to see Sousuke down another fighter.No such luck. He was still working for position.
“Yes Kaname, please continue.” Maewe’s voice. The young woman stood in the doorway with two of her toadies. All held small handguns.
“What are YOU doing here? You were NOT invited!” Reginald spoke heatedly, so far having missed the fact that the party crashers were armed.
“You’re quite mistaken,” Maewe laughed. “I have my invitation right here.” Swinging her gun to the side, she shot Celia in the chest, never taking her eyes off of Reginald. “It’s rather tragic, but a number of people will die during this assault on our beloved clubhouse. Those invaders are rather ruthless, it seems.” Her smile was rather frightening.
“You. You can NOT be serious. My father will…” Reginald could not believe what was happening.
“Your father will likely be one of the unfortunate victims. I must admit that I got this idea from my father, who swiftly set a number of his plans in action once he learned that we were under attack.” She waved her gun in a broad arc. “Everybody against the wall. The last one there will be the next one gunned down.”
The remaining persons scrambled over one another, rushing for the relative safety of the room edges. A number of foolhearty men made a rush for the door, choosing to play the odds. They lost.
“Reginald, are your feet glued to the floor? You didn’t move.” Maewe brought her gun to bear on the sweating aristocrat.
“Maewe, you’ve taken this game too far already. Stop now, and all will be forgiven.” Reginald stammered as he spoke.
Maewe laughed. Her smile vanished quickly when she saw Reginald give a signal via eye movement. She fired her pistol while rolling on the floor, not taking notice as her two henchmen tumbled to the ground. She fired three times, one shot more than was needed. Aki and Sambo fell heavily to the floor, laying unmoving just outside the door.
“It’s wonderful having an ex-mercenary for a father. When other girls were busy learning how to braid their dollies’ hair, I was becoming adept at the use of firearms. Ah, the good old days.” She smiled a toothy smile at a quivering Reginald. “I owe you my sincerest gratitude. If I hadn’t caught your signal, Reggie, I’d probably be down there with them.” She pointed her nose at her two companions. “As a result, I’m feeling rather generous.” With that, she shot her long time rival in the knee.
With the drama in the room being more compelling than the life-and-death show playing on the TV screens, no one noticed Sousuke make his next kills. No one except for Kaname. Slowly, trying not to draw attention to herself, she picked up her blouse and skirt.
Maewe turned and looked at her. “Miss Chidori, I don’t recall telling you to get dressed. The undertaker will take care of that later, I am certain.”
“But Sousuke,” Kaname blurted out. “Two more kills….”
“What? Did any one see that?” Maewe laughed as she shot each and every television in the room. “I believe you were down to your panties.” The gun pointed at Kaname now.
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End of part 5.
Strip show, huh... I'm not sure it quite makes
I like!!