Adventures in Parodyverse: The Knight’s Fall Part 1


    Antony Vendredi stood over Chiaki Bushido, waiting, daring her to make another brave remark.  He wore leather gloves, so he had no intention of putting his death curse on her.  Not yet, anyway.

    â€œI’m going to say this one more time.  You work for me now,”  he said, his covered fists clenched, daring her to speak up again, so he could hurt her again.  He enjoyed hurting her, or anyone for that matter.  Only practice gave him the control to curb those tendencies.  Killing everyone who angered him right away wasn’t terribly productive.

    Her Psychic Samurai pseudonym failed her that day.  Her ‘sense’ knows how she would be hit, but her gift unfortunately does not respect the rules of time.  Chiaki must always use her own judgement of it to figure out how much warning she has.  And this time, judging by his appearance alone, she did not expect him to be so inhumanly fast or strong.

    As she slowly rose against the aching all over her body, retrieving her sheathed sword carelessly dropped on the floor, she knew then that any further words from her would result in her death.  Any words.  She could see the anger boiling over in his eyes.  So she fell back on a familiar expression of resignation.  She cast her eyes down, refusing to meet his gaze.

    And then, afraid to turn her back as if expecting to be ambushed, she slowly stepped backwards, most of the way out of his office, until she reached the hallway.  Then she wanted to get out of there, as fast as she could, even as the pain attempted to slow her down.

    True terror, something she hadn’t felt in a long time, carried her all the way to her car.  Once inside, she shut the door, then lowered her forehead to the top of the leather bound steering wheel, and whimpered quietly.  She looked sideways at her sword, almost carelessly tossed over the passenger seat, and briefly considered going straight to the hospital.  But there was someone else she knew could help her.  Not just with the pain...with everything.


---


    It was warm and windy in Los Angeles when Lara Night went outside, heavy black duffel bag slung over her shoulder, dressed in casual jeans, suede laced boots, and a black t-shirt with a silver and blue logo.  Her blonde hair tossed in the breeze as she moved far enough into the middle of her backyard Japanese garden to be away from anything sensitive.

    She didn’t really need to do that, but she subconsciously feared the large electrical discharge when she zapped out for a long journey might fry something in or around her house.  At the destination there would be less risk, because she’d know if she broke something.  Here, it would stay broken for weeks or months before she noticed.

    Before leaving, she took a deep breath, and felt her hands trembling.  It wasn’t so much the journey, as the destination that frightened her, with good reason.

    The last thing she remembered from visiting the Lair Legion, she was in a limousine headed from the Lair Mansion to Paradopolis City Hall, where she was scheduled to speak at a press conference about the warden of the Safe pursuing her on murder charges for killing the Doorman during an escape attempt.

    Somehow, that very same warden got word of it, and intercepted her limo on the way.  His men held the driver at gunpoint and ordered everyone out.  The driver resisted, his window was shattered, and he was tased.

    Furious, Lara emerged from the back seat.  The same man who tased the driver tried to do the same to her, only it was futile in her case.  She returned the favor, lightning from her fingers seizing his muscles until he collapsed.

    She remembered the warden himself pointing the barrel of a shotgun inches from her face, and with a scowl, pulling the trigger.  Even with an energy shield, it still hurt.  It was like being punched in the head once by a professional boxer.

    As she lay on the ground, dizzy and groaning, at least five of his officers piled on top of her and handcuffed her, and then pulled her viciously to her feet even as she was barely able to stand.

    â€œThere’s going to be no press conference,”  the warden said.  “You’ll be safely locked away in Super--”

    He didn’t finish that sentence, because Yuki Shiro leapt into the air and punched him downward on the head, and he fell to the ground with a ‘thud’.  The other corrections officers turned to face her next.

    â€œBring it.”  Yuki said coldly, fists raised.

    â€œWait,”  Lara whispered in a wavering voice.  “Wait.  Stop.  I surrender.”

    â€œLara, you don’t have to do that!”  Yuki told her.

    The blonde gave at the purple-haired Legionnaire a sightly teary smile.  “I have a plan.  Tell everyone that I’m sorry.”

    â€œWhat?  Wait!”  Yuki called out.

    By the time she finished those two words, Lara had vanished into thin air.

    A long time had passed since she left Yuki standing there.  Lara felt worried about what happened after she vanished that day, but leaving enough time was the only way to make sure the heat was really off before she attempted a return.  She hoped things didn’t turn out too badly.

    Lara’s journey across universes brought her a different perspective this time.  After that run-in with Dark Thugos, and what was probably a very odd bonding with the Chronicler of Stories, she felt like there were virtual eyes on her this time as she entered the Parodyverse.  But she wasn’t particularly worried about those eyes, just yet.

    She arrived in front of the Lair Mansion.  There were patches of early snow, and the chill of the late evening darkening sky promised more by dawn.  The cold wind urged her to get inside.

    Ignoring the stunulators, since they had no effect on her anyhow, she tapped on the door of the Mansion.  A very surprised Flapjack answered, and shrieked at a very high pitch at the sight of her.  He learned early on to save his lewd comments and leering for when she wasn’t looking at him directly.  She tended to sulk and stop speaking to him when he did that to her face.  And she was very nice to him, so that kind of silent treatment made him unhappy.

    After he insisted on escorting her to her room, she thanked him and shut the door.  Flapjack ran a good distance away to get all of the leering and comments out of his system, in Yuki’s presence instead, simultaneously informing the purple-haired Legionnaire that Lara had returned.

    The blonde tossed her bag onto the dresser, quietly greeting the familiar room that Yuki had kindly saved for her upon her return.  It was a simple room, but she loved it because it was a compilation of kindness from her alternate universe friends.  

    It originally came with just a bed, a nightstand, a dresser, and a wardrobe.  A desk and chair was added by Yuki, and oddly enough, a throw rug supplied by Sir Mumphrey Wilton from his personal collection.  Though she still wasn’t entirely sure how, Liu Xi Xian added a private bathroom where there originally was none.

    Her trip down memory lane ended with a sigh, because it reminded her that the time for quiet reflection had passed.  She had been gone for a long time, and she had apologies to make for her absence.  

    She wouldn’t have to wait long, as there was a gentle tap at her door a moment later.

    Lara opened the door to her room at the Lair Mansion, and standing on the other side was a Japanese woman she knew as Chiaki Bushido.  Known by others as the Psychic Samurai, she always managed to hover somewhere between scary and sweet, fashionable and tough.  That day, she wore a black loose fitting shirt with a red design that made it look vaguely like a dress, probably designed that way because it was so long, jeans, and nearly knee high black leather boots.

    But Chiaki Bushido was far less than intimidating at that moment.  She collapsed almost on top of Lara.  The blonde was just about to ask what was wrong when it hit her.

    Her innate healing ability had an occasionally awful down side.  As soon as she touched the Samurai, she could feel the pain that Chiaki was feeling, only more distant, like felt during a dream.  She groaned too at the sudden sensation of it, because she hadn’t prepared herself.

    In spite of the pain, though, a lot of practice helping people allowed Lara to diagnose things like this quickly, she could tell the difference between slight and severe injuries.  In this case, she was able to reassure the Asian a bit.

    â€œYou’re just bruised.  Very…badly bruised.”  Lara told her, pressing her fingertips against the side of Chiaki’s neck to transfer some of what was left of her energy after the trip from home to Chiaki to calm the pain.  It had the somewhat selfish side effect of curbing her own sensation of it as well.

    It wasn’t the physical injury that caused such weakness on Chiaki’s part, though.  She wasn’t just hurt, she was broken.  Lara knew that because as soon as Chiaki stumbled she let herself fall to her knees on the floor, and she began sobbing.  Shame led her to try and hide her face from the blonde, behind her hands and long hair.

    â€œWhat’s wrong?”  Lara asked, sitting on the carpet beside her.  She left quite a long time after her question, gently rubbing Chiaki’s back to soothe her, for the Samurai to calm down enough to speak clearly.

    â€œVendredi has destroyed Akiko’s organization, and it is my fault,”  she whispered sadly.  “Akiko asked my help...to work again as an enforcer...but she was too proud to tell me why.  She was under siege.”

    Lara’s eyes widened at hearing that.  “Is...Akiko okay?”

    Chiaki nodded, and tearfully replied,  “She escaped, with her most faithful assistants, and she is hiding out.  All of her lower level minions are either dead, or fled to Japan.  I heard that he was going to hunt for her, so I went to see him.”

    â€œWhat can I do?”  Lara asked.

    Finally, the Psychic Samurai tried to dry her eyes on a tissue the blonde handed her.  “You helped me by curbing the pain.  More is a lot to ask right now.”

    â€œWhy were you going to see him?”  Lara asked.

    â€œTo plead for Akiko’s life,”  Chiaki answered.  “I failed her, but I did not want her to die.  He said ‘you work for me now’.  I told him I work for no one, and then he hit me...hit me really hard...and repeated himself.  I thought it best just to leave quietly.”

    â€œWe should tell Hatman,”  Lara suggested.

    â€œNo,”  Chiaki emphatically disagreed.  “No, promise me you won’t tell him.”

    â€œWhy not?”

    The Samurai looked a little pained and embarrassed explaining this next part.  “Vendredi puts a lot of money into the Foundation.  He pays a girl named Alyssa to go to every Foundation event and get Hatman’s attention.”

    â€œHe’s setting up Hatty to own him, too.”  Lara considered.  “To threaten to take away his most favorite thing, and even break his heart with a girl if possible.”

    â€œAnd I can’t even get between them to prevent it.”  Chiaki shook her head sadly.  “Because I would only look like a jealous ex-girlfriend.”

    â€œWell, you are a jealous ex-girlfriend,”  Lara joked.

    Chiaki’s smile came back briefly, and she chuckled ever so slightly.  “You always can make me laugh,”  she said.  “That is why I talked to you first.  I needed some cheering up in my moment of darkness.”

    â€œI have a friend back home that you remind me of,”  Lara told her.  “Except she’s the one who makes me laugh.  She’s also kind of tough, like you, but really soft and sensitive on the inside, like you.”

    The Psychic Samurai briefly smiled again.  “I suppose I can be grateful that you see right through me.”

    â€œSo what are you going to do about Vendredi?”  Lara asked.

    Chiaki shrugged.  “See what sort of work he has in mind for me.  Secretly screw it up so that it undermines him.”

    â€œI can try to keep Hatty from falling for that girl,”  Lara said.

    â€œYour job is going to be more difficult than mine,”  Chiaki pointed out with a slight laugh.

    â€œNah, he trusts me.  I’ll just tell him I feel like there’s something wrong about her.”

    â€œBe careful,”  Chiaki whispered.  “He may trust you, but Alyssa has a much larger chest than you do.”

    â€œOh.”  Lara smiled slowly.  “Now you’re being funny.”

    The Samurai smiled, and tried hard not to laugh again, because it hurt.  Her phone chirped, and her smile disappeared, only to be replaced with more sadness, when she looked at the text message.

    â€œIt’s Vendredi, isn’t it?”

    Chiaki nodded slowly, and closed her eyes as she tried to settle herself so she wouldn’t cry again.

    â€œNow don’t do that,”  Lara instructed her.  “You’re the strongest person I know.  Strongest, most focused, and with the coolest gift anyone can imagine.  Use it.  Use it all, find Vendredi’s weakess, and bring him down.”

    â€œYou sound like Ninja,”  Chiaki pointed out.

    â€œThen be Ninja,”  the blonde urged her.  “Be Ninja, and show him real power.  You don’t have to kill him.  Just teach him to stay away from you.”

    Chiaki took a long, deep breath, and sighed.  “A part of me hoped you would just electrocute him to death.”

    Lara smiled at her.  “You told me once that the dead learn nothing.”
    
    The Samurai closed her eyes again, and nodded at the truth of that.

    â€œI’ll be here to back you up,”  Lara told her.  “I’m not going anywhere until you’re safe.  If you can’t break him, I will.  But I think you need this.”

    The Asian nodded again.  “Thank you.  I think that’s what I needed to hear.”

    Chiaki then picked up her sword, and stood.  She looked at the text message again.  Vendredi was ordering her to collect protection money.  And then it occurred to her...his weaknesses were everywhere.  With every job he sent her on, she would find enemies of his, and give them strength.  When she came for him, they all would.  And he would be finished.  Maybe not his life, but his business, his entire world.

    The Samurai headed out into the hallway, giving a slight nod to Yuki as she crossed the purple-haired Legionnaire’s path.  The Legionnaire was trying to make a theme of that color, as her clothing was entirely purple leather at the moment, including gloves.

    â€œAre you okay?”  Yuki asked.  “I overheard a little.”

    Chiaki nodded quietly.  “I suffered a humiliation, but I will pay it back a dozen times.”

    The detective frowned.  “You know, they say that that revenge has no end.  Are you sure you don’t want to tell Hatman?”

    â€œNo.  He must not know.  He will do something rash, and get himself hurt.”

    Yuki nodded.  “You’re probably right, but so are you.  Don’t try to handle this alone, I gave you that Lair Legion Comm Card for a reason.  You get in trouble, you call, and a freaking army will follow.”

    Chiaki nodded again.

    Being well versed in Chiaki’s tendency to placate people with a nod, Yuki wanted to make sure.  “No, don’t just nod at me, promise.”

    The Asian started to nod again, but then switched to saying, “I promise.”

    After that, Yuki finally let her go, and hoped that Chiaki would actually listen and keep herself out of trouble.  The Samurai could be headstrong sometimes, always insisting on tackling things by herself.  Though she had a huge success record doing that, it could only take once to be brought down.

    Speaking of trouble, she thought as she entered Lara’s still-open room.  She saw the blonde setting up a few small stuffed toys on the nightstand.  “Tell me you’re not living up to that stereotype.”

    â€œWhat?”  Lara asked, sounding unsure of what Yuki meant.

    â€œYou know, cute blonde.  Stuffed animals that go everywhere with you.”

    â€œOh.”  The blonde laughed.  “Those were already here, I just didn’t want them on the bed.”

    The purple-haired cyborg smiled, and then she took one large step forward to hug Lara briefly, and then quickly let go.  The leather Yuki wore squeaked during the hug.  “Don’t tell anyone I did that,”  she said. 

    Lara nodded.  “I’ve been here less than an hour, and I already have two things I can’t tell anyone about.”

    â€œSpeaking of, why did you come here first instead of seeing Hatty?”

    That made Lara’s smile disappear quickly.  “I left without saying goodbye to him.  I…really don’t know how he’ll feel about that.  I don’t know what to say to him.”

    CrazySugarFreakboy!, by that point, had heard Flapjack’s extended lewd commentary about Lara’s return, and decided on that particular time to drop by and interrupt the conversation between her and Yuki.  It was easy for him to interrupt, because both of them were baffled that he was wearing only a bathrobe, that was thankfully tied up, and slippers.

    â€œDon’t say anything,”  he advised.  “Just bang him really good.  Nothing says ‘I miss you’ better than that.”

    Without responding to his comment, Lara hugged him quickly, standing on her toes slightly.  When she let go, she re-processed his comment in her mind, and shook her head.

    â€œThough I guess a hug would be a good start, too,”  he corrected.

    Then she joked, “I’m so far out of practice, Dream, it’s just as likely he’d think I was trying to kill him as say ‘I miss you’.”

    He shrugged, and played along.  “How do you know he won’t like that?”

    Lara shrugged, because though he was joking…she didn’t know the answer to that for sure.  Hatman was a good friend, but those sort of topics were really difficult to discuss with him.  She forgot, though, that CSFB! had a sort of radar which zoomed right in to when someone was trying to avoid a topic.

    â€œDon’t tell me he never talked about his sexual likes with you,”  he pointedly responded.

    â€œDream, she just got here.”  Yuki scolded.  “Can’t you give her a break?  For a day, at least?”

    â€œNo, it’s okay.”  Lara nodded.  “If having to leave suddenly taught me something, it’s to not leave lingering questions.”

    The blonde turned her attention to CSFB!.  “No, he never did.”

    â€œThat sucks.”  Dream sighed.  “How are you supposed to help him find a girlfriend if he won’t tell you what he likes?”

    After the teasing about ‘banging him’ earlier in the conversation, Lara didn’t even consider that CSFB! was being serious, and that he had a serious motivation for wanting her to have that kind of information from Hatman.

    â€œI…wouldn’t even know how to ask him without freaking him out, honestly.”  Lara told him.

    â€œWell, you should,”  he insisted.  “Because after you left, he threw his heart and soul into the Foundation.  Which is cool, except he’s doing nothing else.  He doesn’t date, he barely even talks to girls he doesn’t work with.”

    Yuki nodded.  “He kind of has been depressed.  Even though he doesn’t want to admit it.”

    â€œI…didn’t think I hurt him that badly.”  Lara replied distantly.

    â€œHe feels like he’s cursed or something, with every girl in his life taking off on him.  so he’s keeping his distance.”

    â€œOh, man.”  Lara sat down on the edge of the bed, and placed her face in her hands.  “I never should have left without saying something to him.”

    â€œEasy fix, though—”  Dream started to say.

    Yuki interrupted him.  “If you use the words ‘bang him’ again, I swear I’m going to punch you.”

    â€œNooo.”  Dream said in an exaggerated manner, “I mean he’s not dead, so say something now.  He’s always at the Foundation, so he’s easy to find.”

    Lara nodded, and stood again.  “Okay, I’ll go.  Yuki, could you please let everyone else know I’m here?”

    â€œWill do.”  Yuki agreed.

    â€œThanks, Dream, for helping me find the words,”  Lara said.

    And then, in a flash of light, she was gone.

    â€œShe’s still so cute,”  CSFB! commented.
    
    â€œSure, okay.”  Yuki said.  “Just remember what you promised Hatty.”

    He sighed sadly.  “Yeah, I do.”

    â€œWhat’s with the bathrobe, anyway?”  Yuki asked him finally.

    â€œI was going to take a bath!”  he explained plainly.

    â€œOf course.”  Yuki rolled her eyes and walked past him.


—-


    The Psychic Samurai drove her bright red Jaguar right up to a restaurant storefront in downtown Paradopolis.  She parked in front of two meters, ignoring them both.  Her gift told her that there would be no parking enforcement there for quite a while.

    Trying to feign as much confidence as she could muster, she grabbed her sword, its sheath all black with a red dragon painted on it, and climbed out onto the dimly lit street.  She calmly approached the front door of the restaurant.  

    The door was locked, but she knew it was a game the owners played with collectors, as she could see people moving inside in the near darkness.  So she tapped on the glass.  There was no response.  The second time, she tapped harder on the glass.  

    â€œPlease let me in,”  she said quietly, but loud enough to be heard through the glass.

    Appealing to their conscience appeared to have worked.  An older, overweight man wearing a chef’s uniform and a stained apron unlocked the door with a ‘click’, and then stepped aside to allow her to enter.

    â€œI regret that I’ve been sent to collect payment for Antony Vendredi.”  she said.

    â€œThat’s funny,”  the man said, “Everyone else calls him Boss Vendredi.”

    â€œHe is not my boss.  I work for him temporarily.”  Chiaki corrected him.

    â€œAnd why would you do that?”  he asked.

    â€œCould you please just pay me?”  she pleaded with him.

    â€œNot until you answer my question.”

    Chiaki sighed deeply, and closed her eyes.  “He hit me.  He threatened to kill me.”

    She had never used pity before in her life as a weapon, and she was loathe to start now.  But she also had a strong feeling that attempting to strong-arm this man would backfire on her terribly.  The reason Vendredi sent her there, she guessed, was because he knew this man was difficult.  It was a test.

    Unexpectedly, the difficult old man cursed.  He then asked her to stay there, and he shuffled over to the office in the back of the restaurant.  He emerged a moment later with two bundles of cash in hand.

    â€œHere,”  he said, handing both bundles to her.  “I hope that vermin chokes on it.”

    â€œThank you.”  Chiaki turned to leave.

    â€œSomething’s gotta be done about him, you know,”  he said.

    Chiaki nodded.  Quietly, she noted to herself that she had won over one person.  She was on her way to fulfilling her plan.

    â€œIf not for that death mark thing,”  he added sadly.

    She had heard of that, but she was surprised that this simple restaurant owner did.

    â€œHe has us all marked, you know,”  he said.

    Her eyes widened at hearing that.  “Every one of you?”

    â€œEvery one of us.”  he said.  “We have no hope of turning on him.  He’ll just kill every single one of us with a thought.”

    Chiaki left quickly then, and climbed back into her car before she paused to think about that.  It complicated matters enormously.  She could turn everyone against Vendredi, but it wouldn’t help if he could simply kill them all.

    Without really thinking, she took the Lair Legion Comm-Card out of her pocket, and stared at it, wondering if she needed that army Yuki mentioned.  But then, a positive thought pushed that aside.  If she got enough of Vendredi’s income sources against him, he couldn’t kill them all.  Not if he wanted to have money.  She’d have him at a stalemate.

    With that thought fresh in her mind, her resolve was strengthened.  She simply texted Vendredi’s assistant that she had the money, trying to appear loyal, and then drove home.


—-


    Lara Night strolled through the back hallway of the Foundation complex.  She knew exactly where Hatman would be at that time of night, being that he was a creature of habit - now more than ever, according to Dream.  She approached his private apartment door, which comically had a red cartoon fedora sticker applied to it.  No doubt that was Yuki’s handiwork.  She knocked on the door gingerly.

    She paused a while for a response.  No one came to the door.

    She had known him for a long time now, yet each time she visited him there was this undercurrent of uneasiness.  He admitted to feeling pressure to find someone to settle down with and raise a family.  Each time she was away, and then returned, she half expected him to turn her away, to say he found the perfect mate, and that he didn’t want to ruin it by giving even the perceived appearance he might be cheating.  Or that he was abiding by some new rigid, unbreakable rule that meant they couldn’t be friends anymore.  Or that he was simply worried about how a girl visiting him at home would look to the Foundation board.  Each time she knocked on that door, she worried, because rules and propriety was so important to him, she believed he’d sacrifice anything for it.

    The lack of any answer, though, was just confusing.

    Lara twisted the doorknob, and the door popped open.  Typical, he never even locked his apartment door.  The building was pretty secure, and his only visitor at that time of night would probably be the building’s caretaker.  Still, the thought of him living in Gothametropolis with an unlocked door was unthinkable to her.

    â€œHatty?”  she asked…quietly, because she’d been gone so long, she had no idea if he had company.  She closed the door silently behind her, and this time, locked it.  She had a small bag with her, and she put it down carefully just inside the door.

    The apartment itself was orderly and neat, but dusty.  Like he hadn’t really been ‘living in’ the place.  Like he just used it as a place to sleep.  It spoke volumes about his life now; and it appeared that Dream was right.  She felt a little sad about that, as she proceeded into the kitchen.

    Like the living room, the open kitchen was neat but neglected.  There was very little food in the cupboards, and nothing in the fridge, aside from a few bottles of water and some orange juice.

    From the kitchen, though, she could finally hear the reason why he didn’t come to the door, via the plumbing.  A peek down the hall toward the master bedroom confirmed that the shower was running.  Of course, he didn’t close the bedroom door completely, either.

    Feeling a little mischievous, and wanting to surprise him now, she snuck down the carpeted hallway, and into the sparsely furnished master bedroom.

    She froze when she entered.  She had been in there before, and there was one tiny detail standing out to her.  It wasn’t the room’s queen sized bed, which she remembered to be a little cramped when she kept him company once.  Also wasn’t the two spindly nightstands, the dresser, or the small wooden writing desk, or chair.

    What stood out to her was a bundle of clothing hanging over the desk chair, and among that clothing was a black lacy bra.  They were so hastily placed there, that the bra hung all the way down the top of the chair, and a pair of jeans were fallen into the seat.

    Hoping to figure out whose it might be, she picked it up by the straps, and held it against her own chest.  Definitely from someone with larger proportions than herself.  The clothing wasn’t the style of anyone she remembered, unless something drastically changed with that.  Then she suddenly felt self-conscious about touching someone else’s clothing, so she put it down quickly.

    That’s when she froze, and bit her lip.  What if whoever owned those clothes was in the shower with him?

    As if to punctuate her worry, there was a low squeak from the tub in the shower, the sound of skin rubbing against its enameled surface.  She suddenly felt extremely self conscious about standing there.  What if she was right?  All of the evidence pointed to that, because of the clothing she found.  And if she was, she had no right to be there whatsoever.  She wouldn’t be able to explain her presence, and Hatman would never forgive her for ruining whatever this was.

    So she convinced herself, somewhat bitterly, that it was none of her business, whatever it was.  She quickly retreated back through the bedroom, into the hall, and through the living room, moving fast but carefully enough not to bump into anything and cause any sudden noises.  She made certain to grab her bag before closing the apartment door silently, and then zapping suddenly back to the Lair Mansion, just outside her room.

    Coming down off of the adrenaline rush from escaping, she started to feel a little depressed as she entered her room and closed the door behind her.  She made a promise to Chiaki.  From those clothes she saw, and how the Samurai described Alyssa, there was strong evidence that she failed completely in delivering that promise.

    And maybe she was a little jealous.  Not of Alyssa so much as of Hatman, because he was having so much more fun than she was.

    Finally, she decided to get over that, and just walk around the Lair Mansion and see if she could run into anyone else who missed her.  It was kind of late, though, so by then the only ‘person’ she managed to run into at first was Marie Murcheson, who welcomed her back.

    Then she ran into Dream.  She was afraid to say anything to him, because she wanted to protect, well, everyone, and he had quite a big mouth.  He was still in a bathrobe, but now he smelled like he just had a bubble bath.

    â€œHey,”  she said.

    â€œHey, blondie,”  he replied.  “How did your Hatman visit go?”

    She shrugged, trying not to cringe at the only question she didn’t want to answer.  “He was out,”  she lied.

    â€œOh,”  he replied.  “I wonder why he was out so late?”
    
    Another shrug from Lara.

    â€œSo I guess you’re alone now?”

    Yet another shrug.  By the third time, it was starting to betray that she was a little sad.  She didn’t even resist the strong hug he gave her.

    â€œI’d nail you and cheer you up, but I made a promise to Hatty,”  he said.

    She smiled slightly, feeling a little cheered up at his comedic way of saying that.  “It’s okay.  I’m not really in the mood for that now.  What promise, though?”

    Dream sighed.  “He told me that he couldn’t stop me from living the way I wanted to, but that he couldn’t deal with me nailing you.  He said he couldn’t really stop me, but that it really hurt him.”

    â€œIt’s not really his business,”  she pointed out.

    He nodded in agreement.  “Still, he’s my best buddy, and I don’t want to hurt him, even if it’s ridiculous.  He’s not happy very often these days.  I’d rather cheer him up than make things worse.”

    That brought another smile to her face.  “You know, you’re right,”  she said.  “I think I’m going to do the same.”

    â€œOh,”  he said, not quite understanding.  But he decided to play along anyhow, so he smiled, and said, “Awesome.”


—

    
    Chiaki Bushido pulled onto the street headed toward her suburban house, and was hit with a sudden migraine that made her gasp.  She jammed on the brakes, stopping the car suddenly, and turned off all of the lights and the engine.

    Such an extreme reaction was because that kind of migraine was all too familiar to her.  The Samurai’s heart was racing as she climbed out of the car, and closed the door silently behind her.  The aching in her skull meant someone was waiting to kill her.  Not simply injure her like Antony Vendredi did.  It was a very clear and unmistakable warning from her gift.

      A little punch-drunk from the pain, but still balanced enough, she slipped into the strap her sword’s sheath was equipped with, so it stuck close to her back.  She broke into a run, heading in the direction of her house with the swiftness and silence of Ninja.  She stopped about two houses down.

    Just as her gift told her, there was a large man sitting on the front porch of her house.  That was disappointing - she chose her suburban home because she thought her condo downtown was too well known.

    Another migraine hit.  A stronger warning of impending death.  She ducked long before the sniper on the roof of the house across the street spotted her.  It was very bad sign, that there were at least two of them.  Getting one without the other knowing would be near impossible.

    As she crouched in the bushes, she felt for the Lair Legion comm-card in her pocket, but it wasn’t there.  She must have left it in the car.  She was on her own.

    Then she remembered what Lara told her…be Ninja.  Though it was counter to her training to be stealthy - Samurai tended to face danger head-on - it was also important to learn all disciplines.  While she didn’t use them often, she was very familiar with them.

    First and foremost was to move quickly and silently.  When there was no warning from her gift, so she believed the sniper wasn’t watching, she headed to the house across the street from her, straight through the bushes and grass where no one would expect to look for her on the darkened street.  Then made her way along the house in between until she reached her across-the-street neighbor.

    She spotted an open window, and dove through it, landing on her hands, and rolling onto her feet.

    The family who occupied that home lay on the floor in a huge pool of blood, long dead.  A mother and father, a young child, and a pet cat.  Chiaki’s lip began to tremble.  She was furious.

    She went straight up the stairs, and followed the sniper’s previous path of ascent to the roof - out the child’s bedroom window, onto the porch roof.  Except instead of jumping down to that roof where the sniper could see her, she climbed upward, out the window and over the soffit.

    A picture popped into her mind of exactly where the sniper was, at the edge of the roof, lying on his stomach and peering through the night vision sniper rifle sight.  She clamped her hands tightly onto the soffit, and pushed her legs skyward, dropping them over the sniper’s head and around his neck, and she squeezed with all of the strength her highly toned calves and thighs could provide.

    She held on, and his eyes start to bulge out of his head, as he gave up his grip on the rifle and started pounding away at her legs instead, trying to get free.  And then he flopped over, sliding off of the upper roof, bouncing off the porch roof, and landing in the bushes.

    That left Chiaki dangling off of the soffit again, so she dropped back down to the porch roof.

    Another migraine hit her just then, and she stumbled.  She grabbed the sniper rifle in mid-air, just as it slid down toward her, and she spun around, and fired at the two men with assault rifles in front of her house.  Each shot went straight through their shoulders, so they didn’t have the strength to return fire.  Three down, no casualties.

    The ensuing silence was eerie.  She looked down at the sniper in the bushes…he was stone dead.  She didn’t expect that, because she didn’t think she had the strength to kill him so easily.

    She slid off the porch roof, then to the ground, and then across the street.  Those two men were dead, too.  Only they didn’t bleed from where she shot them each in the shoulder.  What was going on?

    Then it occurred to her.  They were death-touched by Antony Vendredi.  They died because they failed.

    As much as she wanted to take the cash inside, and deal with these problems in the morning…as tired as she was…the situation had escalated.  Her gift now ached in her brain, warning her that this wasn’t the last of it.  If she went into her house, she would be dead by morning.

    She climbed back into her car, and drove for what seemed like a half hour to a club that was closed, but she knew was still occupied somewhat.  She got out of her car, and pounded hard on the heavy wooden doors with an open hand.

    There was no response for a minute or so.  Then finally, a loud click, and the door opened partway.  She unconsciously breathed a sighed of relief.

    â€œI need to see Frankie,”  she said.

    It was one of those moments when being female came in really handy.  If she were a male carrying a sword, she would either have been turned away, or worse yet, had to fight everyone on the premises.  Instead, the white pinstripe suited man who answered the door invited her in, and closed the door behind her.  He then escorted her directly to the leader of the Zoot Suit Gang, Frankie.

    â€œHey, sword babe.  What can I do you for?”  Frankie asked.

    She tossed a wrinkled sheet of paper in front of him.  “These are Antony Vendredi’s protection money…contributors.  They are yours, if you help me disrupt his business.”

    Frankie shook his head as he looked over the list.  “These aren’t all of them,”  he said.  “He doesn’t trust you very much, does he?”

    â€œIt’s a start, though,”  she pointed out.

    â€œI don’t know if I want to take him on directly just yet.”

    Chiaki leaned closer to him, which alarmed his companions a little.  “I will take him on.  I only need you to take his source of money away.  Give these businesses a more fair deal.  Treat them well.  They will take your protection over his.”

    â€œHe’ll declare war on both of us.  Then we’ll both need an army,”  he said.  “I have one.  What’ll you do?”

    â€œI have resources,”  she said, remembering her Lair Legion Comm Card.

    Frankie nodded.  He handed the piece of paper to one of his buddies, but said no more about it.  He then turned his attention back to Chiaki.  “If you don’t mind, I have to have my boys give you the boot now.  Appearances, you know.”

    Chiaki nodded, and she let herself go limp as two of Frankie’s men lifted her up, carried her to the door, and then set her down and pushed her out so she stumbled into her car.  They then slammed the door.

    She climbed into her car, continuing to look as disappointed as she could until she was well clear of the area.  Still exhausted, she drove much further than she should have, because she couldn’t go home.  So she headed to the one place she knew was safe - the Lair Mansion.


TO BE CONTINUED?
    


-- Story written and copyrighted (C) 2016 by Jason Froikin, and may not be 
--    reprinted without permission.