Hell's Promise

Well, after ON dying of causes unknown, I haven't really come by here... just seems odd... But that's not the point. The point is that I have this fanfic, and I feel the need to podt it, in the hopes that somebody might read it.

So, without further ado, here's the first Chapter of Hell's Promise...

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Vanessa Keaton closed her eyes. The man above her wouldn't stop. She hoped
he would stop, but he wouldn't. He kept forcing his way... crushing her small
form. She had given up hope when she thought he would leave eventually... when
she let him have what he wanted.
But he didn't. So she would have to get rid of him.
As she began to struggle, the man smiled, and worked even harder on the
figure below him. Apparently, he was enjoying her pain. He wanted to see her try
to escape and fail.
And fail she did. No matter how much she tried, she wasn't strong enough
to pry the man off of her. She was too small, too weak. But she couldn't give
up. He was going to keep... to keep hurting her. She couldn't let him.
But she couldn't stop him either. The futility fueled her rage greater
than his actions. Her body was one thing. But her pride? He was destroying that.
He was showing her to be weak. And he grunted with even greater enthusiasm as
she screamed and thrashed, as a tear rolled down her face.
He liked it even more when she began to bleed from the mouth. It meant he
was hurting her.
He began to get concerned when she vomited about a pint of blood onto his
face.
And he ran in terror when she bit his nose off.
And ate it.

"Did you hear about that?" James Keaton asked his wife.
"What?"
He held up the newspaper, displaying a photo of a bodybag, "Suspected
rapist. They found him in the woods..."
Vanessa tasted a sweet tinge of blood.
"Well, most of him."

A King of Fighters Side Story

Daniella Cserei stood above a pair of bodies. One belonged to her mother.
The other was that of her father. They were dead. Killed by some people she
didn't even know the names of. Some people who hated her for who her parents
were.
People who called her 'kind' scum.
But they looked the same as her. They dressed the same as her. How was she
different? How were her parents different? And why did they deserve to die?
Daniella began to walk away from the tattered building she had lived in
all her life. A few men with guns had ended everything she knew. She would never
let it happen again. She would never be weak again. She would punish them. All
of them.
A man with a gun walked up to her, his breath reeking of alcohol and hate.
He spoke in a language she didn't understand. When she looked at him blankly, he
sneered, cocking his pistol.
He was going to shoot her. Because she spoke a different language. He
would kill. Such a stupid beast, this man. She began to hate him. She hated him
more then he could ever possibly hate her. And she knew, as he backed up, that
he had killed her parents.
She doubled over, the fury proving too much for her. She tasted blood, and
the rest was lost.
She woke up in a truck heading for Switzerland.

"Who did this?" Another man asked, looking at the five carcasses splayed
across the broken landscape.
"A little girl."
He almost laughed.

Hell's Promise
Volume One: The story of two girls

Chapter One
Part One
January 12th - February 15th, 1980; Toronto, Canada

"Vanessa."
Vanessa looked up from her homework to see her mother standing over her,
expression blank. "Yes?"
Her mother sat down on the bed next to her, putting her arm around the
ten-year-old girl. "I need to talk to you."
Suddenly, the door to her room closed as her mother clenched her fist.
Vanessa felt a wave of something familiar, something terrifying, something
beautiful. She felt the blood.
"How... how did you do that?"
Her mother blinked once. When her eyes opened again, they were different.
The pupils had become slits in her blood-red irises, and the skin around them
was pulled tight. For a moment, her mother made a gurgling sound, then blinked
again and returned herself to normal.
"Vanessa," Her mother began, "I know it was you."
"..."
"You killed that man."
Vanessa dropped her pencil and began to collapse. "I... he hurt me..."
Her mother put an arm around her, holding her close. "I know. I know he
did. I'm not blaming you."
Vanessa managed to nod her head between sobs, soaking her mother's blouse.
"That's it... lean on me... cry on your mama," Her mother said softly,
beginning to cry herself, "It's okay..."

"Are you alright?"
Vanessa nodded, wiping her tears on her sleeve.
"No, you're not," Her mother answered, "But that's okay. You've been
through Hell."
Vanessa gained enough coherency to ask a question. "How did you know?"
"Know what?"
"That..." Vanessa stammered, feeling a pit form in her stomach, "That I
killed him?"
Her mother ran her hand across her own face, trembling as she spoke. "Our
blood... our cursed blood."
Vanessa could only sit and watch as her mother began to shake all over.
"You can still taste the blood, can't you? Your blood," Her mother wiped a
red stain from the corner of her mouth, "His blood..."
Vanessa felt a burning in her veins as she remembered the crimson life
flowing over her lips. "Y... yes."
Her mother shed a tear before asking, "How did it feel?"
"Good."
"When you killed him... when you had the power... it was good, wasn't it?"
Vanessa nodded, frightened at how good the memory of his death was.
"You want to kill again."
Eyes full of tears, Vanessa barely mouthed, "Why?"
Her mother pulled her close and stroked her brown hair. "It's my fault. I
brought you into this cursed life."
For her part, Vanessa sobbed a little bit more quietly.
"It's our blood, Vanessa. The blood of the Dragon. My mother had it. I
have it. And you..." She looked at her daughter, eyes red with tears, "You have
it.
"I was hoping so much that you wouldn't. I thought that with three
generations... I could control mine. Hold it back. Grandma taught me how to
fight it, how to make it serve me."
"Can..." Vanessa asked, looking at her mother hopelessly, "Can you teach
me? So I won't... do that again?"
"I don't know. Your blood is so much stronger than mine. I don't think you
can fight it, Vanessa. I don't think I can help you..."
"But... but what do I do?" She asked, the last word barely audible, "It
hurts so much. I don't... Help me, Mama..."
"It's alright, your mother's here... Shhhh... Your grandmother can help
you. She can help," Her mother comforted, hoping it was true.
Vanessa fell asleep, crying. As she would every night.

James Keaton awoke as his wife slunk into bed beside him.
"I heard crying," he stated plainly.
She looked down, thinking.
"Rose," He said more forcefully, "What's wrong? Why was Vanessa crying?"
Rose looked at him, eyes full of water and sorrow. "That man... the
rapist..."
James' face blanched. "No."
"He..."
"No!"
He got to Vanessa..."
"NO!" James shouted, slamming his hands into the bed, "NO! Not my little
Vanessa! I... I... no..."
Rose held onto her husband, trying to keep him from hyperventilating.
"How... why... why... No. This is... no. I can't..."
"Calm down... please..." she pleaded, holding his hands, "She fell asleep
already. Don't wake her."
"But... what can we do?"
Rose looked down.
"We have to get a therapist, Rose," James declared, "We have to have
someone help her."
"I know," Rose whispered.

"Is she mean?" Vanessa asked, standing with her mother outside of the
therapist's office.
"No, Dr. Conrad will be very nice to you. Now, come, it's time for our
appointment."

Vanessa sat in a swing, slowly hocking back and forth. She didn't feel
like playing with the other kids much anymore. She had other things on her mind.
She had to go to the
therapist twice a week, but she wasn't allowed to tell how she... how she killed
the man. It had only been a couple of weeks, and so far she hadn't had to lie
about it.
But she didn't want to. Lying was wrong.
"Girls have cooties!" A boy shouted, chasing down a pigtailed girl and
tackling her.
Vanessa watched with more interest as she tried to strike back, but was
easily stopped. They exchanged some more comments, and she began to struggle.
The boy quickly pushed her onto the ground and began seeing how close to her
face he could drool before sucking it back up.
He held her arms.
She fought.
She was helpless.
Vanessa tasted iron and leapt off the swing, heading for the boy at full
speed. Before he even noticed her, she smashed into him with her shoulder,
sending him flying. Another boy nearby ran to his friend, who had landed several
feet away.
Vanessa kept running.
She landed on top of him and grabbed his neck, letting out am unholy
scream as she squeezed as tight as she could.
The one boy tried to stop her, but was rewarded by having his hand bitten.
No other child dared to stop her.
"HURT ME!" She screamed, froth forming at the corners of her mouth, "NOOO!
HURT ME!"
"Vanessa!"
The sudden shout of her name gave her a moment's pause. During this
moment, a janitor pried her off of the boy as her teacher watched in fear.
Vanessa trembled violently for a moment before passing out.

Rose watched the boy sitting in the hospital bed, struggling for life. He
was lucky, no, Vanessa was lucky that the janitor had seen her. And that herteacher had distracted her.

"I'm sorry," Vanessa pleaded, watching the machine move to the same time as the
boy's chest, "What did I do to him?"
Rose answered, without looking at her daughter, "You broke his arm in two
places. And a rib. And you nearly crushed his throat."
Vanessa began to cry.
"He's in a coma."
"What does that mean?"
Her mother paused momentarily before continuing. "It means he's asleep...
and might not wake up. You almost killed him."
Vanessa fell to the floor. "I wanted to."
"And you always will..." Her mother said only to herself.

"Vanessa," Dr. Sara Conrad asked of the young girl before her, "How did
you get away?"
Vanessa could feel her mother's words in her skull. The order that she
must never tell what she did. That it must be a secret. But it was a lie. She
couldn't lie. And maybe... maybe Dr. Conrad could help her.
"I... I started to fight him."
Sara nodded. "And then what?"
"I couldn't do anything... and he was hurting me more."
"What did he do then?"
Vanessa began to cry as she thought of how powerless she was. "He kept
going... he was laughing... and I was so weak... so I fought him."
"How did that go?"
"I... I started to taste blood in my mouth."
Sara looked up. "He hit you in the face?"
"No... it was coming from inside."
"You..." Dr. Conrad struggled to understand, "You coughed up blood?"
"Yes... and then I puked it all over him."
"Omygod...."
"And..." Vanessa continued, oblivious to Dr. Conrad staring at her
stomach, "And then I bit his nose."
"You..."
"Off. And I ate it."
Dr. Conrad leaned over and lifted Vanessa's shirt up, looking for bruises.
"He... did he hit you in the sto... did you say off?"
"I bit his nose off."
Sara calmed a bit, then spoke softly, "I think your imagination's running
away with you, Vanessa. It's normal for the story to be all strange in your
head."
"No, I mean it! I ate his nose!"
"Ate?"
Vanessa nodded. "Don't you believe me?!?"
"No, Vanessa, I don't."
"But I KILLED HIM!" Vanessa screamed, leaping to her feet, "I KILLED HIM!"
Dr. Conrad backed up a step, but remained calm. "How could you kill him?
He was a grown man. Maybe you WANTED to kill him..."
"NO!" Vanessa shouted, easily flinging the couch she was sitting on across
the room, "I KILLED HIM! I Pulled his arm off! I... I tore his guts out! I saw
his face when
he died!"
Dr. Conrad was unable to say anything as she hid behind her desk to avoid
Vanessa, who was easily breaking furniture and walls.
"And..." Vanessa said, falling to her knees. "I liked it."
Sara stood up, eyeing the trickle of blood coming from the corner of
Vanessa's cheek.
"I wanted to kill Freddy, too."
"Who... who's Freddy?"
Vanessa looked up. "He was holdin' a girl... I choked him. He's in the
hospital now."
"Oh God..." Sara stammered, "That boy... you did that?"
"Yes. It was..."
"What was it?" Sara asked.
"It was fun," Vanessa said with a giggle.
Vanessa turned up to face Dr. Conrad, who immediately froze. Her eyes were
full of... of something the therapist had only seen in the psychotic. They were
full of bloodlust.

Rose sat with her daughter on the train to Ottowa. It was a long journey,
and she wouldn't get to see her daughter for a long time, but she had to do it.
Vanessa wasn't safe at home. No one was. She had to learn how to control
herself, and there was only one person Rose knew who could do that.
"How far are we from Grandma's, Mom?"
"Not too far, dear, not too far."

Part Two

August 8 - September 29, 1980, Zurich, Switzerland

Dani Cserei stood beside Maria Altmann, a well known woman. Maria had
decided to take the girl under her wing when she saw her charming her way to
free food almost a year ago. This now-twelve-year-old girl had much potential in
her.
There was some sort of magnetism to her, a bizarre charm that kept men,
and even women, captivated by her. Even at twelve, Dani had more sex appeal than
most women ever got.
And that was what Maria had seen at first. A woman like that could become
more than a simple whore. No, she could be a kept woman for someone important.
She could be the mistress to any number of wealthy men in Switzerland. That was
what Maria first intended to teach Dani to be.
And all Dani asked was if it could give her more power
Maria told her yes.

But then, one day, Dani came across some men mugging one of her... fellow
students. These were three grown men, but that didn't stop Dani. After very
kindly asking them to stop, two of them approached her to take up on this
kindness. They soon got something.
After brutally beating the first two men, the last one decided to leave
well enough alone. As it turned out, these men were new members of a gang of thugs causing trouble in the Howard Syndicate's territory.
The Howard Syndicate was one of Maria's benefactors. They were glad to
have a few pests in their... custody. Dani was thanked with money and a promise
of a good spot as an operative if she kept on the way she was.

An operative. Her little Dani could be an operative. While one of the more
dangerous positions, it was also one of the most profitable. And, much to Dani's
delight, one of the most powerful.
So Maria, with the help of an operative called only Shadow, began to train
her in those ways. She took to it immediately, and she grew to be very close
with Shadow, seeing him as somewhat of a brother.
"Dani!" Shadow shouted, whipping a gun out and aiming it at her, "I could
hear you coming a mile away! You'll get killed that way!"
Dani scowled. "DAMN! I can't do it! I just can't be that quiet!"
Shadow slid beside her and held her against his shoulder. "No, you will.
Just not yet. You've done better than I've ever seen anyone your age do."
"Then why do I have to keep trying so hard?"
"Because it's a hard world," He explained, "And anything less than
perfection will get you killed."
"Perfection..." She whispered to herself.

Maria was sitting, reading a book one night when Dani appeared in front of
her.
"Dani, what are you doing up? Go back to bed."
Dani coughed a little, and Maria heard the spackle of liquid hitting wood
floor. "I... I feel strange."
Maria got up quickly, seeing the puddles of red on the floor. "Oh my God!"
Maria gasped, seeing the blood flowing from the corners of Dani's mouth, "What's
wrong?"
"I want to do things sometimes..." Dani said, clutching at herself with
her hands, "And it keeps getting worse... And then I started bleeding..."
Maria was getting more confused. "What do you want to do?"
Dani's eyes widened a little and she began to moan a little as she rubbed
her hands across herself. "I want to feel... I want to feel... in me..." She
sighed, rubbing herself in a way which caused even Maria to blush, "I want to be
adult..."
"Mature"
"Mature..." She gasped happily, rubbing herself harder, "I want to have
that power.... But...."
Maria looked up, enraptured by the girl.
"I want to hurt... I want to give pain..." Dani was breathing heavily now,
gobs of blood splattering to the floor, "I want to kill... kill... I want to
feel them in me, I want to feel them die in my hands I want to hurt to hurt to
make them feel good and kill them I want to be POWERFUL!"
Maria began to back up slowly as the girl rapidly approached a conclusion,
using the wall as support.
"I want!" She shouted, coughing up blood with every gasp of pleasure, "I
want it! Pleasure! Pain! Kill! Love! Sex! Death! Mine! MINE! MINE! MINE!!
YAAAAGGH!"
And with that final arching of her back, that final gout of crimson life,
she fell to the floor, spent.
Maria stared, trembling. Partially because of what had happened, and
partially because of how it made her feel. There really was something about that
girl.

"How often do you feel this way?" Shadow asked her, having been told of
the events of the previous night.
"See that man over there?" Dani said, pointing to a man sitting on a
bench, "I want to feel him in me."
"Really?"
"Badly," Dani said, shuddering a little.
"But you're only twelve!"
Dani looked at him, licking a finger which was wet for a reason Shadow did
not want to think about. "I'm very mature."
"I can see," He muttered.
They sat on the bench for a few minutes, looking at the scene around them.
People went about their business, as though nothing were wrong with the world.
But underneath that exterior was the real world. The one he and Dani belonged
to. The one that really ruled this city. And then there was whatever world Dani
was from.
"Anything else?" He asked her suddenly.
Dani pointed at a man eating a cookie and walking hurriedly. "I want to
kill him."
"What?"
"I want to make him think he can have me, then pull his intestines out. I
want to feel the life drain out of him as I laugh."
Shadow blinked. "Wow."
"And every day it gets harder for me to control it," she said, stretching
like a cat, "It gets harder to keep from putting my hands in my pants... or in
him."
Shadow stood up and began to walk, with her following him. "I've heard
things," He said, putting his hands in his pockets, "About certain people like
you... berserkers."
"Berserkers?"
"Yes. People who have this... instinct. People who cough up blood. I'll
try to find out how you can control it."
Dani looked at him lovingly. "Thank you!"
"But."
"But?"
"For the time being, you're going to have to find a way to control
these... rages."
She frowned a bit. "How?"
"The way I see it," He continued, "You have two options. You can kill
people sometimes, and that's out."
She frowned, but began realizing what his other suggestion was.
"Or you can have sex..." He said, feeling a bit weird at having suggested
that a twelve-year-old have sex.
"I'll talk to Maria!" She said, beaming at the prospect. It was really
quite scary.

As Shadow and Maria sat in the living room, sounds of a girl in the throes
of ecstasy wafted through the vents. They tried to ignore it.
On the plus side, she would be a very good operative. Very good indeed.
When he saw her next, Shadow would suggest her new name...

Part Three

September 14 - 30, 1981, Kowloon, Hong Kong

Ryuji Yamazaki lifted weights with his left arm, strengthening it further.
He sat alone in the gym at midnight, making himself more powerful. He liked
being more powerful. It's why he joined the syndicates, and how he was able to
get to where he was today. Life was finally good for him. Finally.
As he toweled off his long black hair and tall, muscular form unbefitting
of a seventeen-year old, he put his left hand back into his pocket, where he
kept it almost all of the time. He had a definite style, and he liked it that
way. It let people know who he was, that he was somebody...

"Hwang!" Ryuji shouted to his mentor, the man who may as well have been
his father, "I have a bad feeling about this! Don't do it!"
Hwang turned back to him, eyes full of sincerity. "You worry too much.
Learn to trust a little," He said, patting Ryuji on the cheek.
There was a big deal going down with another syndicate in a few days, and
Hwang was to lead up their side of negotiations. Ryuji, however, thought it wise
to bring extra men. He had a premonition, and those tended to be right...

Ryuji sat above Hwang's corpse, eyes full of tears. That day, something
inside of him died. His compassion, trust... his humanity. People were useless.
Money. Death. That was useful. He began to taste blood in his mouth...


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Goenitz2.0: Stronger, faster, and 1.5 times more alive than ever before.

Hell's Promise
Volume One: The story of two Girls

Chapter 2

Part One

January 8 - June 14th, 1987, Zurich, Switzerland and Munich, Germany

Mature looked at the man in front of her. He was writhing in pleasure as
she worked her internal muscles in a pattern to match the external ones.
Amazing. She knew that normally men didn't... get into it that much, but he
really seemed to be letting go of himself.
Oh, well. It was too bad.
As he grunted and spasmed, she pulled her gun out of the blanket and shot
him in the head. Another job complete. She stood, lifting her leg over his
still-twitching form, savoring the feeling of fluids dribbling out of her. She
always did love her job.
As soon as her clothes were halfway on, she placed the gun in his hands
and ran into the hallway, screaming. Others in the hotel poked their heads out
to see what all the racket was. They had already heard a gunshot, and now there
was a woman screaming.
Exactly as planned.

Thank God for forged ID. She had spent the next hour talking to the police
about how he had shot himself while she was asleep next to him. Apparently he
had been having an affair on his wife, and was overall quite depressed, really.
And so his son got all of his property, as it said in his will.
And his son was in the Mahler Syndicate. How... coincidental that she
should be part of that Syndicate.
It used to be the Howard Syndicate, but when Geese had moved to Mexico to
further his interest and build a new empire, a well dressed man known only as
Mahler showed up to replace him. He had a similar take on fighting, too, which
was that none of his employees should be able to beat him.
Not even Mature. He'd asked her to try, one day. She did indeed give it
her best, as she was told those who didn't were summarily... done away with. She
lost, of course, but the long-haired man was somewhat bruised toward the end.
He said that he was impressed and promptly made her his number-one
operative. Since then she'd been proving herself worth of that distinction on
every mission. Their territory had been slowly expanding, and things were good.
Until one mission.

It was a few months after she had felt a strange power awaken in the
world, one which resonated with herself. She didn't know what it was, but it was
at once frightening and comforting. Just like her berserker furies.
"Mature," Mahler began, his long red duster swirling as he turned about in
his chair, "I have special need of your skills."
She looked at him, brushing a bit of her chin-length hair out of her eyes.
"Yes, sir?"
"There are shadows of something moving about in Munich. It may be a gang
getting to big for its pond, a rival syndicate, government action, or maybe
something worse. I need you to find out. If you can't buy it out, destroy it."
She pulled on her long black glove. "And if I can't destroy it?"
"Report back to me," He said, "But just remember... don't get killed.
You're important to us."
"And what if I do?" She asked, standing and smiling.
"Then you're fired," Mahler said in all seriousness.

The trip to Munich was boring. The first few days there were boring. After
three days of waiting for signs of this shadowy group, Mature got bored of it
and decided to take action, even if it meant exposing herself...
Actually, exposing herself would definitely be better.
She immediately called a taxi and headed for the red light district. Those
were always the best places to look for info and security, especially if you
happen to have the same areas of expertise as Mature.
It was easy to find a house with ties to the Mahler Syndicate, and she
soon had a haven she could fall back to, should things get rough. Of course,asking for information there or anywhere else in the area was useless. If someone within Mahler's area of influence knew something, Mahler would know it. And there fore Mature would.
No, instead of sticking around there for too long, she just set up a room
in the "Kleine Blumschein," asked if anything strange had happened since she'd
arrived, and went about her business. Which consisted of going into territory
influenced by other syndicates.
Yes, it was dangerous, but they would probably have information she
could... squeeze out of them. Yes, she could definitely go for some squeezing.
Catching another cab, Mature rode into one of the more upscale parts of town.
Tall white houses stood with land between them, something which was hard to come
by in crowded Europe. But it was one in particular she was interested in.
She tipped the driver generously and headed out, adjusting her sleeveless
dress shirt and making sure her suspenders were off. She liked them better that
way.

"Good evening," Mature stated sweetly, walking into the large office.
The woman in the chair gave a start and leveled her gaze at the intruder.
"And you are?"
"You can call me Mature, and I have an offer for you."
The woman in the chair watched as Mature sat on her desk and crossed her
legs lithely. "How, exactly, did you get in here?"
"You'd be surprised at how easy it is to make guards turn their heads..."
The woman raised an eyebrow. "Some are too loyal for that."
"Or to just avoid their notice altogether."
"You're an operative."
"And you're a don... or donette?" Mature asked, smiling.
"I have a name," The woman said angrily, "And it's..."
"Carlita Domingo, yes, I know."
Carlita scowled.
"Who sent me? I did."
"What do you want?" Carlita asked, ready to get rid of this pest.
"Information."
"What kind?"
Mature slid closer on the table, leaning back so that more of her midriff
lay exposed under her short shirt. "It's about some... strange happenings...
maybe gang wars, your men disappearing, that sort of thing."
Carlita frowned. "Why should I tell you?"
Mature leaned forward, moving her mouth to Carlita's ear.
"Because," She whispered softly, letting her hot breath trail across the
other woman's ear, "I have something you want..."
Carlita's anger began to fade in lieu of something else. "And what's
that?"
Mature nipped her ear slightly and drew back, trailing her hand across
Carlita's face and lips. "I'll show you... and then you tell me."
Carlita smiled and pushed a button to close the blinds.

Mature sauntered off, quite pleased at the day's work. She hadn't expected
the Domingo family to know anything. She really just wanted Carlita. But in a
stroke of luck, they'd had a string of disappearances going on. This in and of
itself wasn't odd.
It was the fact that they weren't doing it that was odd.
Mature Headed for the area they had been happening, as it was beginning to
get dark, and she was a helpless young fraulein or something like that. She
could've gone back to the hotel, but why waste time? She liked taking care of
things when they needed to be done.
So as she roamed the area surrounding one of the lower-quality residential
areas, she had plenty of time to do some hard thinking. It occurred to her that
this was it. She was only nineteen, and she had gotten about as far in the world
as she was ever going to. She was the number-one operative for one of the
biggest syndicates in Europe. There wasn't much space above that. Only perhaps a
couple Italian ones, a Russian one, and of course, the Bernstein Connection.
But she could hardly get up to a level like Bernstein's. And anyway, she
had dedicated herself to Mahler. She couldn't just up and leave. Not now, not
ever. They would track her down and kill her. No, it was easier to stay, and no
reason to leave... It was just... disappointing, was all.
"Nowhere left to go, and I'm barely a quarter of the way done," she mused
softly, feeling the breeze against her skin.
The wind blew across her, sounding like breath in her ear. It was a warm
night, and the wind felt nice. It picked up further, and swirled the trees in
strange patterns.
It was only when she began to hear whispers that she began to get
concerned. The wind kept picking up, more and more, until it was buffeting her
around, causing her to struggle just to stand in one spot. She felt something
within her stir, and a few notes of a dreamlike melody floated through her head.
"Guten Tag, Fraulein," Came a voice from behind her.
She turned around to see a man dressed in a flowing blue trenchcoat with
an almost Chinese blue shirt beneath it. The wind whipped his clothes and the
chains between the sides of his coat, surrounding him in a sea of motion. His
white hair flowed behind him majestically, and his blue eyes drove into her
with dark intensity.
"Who are you?"
He raised a slender, long-fingered hand to his chest. "My name is Goenitz,
and I would like to offer you a job."
She would've laughed in his face, but for the bizarre situation they were
in. This man somewhere in his early thirties was standing in front of her, wind
blowing furiously, offering her a job. Suddenly, she thought back to just a few
minutes ago, to the thought of her being killed.
"You said your name... but that isn't enough," Mature shouted over the
wind, "Who do YOU work for?"
"Me?" He smiled, his quiet voice audible over the din, "I serve the Yamata
no Orochi, as you do."
Suddenly, Mature didn't so much hear as... feel an ethereal eight-note
progression...

Beautiful Chaos of a Dream...

She blinked. the Orochi? Why did that sound so familiar? And why did more
of the haunting melody come to her? She felt it again, coursing through her
darkly.

The Darkness growing ever more
Raising slowly ever more...

And then bits began to come back to her... The number eight was prevalent
among them, and the destruction of corruption... A Dragon, a great serpent...
the Blood of pain and hate... It was in her.
And it was in him, too.
Goenitz smiled a little.
"Teach me," She said, simply.
"I will," Goenitz said, flicking his wrist.
Suddenly, all the wind stopped, and quiet had resumed. Goenitz laughed a
little and put his arm around his new employee.

Part Two

May 22 - November 28, 1987, Chicago, Illinois

Vanessa Keaton ran through the hallways of Jefferson high, smiling at her
classmates. It was her senior year, and soon she would be able to make her own
way in life. To do what she had always wanted to.
To become a professional fighter. She'd always loved to fight. Maybe it
was because she liked being strong, maybe it was because she enjoyed the
violence... actually it was both of those. She did indeed like violence. A lot.
And... other things as well.
She had discovered the birds and the bees at an early age, and her
grandmother had been happy to explain all the ins and outs to her. Even though
the talks were pretty embarrassing, Vanessa was glad they had them. That way she
knew how to protect herself from all the awful stuff that could happen to her.
And she didn't particularly try to hide the fact that she was a
bloodthirsty nymphomaniac. It was pretty much common knowledge that if someone
started a fight, she would finish it. And if anybody wanted to know about sex,
well, she could help out there, too.
Reaching the courtyard, Vanessa leaned against the wall and pulled out a
cigarette. It felt good to be able to relax for a moment after all the grueling,
not to mention boring, work they had been giving her. "Got another, Vice?" A voice asked from her side

Vice. Some of her friends had taken to calling her that because of her
interest in, well, vices. She smoked, drank, lusted, fought, and at times,
gambled. She liked that nickname.
"Fuckin' bum," She drawled, handing Becky a Marlboro.
"Shut up," Becky replied, lighting it, "You know I'm seventeen."
Vanessa closed her eyes. "Still a bum."
Becky sighed and looked down, whispering, "What about US, Vanessa?"
"What about us?" She asked without opening her eyes.
"Dammit Vanessa!" Becky shouted, surprising the long-haired girl beside
her, "Why do you do this?"
"I... I... what do you mean?"
"Let me review," Becky began, "You began hanging around me, then you start
taking me places... okay, that's alright..."
Vanessa nodded.
"But then... then you take me to a party. And you get me nice and drunk
and ready for a little love. I can still tolerate that."
Vanessa began sweating.
"But then you just pretend like nothing happened?" Becky shouted, dropping
her cigarette, "You'd better at least start acting like a girlfriend!"
"Um... okay..." Vanessa said, a little scared.
"That's better," Becky said, kissing Vanessa on the cheek, "pick me up at
eight."
"What's happening at eight?"
Becky gave her a decidedly baleful look. "Our date, stupid."
"Oh, right... heh heh..."
Becky smiled and skipped away.
"Women," Vanessa said, putting out her cigarette.

Vanessa threw her bag onto the couch and flopped down next to it, turning
on the TV. She could hear her grandmother cooking in the small kitchen of the
somewhat run-down apartment they shared, and she could smell it, too.
"Whatcha makin'?" Vanessa asked, feeling hunger well up in her.
"Nothing for you," Grandma answered.
Vanessa immediately stood up. "Like hell! I'm hungry!"
Her grandmother peered her head from around the corner, her white hair cut
close to her head. "You have to start learning to take care of yourself."
"I can take care of myself! I can kick anybody's ass!"
"That isn't what I meant," Grandma sighed, "Anyway, don't you have a date
or something anyhow?"
"How..." Vanessa began, wondering if this was some Dragon Blood trick her
grandmother had yet to teach her, "How did you know?"
"It's an ancient technique, and I will teach it to you now."
Vanessa sat cross-legged on the spot she always did when learning a new
technique. "Uh huh?"
Her grandmother became very sagely, as she always did when teaching. "It
is an age old skill, that is so simple, to deviously obvious that everyone
regrets not having seen it before."
"Well?"
"The first step is reaching out with the arm," Grandma demonstrated.
"Uh huh?"
"Then you wait..."
Vanessa was getting confused. "For what?"
"For the phone to ring, dumbass," Her grandmother said, hitting her in the
head with a wooden spoon, "Your GIRLfriend called me and told me to not let you
weasel out of this."
"Damnit!"
Grandma smiled. "So I see you got yourself another admirer... and a girl
this time, too. I guess I always knew you were a dyke."
"WHAT?!?"
Grandma began laughing in the kitchen.
Vanessa fumed.

Five hours later...
"But my Grandma's here!" Vanessa protested as Becky began removing her
clothes.
"She won't wake up."
Vanessa's gaze shot around the room, trying to avoid looking at the naked
form in front of her. "But... She has really good hearing!"
Internally, Vanessa was chiding herself for going against the idea of
having sex. Against sex! What stupidity!
"Oh, come on, Vice, please..." Becky said, rubbing the parts of herself
she had just exposed, "I need it... you're so good..."
Vanessa gritted her teeth for a moment before some internal failsafe
broke, and she dove headfirst for... well, you know.

Vanessa awoke to a slap to the top of the head.
"Wha..."
She blinked her eyes to see Becky next to her in her bed, and her
Grandmother standing next to it.
"Shit!"
Grandma raised an eyebrow. "Fun night?"
Vanessa smiled sheepishly as Becky almost stirred. "What do you want?"
"It's time I told you your element."
Vanessa straightened up at the sound of that. She began to disengage
herself from the sleeping girl next to her and softly made her way outside with
her grandmother.
Only when she was outside did she realize it was five in the morning.
"It's five in the morning!" Vanessa said, suddenly unhappy to be awake.
"Shut up."
"..."
"Anyway," Grandma continued, "I'm going to pass the mantle on to you when
you're eighteen."
Each person of Dragon Blood controlled one of eight elements. It stayed
the same for each lineage, and when the head of that clan died, the power went
to the next of the lineage, if there was one. Either that, or the head could
pass it on voluntarily.
But Vanessa had yet to find out what specific element she controlled. Her
grandmother had been very secretive.
"So what is it?"
"It's the reason we're out here at five in the morning," Her grandmother
continued, "It's everything right now... I'm at my strongest at this time of
day, you know."
"No, I don't. What are you getting at?"
"It's darkness, idiot," Grandma said, hitting her in the head, "And it's
what we control."
"Wow... I was thinking fire or ice or something... but that's cooler..."
"Damn right," Grandma stated proudly, "Now go back to bed."
"Huh?"
"You've got a long day ahead of you... I can feel it."
Vanessa sighed. "Then I'll need all the sleep I can get."

After saying her temporary goodbyes to her... girlfriend, Vanessa headed
out into the heart of Chicago. She and her grandmother drove through the dimly
lit streets in the early evening, heading to a place they knew well.
A second home for Vanessa, a place she could be herself. The reason they
had moved to Chicago.
To the fights.
Once a week at Jimmy's Pool Hall, Jimmy would open up the door to his
cellar and all sorts of fighters and... enthusiasts was perhaps the best term,
would flock to this ritual. It was the beauty of the violence, of the pain.
Vanessa loved it. Her grandmother liked it, too. It helped her be a better
member of the lineage.
Eventually, they came across the alley they always parked in, and parked
in the same spot as always. The LTD made the same little rattle it always did,
and the doors stuck in the usual way. It was a wonderful routine, and Vanessa
was happy in it. It made her life whole.

"And now, the reigning champ of the League, our own _sweet_ little...
Vice!" Jimmy shouted, prompting shouts of carious kinds from the audience.
Vanessa, no, Vice, pushed her way through the hazy air, rolling her neck
as she walked, popping out kinks. She stood in the middle of the ring and turned
to look at the ceiling, screaming savagely. She was ready to go.
"Who's gonna fight me today? I've already had sex, now I want violence!"
She shouted, grinning the whole time.
Several men in the audience vowed their love for her again.
"Me," a large man said, wearing overalls and boxing gloves, "My name is
Franco Bash, and I'm gonna take you down a peg or two, girl!"
Vice leaned forward, popping her back while groaning suggestively. "How
fun... a brawler!"
"Brawler?" Bash shouted, breaking the beer bottle he was holding, "I'm a
professional! I just wanted to beat the famous Chicago Vice!"
Vice laughed. Then spat.
His boys holding Franco back, Jimmy began, "Alright, here's the rules...
don't leave the ring, no weapons, and whoever can't get up loses! Go!"
Bash immediately charged Vice, shadows flying even faster in the stark
light. Vice immediately fell to the ground to avoid the flying hamfists under
those blue gloves. Franco turned around, looking at the girl laying on the
floor, her long red skirt laying open to him. He allowed himself a moment of
ogling before gathering his resolve again and charging once more.
Vice spun her legs, rolling as she got to her feet. Her black shirt
trailed open, giving glimpses of her bosom to the audience. She wore a regular
bra, not a sports one.
Bash noted to himself that this was probably why they liked her so much here...
As he sent his fists upon her once again, she leapt above his head,
landing behind him. He tried to whirl once more, but he was still moving
forward, and this proved disadvantageous as he felt his legs pulled out from
beneath him. He broke his fall with his hands, however, and was about to get up
when he felt the heel of a high-heeled shoe dig into the base of his neck.
"Hey, hey, no weapons!" Jimmy said, as though this was a common problem.
Bash, relieved at not having a possible future in a wheelchair, stood up
and sized up his opponent again. So far, she had barely done anything, and
wasn't even close to being touched by him. She was playing with him.
This little girl was playing with Franco Bash, professional boxer.
He became enraged again, and this time, he ran at her, arms wide. She
welcomed his charge and was promptly bear-hugged with all of the huge man's
might. Instead of crumpling, as most women her size would, she instead bear
hugged him back, her arms pressing far into his muscle.
And so they stood, for over a minute. Both warriors slowly sapping the
life out of the other. Eventually, Vice's grip began to loosen, and finally
fell. She fell, too. And as soon as she did, Bash did. Jimmy shook off his
surprise and started counting. Slowly, they both staggered to their feet,
surprised at the strength of the other.
This time, it was Vice's turn to get on the offensive. She ran forward,
attempting to shoulder-check Bash. He took it in his own shoulder, but still
slid back a foot. He returned with a straight right to the face, which she
easily dodged. She swung her foot up and caught him in the chin, her leg
parallel to her torso.
He growled, but calmed him anger this time. He could play, too, and he
knew just the game. He started taking light swings at her, extending to the full
extent of his reach. Being somewhat smaller than him, she couldn't retaliate.
Her constant smile began to fade as the range game continued on.
Bash swung once, straight forward, forcing her to back up a bit. He was
terribly open, but not even her legs could reach far enough to punish him.
Suddenly, she snapped her right arm forward, and it became a blur in his vision.
Before he knew what was happening, he felt fingers on the back of his head, and
his current lack of balance was used against him, pulling his head, and
therefore his whole body, towards the girl at high speeds.
As her visible bosom took up most of his vision, she used her other hand
to punch him squarely in the face. The punch in the face, however, was exactly
what Franco needed. It shocked him to the realization that he had to do
something. As he fell forward, feigning stupor, he worked to move his close foot
forward, regaining leverage and balance.
Less than a second after she had hit him, She was lifted into the air by
her ankles. She may be strong for her size, but she was still not that big, and
not that heavy. Bash swung her over his shoulders, leaning back a bit so that
her head might hit cement. More importantly, he needed to get more angle.
As his arms and body went back as far as was safe, he swung back forward
as hard as he possibly could. It was a brutal tactic, but that's what these
underground fights were all about. He swung her forward with incredible force,
ending the fight.

Vice, for her part, hadn't hit her head when he hoped she would. She was
too short. Instead, she thanked the Dragon that he was that big, and that
strong, and promptly grabbed onto his ankles with a deathgrip. She was good at
those.
As he swung her, she could feel the tension in her body. Her legs wanted
to break off of her body, her spine wanted to separate, and her arms threatened
to leave their posts. But after at eternity of pain which was actually only a
hundredth of a second, the friction between his feet and the floor gave way.
All of his massive upper body strength was meant to go into slamming her
face-first into the floor. Instead, it whipped his feet straight up, and sent both her and his torso flying forward, and more importantly, downward. The
entire crowd gasped for that moment where both of them were in midair.
The first thing that happened was that she let go of his ankles and pushed
off of them, straightening herself. Vice knew she was going to eat concrete,
too, and prepared to brace the fall. The next thing was Franco's face hitting
the floor.
Blood flew everywhere. Not as much as she expected, though. Only after she
braced her fall with her hands, letting her chest help, too, did she notice that
he had managed to put his elbows to the floor.
They were quite broken, yes, but he had avoided killing himself. Good
show. Good show indeed. Vice lithely extracted her feet from his lax grasp and
stood, dusting herself off.
She extended her hand toward him and said cheerily, "Let's meet on a
moonlight night! ... If you recover, that is."
The audience shouted happily.

"You did well, Vanessa," Her grandmother stated on the ride home, "I
didn't know if you could beat him."
Vanessa wiped a bit of blood from her mouth. "Heh... I'm much stronger
that he thought."
Grandma smirked. "That, and you're smarter. And that snake-arm didn't
hurt, either. You're getting good at that, by the way."
"Thanks. I'm proud of it. I can get about eight inches extra reach now."
"But," Grandma continued, "You let him pick you up like that. You worked
it to your advantage, but it could've been fatal..."
"I still won."
"Literally. If he had succeeded, you'd be dead now."
The finality of that began to sink in to Vanessa, and she stared out the
window.
"Then you'd miss graduation, and that's no good," her grandmother noted.
"I could've died..." Vanessa said softly, this concept strangely foreign
to her. She was well aware that others might die when fighting her, but she'd
never thought of her own life being in danger. But now it was.
"Don't take it so hard! It's just death."
Vanessa's jaw dropped. "Just death?"
"Yeah. I died once... it's no big deal," Grandma continued, "Now cheer up,
you won."
"You... you died?"
Vanessa's grandmother slapped her hand to her forehead. "Oh yeah, I never
told you..."
"That you're DEAD?!?"
"No... that we get to die twice."
Vanessa blinked. "What?"
"As warriors of the Dragon, we have two lives or something. Whatever the
reason, you have to die twice to really be dead. Even though you spend a couple
months... in some bad places."
"Really"
"Have I ever lied to you?" Her grandmother said, face blank.
Vanessa opened her mouth to say yes drolly, but suddenly remembered that
her grandmother had indeed never lied to her. "No, you haven't."
"See?"
"Wow..."

Vanessa sat up in her bed, feeling suddenly cold. Somehow the wind had
pushed her window open. Grudgingly, she got up to close it. As she stood at it,
she looked outside for a moment, as one normally does when at a window.
The strange thing was the man in the cloak a block away, staring at the
moon, wind blowing his garments. He looked at her for a moment before flicking
his wrist upwards as though beckoning something forth.
And with that, he was gone.

Marilyn LaSalle looked up from her book and into the darkness before her.
"You must be the one who unsealed the Dragon," she stated to the darkest
spot.
Two points of yellow light shone for a moment.
"Yes. The awakening of the Orochi is ever nearer."
Marilyn drew the darkness around her, her clothes changing to a black
evening gown full with regalia. "What do you want, warrior of wind?"
The man stepped forward, revealing his form. "I want the warrior of
darkness."
"I see," She said, a vortex of darkness slowly forming in the room, "And
that is why you have sought me out?"
"Yes."
Suddenly, a beam of darkness surged through her, and her clothes were back
to normal. "You have the wrong person."
The man looked around, searching for the destination of the darkness.
"Your granddaughter? You passed it on to her?"
"Yes..." Marilyn gasped, exhausted from the exchange of power, "If you
want the help of the warrior of darkness, ask her..."
"Very well," he stated, and walked calmly into Vanessa's room.
"... Because I sure as hell won't help you."

"Vanessa Keaton, warrior of the Darkness," A German voice sounded behind
her, causing Vanessa to turn with a start.
"What?" She sputtered, looking at the man in blue, "Who?"

"I am Goenitz, Orochi warrior of the Winds, and premier of the four
Heavenly Kings."

Beautiful Chaos of a Dream...

Vanessa felt an essence in him that she had felt rumblings of for
months... And it was the same as what was inside her. She was... an Orochi
warrior. The warrior of darkness.
Wait! Her grandmother was the warrior, not her! Vanessa looked down, only
to see a regal gown hanging off her frame elegantly. And it was jet black.
"Yes," Goenitz began, "You are indeed the Orochi warrior of Darkness,
now."
"But, how?"
"Your grandmother bestowed it upon you so that you may choose..."
Vanessa backed up, confused. "Choose what?"
"If you would like to work for me," he continued, "Nay, for the Dragon
itself!"
Vanessa felt a stirring within her, and knew he spoke the truth. "What...
what can you offer me?"
Goenitz smiled. "Strength. You will be able to dominate all the world
alongside our master the Orochi. And you will have plenty of opponents to
destroy."
"Strong..." Vanessa whispered.
Goenitz nodded and took her hand in his own. "Come, my beautiful assassin,
Vanessa."
"Vice," Vanessa stated.
Goenitz gave her a puzzled look.
"My name is Vice."
He smiled and flicked his wrist.

Part Three

Ryuji Yamazaki stood before a strange man wearing all blue, holding the
edge of his coat with one hand.
He had to admit it was a pretty good look.
However, Ryuji's own outfit was far superior. His collarless shirt and
tuxedo pants were black down the middle and gray on the sides, two colors which
Ryuji wore well. And then the white fur coat draped over his shoulders topped it
off perfectly.
This man was a fashion innovator, but Ryuji was... a pimp. Not literally,
of course, but the word had been applied to him before.
"Mr. Yamazaki?" the man asked, snapping Ryuji out of his reverie.
"Eh?" Ryuji said with a start, "Were you saying something?"
The man rolled his eyes a little, then bowed. "I am Goenitz, the Orochi
warrior of the winds."
Ryuji raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "And?"
"I have come to ask you to join our cause... To help revive our lord the
Orochi."
"I... see," Ryuji said slowly, ready to call his men to remove this weird
cult member at any time, "And why should I help, um, the Orochi?"
Goenitz smiled and quietly intoned, "Because it is in your blood."
"My blood, you say?" Ryuji stated, grasping the Blade of Judgement within
his pocket.
"Yes... for you are an Orochi warrior as well," Goenitz stated plainly,
"The Beautiful Chaos of a Dream? Does that ring any bells?"
As Goenitz said those strange words, Ryuji could feel a melody about him,
in the air. It filled him with hope, with sadness, with regret and mostly with
hate. Ryuji stared at the smirking German for a few moments, trying to figure
out whether he was telling the truth or not.
"Ah, I see you are indeed the man whom I have sought..."
"What do you want, Kraut?" Ryuji asked, getting fed up.
"I only ask that you pledge your allegiance to the Orochi... that you help
us however you can."
"What's in it for me?"
Goenitz blinked and looked at Ryuji with complete confusion. "What?"
Ryuji sighed. "How much are you paying me? Money? Services? Women? My
employment has a price, you know."
Goenitz shook his head a little, trying to grasp the situation, "I see
that you are not a heavenly king, as I had thought... Then your allegiance to
the Orochi is easily swayed... very well, I will pay you ten thousand dollars a
year."
Ryuji's left hand flashed out of his pocket and imbedded the Blade of
Judgement a good three inches into the ground at Goenitz's feet with a heavy
thok.
"You punk... Don't insult me!"
"That..." Goenitz said, obviously trying not to look at the foot-long
knife, "That is not enough?"
"No."
"Then I have nothing else to offer you, save the grace of the Orochi."
Ryuji sneered. "Grace, my ass! Now get out of here before I get angry!"
"But perhaps," Goenitz began, "We may share a common goal..."
"What's that?" Ryuji asked, not really caring anymore.
Goenitz looked skyward, smiling darkly. "To purify the world of all
humankind... To go back to the purity of nature without human scum."
"Why," Ryuji asked, narrowing his eyes, "Would I want to do that? That's
about the LAST damn thing I'd ever want! So why don't you peddle your apocalypse
elsewhere, alright?"
As Ryuji began to walk away, he felt a strong wind to his back. Suddenly,
Goenitz appeared before him in a dusty tornado, face expressionless.
"It saddens me to have to do this to one of the bloodline, but if you
would deny us, you must perish."
Ryuji threw off his coat and grinned widely, eyes wide and wild.
"Finally... I was wondering when I'd get to kill you."
Goenitz paused for half a second before continuing. "I am one of the four
heavenly kings of the Orochi. If you will not join me, you will die, as Guidel,
warrior of Water, did."
"So you killed him, eh?" Ryuji asked, flexing various joints to limber
them up.
"No," Goenitz grinned, "I had his daughter do it."
Ryuji cocked his head at the older man. "I almost like you, windy...
anyway, bring it on!"
Ryuji leaned forward, lolling out an impossibly long tongue. He was
taunting Goenitz, foremost of the Orochi! Goenitz chuckled at the stupidity of
the man and leaned forward to claw him in the face. Goenitz's fingers dug deep
into Ryuji's cheek with a sharpness gained by Orochi lineage, spilling the fool's
blood everywhere.
"That hurt, asshole!" Yamazaki screamed at a fever pitch, and immediately
pounded Goenitz's face into the pavement with his insanely strong left arm.
Goenitz groggily picked himself up to see Yamazaki licking the blood up
that had dribbled near his mouth. His left hand was once again in his pocket,
and he was grinning even more insanely than before. He slowly wiped the blood
off of his face to reveal wounds already half-healed.
Goenitz was paying too much attention to that, and suddenly got slapped in
the face. From several feet away.
"The snake arms?" Goenitz sputtered, looking at the man in black, "How did
you learn those?"
"Shut up!" Ryuji shouted gleefully, laughing as he kicked dirt at the
German.
As Goenitz wiped dirt from his eyes, he decided that enough was enough. He
lifted his arm, and with a flick of the wrist, he focused a column of wind
around the foolish gangster.
Ryuji stood there, clothes and flesh sliced by the wind.
Goenitz stared in shock as Ryuji ran at him in a rage. "How... How did you
withstaaaaRGH!"
Ryuji smiled as the Blade of Judgement sank deep into Goenitz's stomach.
Goenitz gasped and stumbled backwards. He weakly lifted a hand to summon forth the
winds again.
As he disappeared in a gust, he choked, "You live today, Yamazaki... but
next time will be different..."
Ryuji rolled his eyes and walked away.

Part Four
1988

A small blue-haired girl wandered the jungles of Brazil, searching for
food. She had been alone for months, and it was all she knew. Before her
solitude was... blank. She had an impression of blue, and her parents dying, and
the savory taste of blood.
And the Beautiful Chaos of a Dream.
But that was all. She was alone now, and every day it was harder to find
food and shelter. She was slowly dying, she could tell. But she didn't really
care. She didn't have anything to look forward to anyway.
And so she sat in the little hidden cave one day, waiting for something,
anything.

"Damn!" Heidern shouted, catching a bullet in the arm. He had thought that
he could get out without being detected, but he was completely wrong. And the
backup plan wasn't working overly well, either. Ralf and Clark were hardly
drawing any of the men away, and Heidern was forced to simply run away.
At least he had got what they'd come for. This bit of information on the
disk in his hand would help him cripple the South American operations of the
Bernstein Connection for months to come.
But he was still being chased... wait! There was a cave he could duck
into. If he got out of their sight for a minute, they'd keep on running, and he
could rest for a while. It was a good enough plan, and he implemented it well.
"!"
Heidern heard a small voice give a gutteral start behind him. He quickly
turned on a flashlight and turned around, whipping out a pistol.
"Rrr!"
There, before him, was a naked, tattered scrap of a girl. She was growling
like an animal, and had backed into a corner.
After his confusion, he began to feel sympathy for her. That and she
looked like... little Clara. God rest her soul.
"It's alright, little one... I won't hurt you."
The girl calmed a little as he said it, and began forward when he offered
her some water from a canteen. As she drank from it, he saw her true nature. She
was a frightened little girl with no home of her own. Someone who needed a way.
But that blue hair was a little odd. Well, perhaps it was related to why
she was alone in the jungle.
As she sat before him, eating some of his rations hungrily, he remembered
his own daughter. It seemed like it had been so long ago, but the pain still
seemed fresh. But this... this girl was comforting. And she really did need
someone.
He decided that after it was safe, that he would bring her out of this
jungle. And then he would find a home for her. Maybe even his own.
The girl looked at him, a wan glimmer of hope in her eyes.
"Leona," He said, the name of his grandmother, a woman who was tough as
nails and whom he had always looked up to, "I name you Leona."
In time, she fell asleep against his side.

------------

Chapter 3 tomorrow.

-Forrest "Wacam" Walker

------------------
Goenitz2.0: Stronger, faster, and 1.5 times more alive than ever before.

Hell's Promise
Volume One: The Story of two Girls

Chapter 3

Part One

June 8, 1987, Somewhere in the vastness of Siberia

Vice brushed the hair out of her face as she rode in the rickety truck headed for her new home. Goenitz had given her forged papers and passes of various kinds to get her in and out of Siberia at will, as he wouldn't be able to carry transport himself, much less others, that distance very often or very easily.
But it was that same distance that was their best friend, as they had to stay as far out of sight as possible. The revival of the Orochi was a long and slow process, and not one others would take kindly to. Having a secret lair in the depths of nowhere was definitely an asset. And Siberia was the place to do that.
Vice shivered and brought her outer jacket even closer to her. Unfortunately, Siberia was about as cold as you could possibly get without killing yourself. She was supposed to be in tune with the cold, as it went along with the whole darkness bent, but she obviously hadn't achieved some kind of Zen of Orochi, because she was freezing her ass off and not liking it.
Vice lifted her head in surprise as the truck stopped and the driver said something in Russian. It was pretty clear he was declaring that they had reached their destination, especially since everyone else was getting out of the truck. Gathering her belongings, Vice hopped out stiffly and followed the others into the station at the edge of the small town. She hoped to find the other person Goenitz claimed would be waiting for her soon.

Mature sighed as she sat on a nearby bench, waiting for a truck to arrive. Whoever arrived first was supposed to wait for the other at the station until they showed up. As no one had been there with a sign reading 'Mature,' she was stuck with the job. It wouldn't have been so bad but for the fact that she had to be there pretty much 24/7, as transports had schedules pinpointed to days, not hours.
Suddenly, she heard a loud bang at the edge of her perception and immediately stood. It wasn't a gunshot, she could tell that, so that really only left a few options. The sound of tires on gravel shortly after confirmed her suspicions that it was the long-awaited truck. Mature stood, but held back a smile, as she still wasn't sure it was the right truck.
As it finally pulled into the station's attempt at a drive, she picked up the sign reading only 'Vice,' and waited for hopefully the last time that day. Watching the tattered people make their way out, she wondered what sort of person went by the name 'Vice.' While her own pseudonym was a bit odd, she couldn't help but wonder what sort of man Vice would be, and if he would be more skilled than her.
She gave a start as she saw one of the passengers, a woman shivering more than the rest, smile a little and stare in her direction. Apparently Vice was a woman, and a young-looking one, at that. Hopefully, she wouldn't be too much of a drag on the operation, but looks could be decieving.

"You Mature?" Vice asked, pulling out the sign given to her by Goenitz and giving the lithe blonde a once-over.
She shook her head. "That's me. You must be Vice, then," Mature stated, letting her eyes wander across the brunette's frame.
"That's what people call me," she replied, pulling out a cigarette, "Can you guess how that started?"
Mature scoffed. "If you want, I could show you how I got my name..." she cooed in a mock-sultry voice, smiling a little nervously.
"Maybe later," Vice said, grinning and looking Mature in the eyes. For a moment, she saw a predatory look in Vice's eyes she genuinely wasn't expecting. She liked it.
"I think we're going to get along, Vice," Mature said as they began walking to the inn.
Vice put her arm around Mature, for warmth as much as anything else. "Good," she stated, letting her hand slip down to the other woman's hips, "Otherwise I won't get to screw you."
Mature allowed her self a moment of happy surprise.

Vice sat in the bath, letting her tension soak out and the heat to soak in. After all that traveling, she was glad to hav somewhere to sit for a few days, at least until Goenitz arrived with the rest of their ride. He had made a point that he was going to arrive a bit after they did so that they could get to know each other better, as they were going to be working together "Very intimately."
Running her hands over her body under the water, Vice smiled and wondered just HOW intimately. Rarely had she ever taken a liking to someone as fast as Mature, and she could tell the other woman felt more or less the same way. Of course, it could be the fact that they were both Orochi "Hakketsu Shuu."
But either way, that girl was hot, and that helped things out tremendously. Vice smiled even more as she imagined all the interesting things Mature probably knew. It was when Vice started getting a little more into it that she realized just how long it had been since the last time. That was probably clouding her judgement, at least a little. Then again, she hadn't fought in a while either, and her frustration in one end of the spectrum tended to show itself at the other end as well.
Perhaps she'd get to do a little of both.

Mature slowed down as she passed the door to the bathroom, her sixth sense flashing. After a moment her suspicions were confirmed by a slight moan from within. That little thing was enjoying herself in there. Resisting the urge to barge in and finish what Vice had started, Mature smiled to herself and instead managed to peer momentarily through the impossibly old keyhole.
Inside was a scene she'd remember next time she intended to do the same thing. Yet another vice to add to the list. It really wasn't a wonder she had earned that name. As she stood up silently and made her way to the bed, she continued thinking about the woman she had just met. Whispering the other girl's name, she sprawled across the huge bed.
Something about how earthy and lowbrow Vice was simply appealed to Mature. They say that opposites attract, but she hadn't ever really seen it in action until now. But really, they weren't total opposites, when she thought about it. It was obvious they both loved sex and violence, and they had both always been somewhat alone.
From the conversation they had, Mature had learned that Vice's first signs of ther bloodline happened after a terrible trauma at a young age, and that she had barely seen her parents since. On the other hand, Mature's parent's had been murdered at about the same time. While not exactly the same lives, they could definitely empathize with one another, and that was more than a little reassuring. For the first time in her life, she could talk with someone who wouldn't see her as a freak or a monster.
Someone who also vomited blood.
Mature sighed as she held a pillow against herself.

Vice shook like an animal, sending sprays of water all around the bathroom. She'd seen dogs and cats do that, and had quickly realized it was the fastest way to get dry. Just as wringing her hair out was the fastest way for it to get dry. And for that matter, it was better to walk around naked.
Getting a thought, Vice grinned mischievously.
"The bathroom's free," she stated, calmly walking out, toweling her hair.
Mature uncurled from her position on the bed and turned to look at the source of the voice, only to see Vice walk out of the bathroom, nude save for the towel on her head and the red band tattooed on her upper left arm.
Mature blinked twice, unmoving. Vice smiled and asked, "What?"
"You're naked."
Vice shrugged. "I get dry faster this way."
Mature raised an eyebrow. "I see. Well, I guess I'll take my own bath, now," She said, standing swiftly.
Vice almost laughed as she sat on a nearby chair, but promptly stopped when Mature began to disrobe in the middle of the room. Now that she saw more of that slender body, she was even more glad she went with this plan.
"Shouldn't you do that in the other room?" Vice asked, sensually drying herself off with the towel.
Mature shot a look at Vice as she slipped her thumbs into her panties. "I get wet faster this way."
With that, Mature pulled her panties off and threw them onto Vice's head, immediately walking into the bathroom and closing the door.
Eyes wide, Vice slowly lifted the undergarment off of her head and felt that what Mature had said was, indeed, true.

After a relaxing half-hour, Mature finally lifted free of the bath and made her way into the main room, toweling herself off softly. If Vice wtill wanted to play this game, Mature was more than willing to. To her suprise, however, she found Vice laying on the bed, asleep, but not happy. Her lower body was covered by the comforter, but her still-nude torso was covered in sweat. Her face was locked in an expression of fear, and her breathing was ragged.
She was obviously having a nightmare of the most terrible kind. Mature cringed slightly as Vice let out a slight noise, almost a sob. Whatever intentions Mature had a moment ago had vanished at the sight of Vice suffering in her own personal hell.
Dropping her towel, Mature slowly made her way to the opposite side of the huge bed. Timid for the first time in years, she slipped underneath the comforter beside the other woman, hearing her fast breath coming in hurried busts. Gently, she put Vice's hand in her own and brought it up to her chest. For a moment she lay like that, feeling Vice's hand squeeze hers desperately.
Eventually, Mature wrapped her arm around Vice's torso, pulling her into an embrace. For a second the sleeping girl held still, but then sighed with needed release and buried herself in the other woman's arms unconciously. Mature felt drops of heat on her neck, and felt the girl shudder slightly as she cried silently in her sleep.
For the first time in years, Mature cried, too.

Vice was running from him. She had been running forever, but it didn't help. No matter where she went, he was there, clipping at her heels, leaving a trail of blood pouring from his face. It was happening again, and she couldn't stop it. Every so often, she would get tired and fall, or slow down, and he would be on her, pushing into her.
She tried to fight him off, but she was too weak, as one always is in dreams, and the blood pouring out of his gaping hole for a nose was choking her. And suddenly, she was small, and young, and helpless. With a gargantuan effort, she slipped free and began running again. Soon, she could see her house ahead, and she could hide there. In a second she was on it, and slamming her hand into the glass door, trying to get her mother's attention.
But then she saw her mother, laying in a pool of her own blood, and sinking into it. And the purple darkness filled her world and the man was on her again and his serpent has attacking her and the blood was on everything and all she knew was pain again and it was all she would ever know.
And then someone grabbed her hand, gently.
She felt a warm embrace pulling her free, a bastion of caring rescuing her. But still, he chased her, even though she could run faster now. And she kept running, holding onto whoever it was that was helping her, hoping that they could help her get away and be free from her life.
And then she felt the person's other arm across her, and she was pulled into her room in her grandmother's house, and for a second she was confused. And then she realized that he was gone, and she was safe, and that there was someone who had saved her. That for the first time in years, someone had saved her from him.
And she grabbed onto the woman and cried, and the other woman did, too, her blond hair sticking to her face, and it was sad and it was beautiful.
And when Vice woke up in the middle of the night and saw Mature laying beside her, gently embracing her, and felt the wetness they had made on the pillow, she smiled a sort of smile she'd never had before. And she kissed her on the forehead, and drifted off again, and slept more peacefully than she ever had since it had happened.
And she knew then, that she always wanted to hold this woman in her arms.


Part Two

September 9th-12th, 1987, Southtown, Mexico

Mature smiled as she felt the warmth of the Mexcican sun upon her face. For two months she had been in the cold dead of Siberia, and being in sunny Southtown Mexico was as close to Heaven as she needed. The very air around her swam with vibrancy and life. She felt the soul of this city all around herm rained on by the pure, golden sun.
Basically, she was happy.

Vice groaned as she felt the heat of the Mexican sun upon her face. While it was a nice change of pace from the insane cold and loneliness of Siberia, it was also really, really hot. In September! It's not supposed to be hot in September! June, July, maybe August... but not Sep-fucking-tember! She sneered at Mature, who was basking like some furry animal as they strode down the busy street. Ugh.
Basically, she was not happy.

Goenitz stood atop Geese tower, smiling to hiself. In the time they had been with him, their training had come farther than he had expected. Mature, especially, was proving to be very professional. Of course, this probably had to do more with her past than anything else, but Vice simply lacked that distanced emotion necessary to be truly efficient.
Not that Goenitz had it, mind you. His heart was close to his work. A smile crept warmly across his face as he thought of this ravaged plot of Mexican soil being returned to its true nature. In his mind, he could see a verdent forest spreading across downtown, with a stream flowing into the sea not far away. The sky blue and the water clear, birds would fly from tree to tree, singing their song of balance and harmony.
That was beauty. The sanctity of nature. The balance of life. These ugly monoliths of stone and steel gouged into the ground dug into his heart. The furrows of mines and hatred stretched out across the globe, eating at the life of this world he loved so much. And the agriculture was the worst of it all, forcing a disgusting parody of nature onto the unsuspecting fields.
These humans had raped the world, and he hated them for it. Even beyond that, he hated himself for numbering among them. He could feel the pain of the delicate system that was life. All of the Heavenly Kings could. That was why their allegiance could not be swayed. Every ditch, every house, every further thrust into the virginity of the world echoed throughout his own being. Even as he stood, the corrupted wind sickening him, he shed a tear, feeling the balance of life cryning under the grip of this Mexican town.
Poison.
Famine.
Disease.
Fear.
All these things resonated inside him as he let his empathy loose. Death was natural, and happened in nature all the time. Even disease and pain were essential. But it was not like this. It was not a hopeless inharmony, forcing the world into subjugation. And that was why humans had to die.
They had grown too large.
The earth was not theirs. It was its own. And soon, they would learn that the hard way.

Goenitz wiped the tear off his face and smiled sadly. "I will help protect you, mother..."

Geese Howard stepped off the elevator to see a man standing in his private garden. This was a place where no one but he, Billy, and whoever he decided was worthy to fight him were allowed. This man was not either of the former, but looked to perhaps be one of the latter. It took skill to get to the top floor without an elevator...
"You!" Geese shouted from across his open-air dojo, "Who are you?"
The man turned around, his long silver hair flowing in the wind. "I am a messenger of our saviour, the Orochi."
"Orochi?" Geese mumbled, recognizing the legend, "That doesn't matter to me. I asked who you were, peon."
The man smiled. "Peon? No more than you, Mr. Krauser..." he teased, "Or, wait... it was your brother who got to have that name, wasn't it?"
Geese flinched as this blue bastard brought up the subject of his father. If leaving your wife to die was what it took to gain a good name, Geese would rather make his own.
"It's Howard," Geese said loudly, "A name I wear proudly. But what, might I ask, is yours?"
"That is unimportant," the man said, vanishing into thin air.
Geese stood for a moment, completely unmoving. After almost a minute, he sat in a lotus position, hakama folding beneath him.
"Orochi..."

"Are you sure about this?" Vice said, looking at the sign of the tattoo parlor.
Mature shot her a sidelong glance and grinned. "I happen to know that this is the best parlor in this hemishpere, dear."
Vice raised an eyebrow. "How do you know that?"
"When you work for the people I did, you just know certain things..." Mature replied, cocking her head back and smiling under half-lidded eyes.
"If you say so..."
Mature grabbed Vice's hand and pulled her forcefully into the parlor, and off the back alley. "You've already got the band, haven't you? It'll look good."
Vice bit her lip. "Yeah, but... well... I can't really go back on this, you know?"
As a thin, long-haired man who looked like a hippy more than anything else stepped out of the back room, Mature nudged Vice with her elbow. "You're next, Vanessa."
A low growl rumbled in Vice's throat for a moment before she walked over to the scrawny man. She began let her unsureness take over before deciding it was pointless. "You the artist?"
His eyes lit a little at being called an artist. "That's me."
"Can you do... this?" She asked, producing a drawing of a serpent curled in a yin-yang shape. The artist smiled at the picture, his hands automatically going through later-necessary motions. "Yeah... Yeah, that's nice. I like it. Where's it gonna be?"
Vice almost blushed for a moment. "Here," she said, turning around and pulling her button-down shirt down, "On my back."
"Rockin'" He agreed, tracing a line on her back with his fingers, "And what color?"
Vice lifted her left arm up, pointing at the band tattooed on it. "That."
"Ooh, blood red... you're an evil one, ain't ya?"
Mature chuckled. "I should think so."
Vice was pleased by this, for some reason.
"Heh!" The artist choked, "I like your style! C'mon, let's get to work."
Vice beathed deeply, and proceeded to follow the wiry man into his studio. Suddenly, she noticed Mature standing to join them. Slightly relievedm she asked, "You coming, too?"
"I wouldn't miss this for the world," She chuckled, letting her hand brush against Vice's exposed back as she caught up with her.
Vice shivered slightly.

Two hours later, Vice stood, feeling the vastness of the new tattoo. It made her whole back numb and awkward, and it wasn't something she was entirely accustomed to. Any pain inherent on the process was lost on her, though, as she had long since made an agreement with pain.
Numbness, though... that was another story.
"God, I forgot how wierd that feels..."
The artist smiled, counting the cash Mature had handed him. "It always does... but don't worry, that'll go away quick."
Vice knew this already, but it was sort of nice to hear him reassure her. "So... how does it look?"
"It's some of my best," the man said, pocketing the cash, "If I do say so myself."
That wasn't who she was asking, and they all knew it. She turned her head, shooting a hopeful glance at Mature. When they made eye contact, Mature's teasing expression melted away, and she strode toward Vice smoothly.
"It's beautiful, Vanessa," Dani said, putting one hand on Vanessa's shoulder and the other on her back, tracing the smooth curve, "It looks perfect on you."
Vanessa felt warmth come to her face, and not for entirely sexual reasons. Hearing that had made her feel... good. "R... really, Dani? You like it?"
Dani responded by leaning forward and embracing Vanessa from behind. "It's you..." And then in a whisper, "And that's why I love it."
As the two girls made their way out of the shop, the artist smiled. It was always nice to see young love.
Especially between two really hot chicks. He chortled and returned to his counter.

Vanessa lay awake, thinking of what Dani had said. No one had ever been able to make her feel like that. To make her feel real. To make her feel... loved. The thought that she could matter to this other girl was a good thought, and she chose to stay on it. Dani meant a lot to her, too. In fact, if pressed to make a decision now, she might even say she was in...
"Vanessa?" Dani said, interrupting her train of thought.
"Eh?"
Dani turned on the king-size bed to face the brown-haired girl. "I didn't mean to... freak you out back there..."
"Wh... what do you mean?" Vanessa asked, sitting up more.
Dani looked furtively for a moment, as if trying to skirt an issue she was unfamiliar with. "I... it sounded like I told you... that I..."
There was a pause as Dani composed her thoughts.
"I..." She continued, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable... that if you... if you thought I said I... L..."
"It's okay."
Dani stopped, looking Vanessa in the eyes. "What?"
"It's okay if you..." Vanessa started, trailing off, "It wouldn't make me... uncomfortable."
Vanessa saw something like hope light up in Dani's eyes. "You... you mean?"
"I think... this..." Vanessa said, timidly putting her hand to Dani's cheek, "Answers your question..."
Slowly, Vanessa brought Danis' head to her own and softly kissed her, feeling the pain in herself echoed in someone else...
After a moment, she pulled away, looking at Dani, seeing the beauty beyond her face. A pair of tears streaked her cheeks, and her eyes almost glowed.
In fact, they were glowing slightly.
"I...." Dani said, holding ont Vanessa's hand, "Thank you..."
Dani felt the nervousness fade a little, seeing Dani's soul exposed to her, out for her to touch.
"The light..."
Dani opened her mouth, confused. "What?"
"I'm the Darkness..." Vanessa said, feeling the light from inside Dani warm the endless cold she felt inside herself, "And you're the Light..."

Dani could see the irises of Vanessa's brown eyes become pits of pure black, deeper and hollower than anything she had ever imagined. "Yes..."
Vanessa smiled, and a single tear rolled down her face, a tinge of grey in it, "Pure Light..."
Dani felt the pain inside Vanessa, and felt an endless cold so foreign to her... a life without heat, without true feeling and full of the empty hollow pain of irreality.
"Beautiful Dark..." Dani said, pulling Vanessa to her.
They lay there for a while, to long to be measured, and too short to be enough.

"Be with me..." Vanessa said, holding onto the first thing she had ever truly wanted to keep.
Dani smiled. "If you insist..."

And soon, they fell asleep, Vanessa's back finally not numb.

Part Three

November 10th, 1987, Dijon, France

Yashiro Nanakase stood, feeling the life in the soil around him. It was a good feeling, and it was even better outside of Japan. Most people had to save for years to travel the world, but not him. Even though he was only a teen, he was able to make his way across this earth. It loved him, and he loved it. It was easy to find rides, or walk if he had to.
He'd walked from Berlin to Paris, and he loved every minute of it.
Slowly, he bowed, hearing the applause of the people beofre him. Looking at his guitar case, he saw plenty of coins in it, more than enough for a meal. Smiling, he scooped them up, and let out a hearty, "Merci!" It was one of the few french words he knew, and it was a good one.
As he snapped his guitar case closed, he felt a tug at his red t-shirt.
"Eh?"
Before him was a girl, perhaps a year younger than him, with short hair, but bangs covering her eyes.
"Ah, konnichiwa, Monsieur..."
He smiled as she used a Japanese word.
"I was wondering," she continued in shockingly good Japanese, "If you'd like to play with me?"
Yashiro stared at her for a moment. He didn't know what she meant by that. As his eyes wandered to her already-supple chest, he began to get some ideas.
Even through that hair, she seemed to notice his gaze, however, as she blushed and batted at him. "Oh, you are bad! That is not what I meant!"
He laughed. "What did you mean, Ms..."
"Renault. Shermie Renault."
"Shermie," He finished, liking the sound of that name.
She continued, adjusting her tigh shirt, "I wanted to know if you would let me play my keyboard with you."
"Oh...." He said, comprehension filling his features. She was a musician. "Sure."
He wouldn't mind having someone else play with him, and the happiness that shone on what he could see of her face was worth it alone. Almost blushing, he ran hand through his unkempt white hair.
"Oh, thank you, thank you! I love how you play..." She paused. "But I do not know your name!"
"Yashiro Nanakase!" She said proudly, standing tall.
"Yashiro... I think we will be friends, Yashiro."
He smiled. He certainly hoped so.

----------------

More still to come.

-Forrest "If anyone reads it" Walker

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Goenitz2.0: Stronger, faster, and 1.5 times more alive than ever before.

Excellent fanfic, this world really does lack intelligence, thank god there is a couple of us left.....

I waited for part III cause I already feedbacked the first two chapters back at ON. But this is really good stuff. The prose flows well and the dialogue really shows the characters well. You got yourself a fan

Okay, that would be the end of Volume One. Here, for you to read, is the predlude of Volume Two.


--------------


Hell's Promise

Volume Two: Mistakes and Abuse

Prelude

Part One

April 15, 1984, The Pacific

Rugal Bernstein sat at his table, enjoying the quiet comforts of a meal
alone. Of course, he was not completely alone. Teufelslieb, his pet panther,
sat obediently at his side, eating meat fit for some lesser kings.
Life had been good for Rugal. After the years of living alone in the streets
of Argentina, he had eventually found his way into one of the local gangs, and
from there it was an easy trip...

Rugal laughed as he thought back to that day, less than a year ago, when he
stood atop this same BlackNoah, then called the U.S.S. Enterprise. He had smiled when
the foolish soldiers had lifted their guns at him. He simply lifted his remote in
return, cable streaming from it to the ship below. Having secured a nuclear device,
it was child's play to prove that he would use it.
All he had to do was to blow up a little research base in Antarctica with another.
After that, the U.S. Navy seemed to decide that the loss of one aircraft carrier
wouldn't be so bad, if it meant keeping a madman from destroying a Pacific city.
The Enterprise had crept gracefully out of ts moorings and into the night, its
new master atop it. He had no intention to blow any city up, of course, as that would
lose him credibility, as well as get him blown up, which the various militaries of the
world easily could. But as long as he kept his threat up, and remained solely a business-
man and not a dictator, he would be left alone, to enjoy his hard-earned life.

But some didn't see it that way. Of course, people would take action against his
illegal activities within the various nations. It was just that some of them seemed more
indignant about it than others.
Maria and Clara Heidern walked in, sitting at the other end of the table. He was
glad to see that they had finally decided to take him up on his offer. Yes, he had
kidnapped them to use as ransom against the "Ikari Warriors," but he was no monster.
He didn't have anything against them, and thought it would be nice to make their stay
as nice as possible.
Of course, they had to be stubborn about it. Refusing food and drink, plotting to
escape, turning down tours of the BlackNoah... It was sad. He even bought them new clothes.

"Nice to see you," Rugal said, genuinely meaning it, "I hope you enjoy what Pablo has
prepared for us. Ghoulash is his specialty."
Clara dug into the bready substange wholeheartedly.
Maria scowled at him as she picked away.
Rugal frowned a bit. "Are you still on this kick?"
Maria scowled at him, taking him a little aback, "What do you mean, 'kick?'"
Rugal was speechless.
"You kidnap us from our home in the night, and hold us prisoner here, just to get at
my husband. And you call this a kick? I think you have problems, Bernstein."
"I see," He said, genuinely feeling bad, "I had thought you'd be more undersanding.
While you appear to see that I'm just keeping you here because of your husband, you don't
seem to be able to accept my hospitality."
Maria snorted.
"But, I suppose you just can't distance yourself from the situation..." He sighed.
"What are you going to do then?" She asked indignantly, "Throw us in the brig for
our insolence?"
"What?" Rugal sputtered, truly shocked, "What do I look like, a cartoon villan? No,
of course not. If you don't wish to accept my hospitality, that's your own business. But
I'll keep offering it, all the same. I'm not a monster, you know."
Maria raised an eyebrow, surprised.
But that didn't change her attitude much.

Ralf Jones looked at Clark Steel across the rattling bay of the helicopter, concern
written on his boyish features. Clark returned the sentimet, eyes straying to the commander
from behind dark sunglasses. Heidern sat apart from everyone else in the helicopter, looking
more downcast than anyone could remember him being.
Ever since his family had been kidnapped, Heidern hadn't been able to operate properly.
Not even Ralf and Clark's endless tussling could get his attention most of the time. Of
course, all the men understood, but that didn't change the fact that it couldn't go on. It
was adversely affecting the operation, and that was more important than one man or his family.
And that was why this mission had been ordered.
The attack on Rugal was clearly meant as a rescue operation for Heidern's family. That
was obvious from the outset. Normally, this would be looked down upon as the commander using
the force for his own benefit, but everyone wanted to see him back to his old self.
Hence the justification: an attack on Bernstein was necessary to stop his recent rash
of drug trafficing. Once again, some parts of the UN which tended to stay unknown were footing
the bill for this mercenary force.
Smiling nervously, Ralf swallowed and hoped that this would be a success.

"Mr. Bernstein, sir," A man in a black tuxedo said, edging into the dining room.
Maria looked up from her dessert to see Rugal conversing with this man, a look of concern
growing on his chiseled face.
While Maria was trying her best not to get her hopes up, Rugal's grimace turned to a
predatory smile, spanning his strong jaw. "He wants to challenge me, does he?" Rugal said,
almost laughing, "Then I will let him."
"But, sir..."
Rugal shot his servant a deadly glare. "Only he may be allowed to find his way to my
trophy room, do you understand?"
The man looked ready to say something, but either fear of hopelessness took hold, and he
shut his mouth, turning swiftly away.
"Anything wrong, kind sir?" Maria asked, keeping as cool as possible.
Rugal turned, and his eyes were fire for a moment, but the flicker died as quickly as it
appeared. "It seems your loving husband has come to get you," Rugal said, turning his head back
as he walked briskly out of the dining room, "I would pray for him, were I you."

Heidern steeled his brow, scanning the room. They had fought tooth and nail, but they had
managed to get to the center of the dreaded BlackNoah. he stood for a moment, waiting until Ralf
and Clark returned from their sweep of the area. He continued to look forward as his two best men
resumed their places next to him and gave their positive signals.
The only thing left was to go through the door in front of him.
To face Rugal himself.
"Ralf, Clark," Heidern spoke, still looking forward.
"Yes, sir?" They said in unison.
"I'm going in alone."
"What?" Ralf exclaimed.
Clark followed with, "Permission to speak freely, sir?"
"Denied, Steel," Heidern said, beginning to slowly walk toward the door, "You are to rejoin
the rest of the forces and keep this position secure. Do you understand?"
"..."
Heidern's voice raised slightly. "I said, do you understand?"
"Yes, sir..." The two men said, not quite as enthusiastically as before.
Ralf and Clark turned and made their way back to the clamor of machinegun fire, but not without
shooting a glance back at their commanding officer first. They hoped it wouldn't be their last.

Rugal smiled as he heard the door to his dimly lit trophy room open. Even though he had seen that
it was Heidern, and Heidern alone by way of video camera, he still allowed himself to be a little
pleasantly surprised. He would finally get to test his mettle against someone who was at least near
his level of prowess.
And it would feel good to get this particular thorn out of his side. Heidern's little troop
had already cost him millions, and if he didn't seriously demoralize them now, they would cost him
millions more.
"Hello, Mr. Heidern," Rugal said, rising from his plush armchair, "I was hoping you would
stop by."
Heidern's eyes smoldered with barely hidden rage as he slowly plodded to where Rugal stood.
"Where is my family, Bernstein?"
Rugal stood to the side to reveal Maria and Clara behind him, sitting on a rather nice sofa.
"Right here," Rugal said calmly, smiling a little, "Safe and sound."
Despite the relief that was clear in his features, Heidern still spat, "If you've hurt them,
Bernstein..."
Rugal sighed. "Of course I didn't hurt them. Why would I? I'd much rather have happy guests
than miserble ones. And I'm not an animal."
Heidern huffed, getting slowly closer to his family, clearly wary of a trap. They were, on
the other hand, remaining still, though Maria had to hold Clara to accomplish this.
"Your family can join you," Rugal said, halting Heidern's tentative progress, "If you defeat
me."
"And if I lose?" Heidern asked, straining to see the vast unlit walls.
Rugal pushed a button. "You join them instead."
The lights flooded on, revealing dozens of bronze statues of warriors, faces frozen in agony.
No, not statues.
Bronzed warriors.

Heidern almost threw up.

"You don't like my trophies?" Rugal asked, enjoying this little dialogue.
Heidern's only response was to assume his fighting stance.
"I see... Very well, let us begin."
Heidern immediately ran toward Rugal, initiating the battle. Rugal smiled as he readied himself
to block the telegraphed attack...
When Heidern stopped in mid-run, crouching on the ground. Rugal raised an eyebrow and waited for
a second. Nothing. After another few seconds, still nothing. Growling softly, he decided it was time to
take the offensive, and ran at the beret-clad man.
Right when Rugal's hand should have connected with some, ANY part of Heidern, it found nothing but
empty space.
Rugal's neck, on the other hand, found Heidern's hands around it. Heidern, who had miraculously
leapt over Rugal's head, suddenly shoved himself off something, Rugal didn't know what, and began to spin
impossibly quickly, using the knifelike grip in Rugal's throat as an anchor point.

"Gyaaaaargh!"
The flesh of Rugal's neck finally gave way, and Heidern dropped as gracefull to the floor as one
possibly could, considering what he had just done.
"Impressive," Rugal said, using his white scarf to sop up some of the blood, "But not good enough."
Before Heidern could move, Rugal was on him, his massive hand gripping into Heidern's chest.
Heidern felt himself moving, and he realized that Rugal was carrying him by the chest, running at full
tilt toward the hard, metal wall of the trophy room. Heidern tried to do something, anything to escape
the dread grip, but before he sould even think of what to do, the wall was right in front of him...
And he felt himself moved again, and he could tell Rugal was pushing him into the wall, and he
could'nt even think of what was happening before...

WHANG!

And Heidern slumped to the ground, head swimming and stomach threatening to show him what he ate
for lunch. He had taken the force directly to the back, and he only now realized that it had knocked the
wind out of him. He tried to get it back, but he couldn't move his chest, not even a little. And the
stabbing, horrible pain was something he recognized as a few broken ribs.
Gaining enough composure to look up, he saw that mammoth hand coming for him again.
But this time it didn't aim for his chest. Instead, it kept approaching his point of view, too
close for comfort, and when he finally realized where it was going, he couldn't do anything to stop it.

"Yaaaaah!"
Rugal lifted his hand, looking at the prize it held.
"I've taken your eye, Heidern..." Rugal said, crushing the extracted organ underfoot, "In exchange
for your family."
Heidern, clutching the empty socket, only looked up at him, breating ragged.
"I've decided to be merciful. You were a better a opponent than I've fought in years, so I thought
I'd offer you the chance to leave, with your family."
"W....Why..." Heidern gasped, futily trying to stand.
"Because I respect you," He answered, motioning Maria and Clara to join Heidern, "And because now you
know what else you could lose if you cross me again."
Heidern managed to stumble to his feet and hissed, "Liar! Maria! Stay back!"
"No..." Maria said, still approaching, "He's telling the truth."
"What?" Heidern said, stumbling toward his wife.
"He's a madman, yes," Maria noted, catching her falling husband, "But not a liar... let's just go
home now, Conrad.... I want to go home..."
Rugal smiled at the toughing reunion. It was always nice to see someone learn a life lesson. And
without having to pay a bigger price than an eye, no less. "Feel free to visit any time, Heidern; I
welcome your company."
While Rugal stood magnanimously, something inside Heidern apparently snapped. Rugal suddenly felt
a hand on his head, and just as swiftly, another in his gut. Before he could edge out a word, even a grunt,
he felt what was probably the strangest thing in his life.
Heidern was sucking Rugal's blood out with his arm.
"Go to HELL!" Heidern shouted, a bloody red aura licking off of his arm.
Rugal began to make little noises of displeasure, though they were drowned out by the slushing,
squelching noises of his life essence being drained. Finally, enough had gathered around Heidern, and it
collapsed into him, making a wet crunch noise.
Rugal halfway collapsed, feeling drained more than anything else. Heidern, on the other hand, looked
significantly better than he had a moment ago. That sneaky bastard.
"I gave you a chance, Heidern," Rugal said, rearing back, "But you turned me down. In fact, you attacked
me," Wisps of blue energy began to flicker around him, "So, I guess you'll have to pay the price..."
"Maria... Clara..." Heidern said, running between them and Rugal.
"No, not them. They have done me no wrong... It is you who must die!"
Heidern's eyes widened as he realized he was about to die.

Ralf and Clark stood in the doorway, unable to move for a moment. There was the commander, his family
and Rugal. Rugal had his arms out, and was about to launch something wholly unpleasant at Heidern. And Clara
and Maria were running at Rugal.
"KAISER WAVE!" Rugal growled, launching a blast of blue death.
"SHIT!" Ralf shouted, bolting into action.
As he and Clark ran into the room, they raised their AK-47's, firing at Rugal.
But it was too late.
Rugal simply laughed, and raised a white barrier before him, stopping the bullets dead.
At the same time, the wave hit, resulting in a huge flash of light.
When Ralf could see again, he wished he hadn't.

Heidern stood over his wife and daughter. They were dead. As simple and swiftly as that. They had
intercepted the killing blow meant for him. But now...
Now he would welcome that blow.
"Commander!" He heard a voice shout, "Let's go!"
He looked at the source, and saw Clark, grabbing him by the shoulder. Heidern would've said something
about staying and dying, or fought back, but he had no strength left. He looked at Ralf and saw him facing off
against Rugal, neither moving.
"You may leave," Rugal said, crossing his arms, "He has paid his price."
Ralf and Clark exchanged a nod before forcibly dragging Heidern out of the Trophy Room.

Rugal's rough laugh followed them as they ran through the metal corridor.


Part Two

February 27th, 1986, The BlackNoah

Rugal Bernstein sat at his table, enjoying the quiet comforts of a meal
alone. Of course, he was not completely alone. Teufelslieb, his pet panther,
sat obediently at his side, eating meat fit for some lesser kings.
Without the interference of the Ikari forces in the past year or so, life had been good. His interests
has flourished, and his Syndiacte grew every day. Now, he was the head of the single largest smuggling and
goods running connection on the face of the planet. It was a good feeling.
Suddenly, Rugal's awaerness snapped to attention as he felt something change. Something had been broken,
set free. A dark force swept over him, like a cutting wind, and he could feel another wave coming. The next one
burned his core, a wash of hateful flame. Next came a forceful blast, almost giving him a shock.
And so they proceeded, one after another. Earth. Water. Light. Dark. Metal. And finally, the last wave
of power shook him. A crushing torrent of pure nothingness ripped into his spiritual senses, and he felt a
sadness and a hatred that even he was not strong enough to resist. As he stood up from his meal, a lone tear
rolled down his face.
This last wave did mot rush away as the others had. Instead, it began to slowly settle around him, as
though it were aimless, waiting. This sweet pain was filling the owrld, and his reality. And it could be his.

Using every ounce of his inner resources, he began to put his chi training to work. It was the same
basic idea as creating a kaiser wave, but instead of calling upon his internal resources, he was pulling
a force from around him, calling it to himself.
Of course, this power did not accept him as its owner, so he had to work even harder, imposing his
will onto that which had none. Slowly, it began to pull toward him. Through closed eyes, he could see the
purple hued blackness gathering, pooling into his body. It felt like nothing he had even encountered yet,
a sensation closest to death and ecstasy. And as more and more of it filled his soul, he began to know
that he was a god.
Eventually, he could draw no more. While he may be becoming a god, he was still yet mortal, and a
motal man can do but so much. His body full, and spirit crying, he walked to the deck of the BlackNoah,
anxious to test what he could do. Of course, he would have to undergo much training to mesh this force
with his own essence, but it was very possible, and some results should be immediately visible.

When he reached the deck, something was immediately visible, but it was not from Rugal.

"Hello, Mr. Bernstein," A man in a blue trenchcoat said, "I trust life finds you well?"
Rugal raised an eyebrow. "Who would you be?"
"My name is Goenitz, and I have come for the power you have stolen."
Rugal began walking toward the silver-haired man, laughing softly. "I see... and what power might
that be?"
"Why," Goenitz began, closing the distance between them on the floating tarmac with a gust of wind,
"The Orochi power, of course. And it does not belong to a human such as yourself."
"Orochi?" Rugal asked, not at all shocked by Goenitz's display of teleportation, "Never heard of it,
but I like it."
Goenitz's eyes narrowed. "Mr. Bernstein, I tell you this now. If you do not expel the power from
yourself immediately, I will take it out by force," Goenitz said deliberately, raising an arm to begin
the stirrings of a tornado in the skies above them, "Do you understand?"
"No."
With that, Rugal dashed forward, attempting to grab Goenitz by the shirt, much as he had with Heidern.

The only problem was, Goenitz wasn't there anymore. Stopping dead, Rugal turned around to see the
long-haired man behind him, smiling. A hand flashed forward, and there was a flash of pain.
Rugal fell to the ground, clutching his empty right eye socket.
"Do you see?" Goenitz asked, letting eye and blood fall to the deck, "I could kill you easily. And
so will the power, should you use it. Give it back, and you come as close to breaking even as you can, now."
Rugal stood shakily, blood pouring from his face. "No! This power will make me a god! I will NOT let
you have it!"
Goenitz stood quietly, while the blond man before him trembled with rage. It was the footsteps of
approaching guards which prompted him to decision.
"Very well," Goenitz said, stepping backwards."
"What?"
Goenitz smiled. "You may keep the power, for now. But beware, should you ever unleash it, you will
surely perish, for while you may hold the soul of a god, you have the body of a man."
As his guards came to his aid, Goenitz disappeared in a flash of wind, not to be seen by Rugal again.

-----------

There you go! However, Chapter One still has some... tweaking left to be done, especailly part One. When you see it, you'll understand.

-Forrest "It's waffy so watch out" Walker

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Goenitz2.0: Stronger, faster, and 1.5 times more alive than ever before.

Good work Goenitz!
^^