A Noble's Land. [Seraphim vs Recycled Human]

[Contra Fates]

Gray skies and empty stomachs were on the menu today for the residents of this bleak and dystopian land. The name this country was given was 'Tengoku,' which translated to 'heaven.' God must be one irony-loving sadist if it were the truth. Tengoku was controlled not by God, but by a savage and corrupt government, the kind that was only heard about through rumors and fictional stories. No one could really fathom the idea of a government like this one really existing. The inhabitants of this region were for the most part soulless, brain washed into drifting through their colorless, systematic, unimportant lives. They were just pawns, little toy soldiers on some grand board game. They had no purpose, no real reason for living...yet the suicide rate was expectantly low for such a dastardly existence. One would think that in an emotionless, machine-like world, that people would be leaping to their deaths, a smile spread from cheek to cheek as they descended to their demise.

Yet, there was one such person who was far different from these people. In fact, he was the luckiest man alive. Why is that? The government, as cruel as it may be, does have certain rules that it abides by. Just like the American soldiers during World War II who refused to bomb Kyoto, this government also has some misguided sentiment for beautiful landmarks and history. And one such residence is the little slice of paradise hidden within the D District of Tengoku: The Tokugawa Manor. The Tokugawa name belongs to the royal shogunate family of so long ago. Through the years, that royal bloodline has become a bit tainted, through genetic design and European marriages. This led to quite a few family feuds as time went on, for the traditionalists felt that the Samurai blood was so diluted that those who bore the Tokugawa name might as well be commoners.

Even so, a name was a name, and this surname happened to belong to a royal bloodline, which carried with it special privileges. Nobles were virtually untouched by the government, save for very high taxes that they must pay in return for their well being. You see, the government has a nasty habit of carrying out covert executions to those who don't pay their taxes on time. One month's delay in tax payment meant death for one member of the household. Let's just say that the Agents responsible for the Tokugawa executions were a bit too trigger happy, and brought that total up to three members of the household. This brings us to the man of the hour, the golden boy of Tengoku; Tokugawa Yukio.

Yukio was a man of vibrancy and ingenuity, a golden-haired youth who stood out amongst his fellow neighbors as much as his property did. He was a handsome man, with brilliant azure eyes, and a face that in much more aesthetically-pleasing days would have graced the covers of any fashion magazine. He was a pretty boy, that much was certain. He spent his days trying to rekindle the flames of life and liberty, be it secretly funding resistance factions or feeding any hungry persons he might meet in his daily travels. Yukio never let his surroundings, nor the poverty around him put a kink in his stride. He was a confident youth, perhaps far too confident. Despite his feminine looks and impeccable attire, Yukio was a man of stature, and in his own words he was 'built like a Greek God.' He spent most of his days exercising, training his body to be perfectly crafted, yet agile. This man built himself for strength and speed, among many other things. Raised primarily by his servants, Yukio had many advantages that some could only dream of. Yukio just felt bad for the sorry soul who would dare to trespass on his land, for that seemed to be one the ignition switches within him.

The Tokugawa Manor was truly a piece of paradise that was brought to reality. The home itself was a beautiful work of architecture, fitting that of the traditional Japanese style, yet accented with gold. The house itself was framed with many gardens, and beautiful, clean-water fountains. The lands where this residence belonged was housed within thick, tall metal walls. Sometimes Yukio considered it his own personal prison cell. If only other people had to suffer in such an enormous and wondrous prison cell.

[Recycled Human]

The Church paid well, and though they didn't care for casualties, they didn't punish for killing. Murder was always on the brain, it was probably a chemical imbalance, a piece of undigested twinky or maybe just a compulsion to rattle cages. In the years since the unfortunate events, now deemed 'Failure in Mirror City', the Church of Epiphany had taken to systematically shutting down any possible insurgence as they made a bold vie for control over the masses. Today's menu, a new delicacy, 'Fried Tokugawa'. And if Beltran DeLopez had anything to do with it, this meal would come with a side of murder.

It was probably a great surprise to his deceased parents, as they floated around in the abyssal afterlife, that their son had chosen to serve the very cult that cost them their lives. They had chosen to back the wrong horse, it was as simple as that. When Alejandro entered private school and received note-worthy marks in the second grade, first grader and younger brother Beltran torched the prized 'proud parent of an honor student' sticker with a borrowed zippo and some siphoned gasoline. The car wearing the sticker may have exploded in a fiery eruption soon after, but it was a small price to pay for treating Ally to ice cream and rubbing it in Beltran's face later on.

He'd take it to the grave that it was his own word that cost them their lives.

Back then, the Church didn't know any better. They massacred unruly non-believers and sentenced entire families to exile in their hellish prison known as 'Mirror City'. 'Mirror' for the skyscrapers, 'Mirror' for reflection, and a big bucket of 'Absolution' for new inductees and party affiliates. Yes, welcome to Mirror City, where the sinful go to get absolved of their crimes! Fear not the wrath of the lord, fear thy neighbor. Absolved adults would go on kill/rape/drug binges while unaffected kids would stand in the crossfire. Beltran called it 'Paradise'.

The dismantling of the Tokugawa national treasure had been wired in to employ his explosive talents to his delight. Which was probably thanks to the standard-issue psychiatric evaluation and its portraying Senior DeLopez as sadistic, certifiable and envious to everyone. He didn't care what his predilection dictated, it certainly wasn't winning him any awards, but one thing was for certain : Beltran was definitely burning bridges.

Standing about forty meters from his target arson victim, Beltran had assumed position at a respectably distant hedge work and set about roasting the foliage with the application of gasoline accelerant and matches. He'd get this party started, one way or another.

[Contra Fates]

Once upon a time, there lived a young boy, who smelt of fresh thyme, and made weaponry his toy. When you have no family, a bottomless pocket of money, and raging pre-teen hormones, a young man must amuse himself. For Yukio, his 'fun' consisted of all sorts of different chemicals, weapons, and concoctions that young children should not be playing with. But, who in their right mind would say no to a little brat prince? Even at a young age, Yukio had the will of a volcano, hellbent on doing whatever he damn well pleased. Of course, in lava's case, it was bent on burying nearing lands and encasing it in a scorching hot tomb. Yukio's desires were of a more innocent nature, but if anyone dared to not let him get his way, he was known to turn ugly. A pristine rose may be ever alluring and inviting, but when blood drips from your fingertips upon touching the thorns around it, you begin to understand just what Tokugawa Yukio might mean. For the fiery soul that was currently making preparations to make a barbecue at the Tokugawa Manor, he'd come to find that Yukio was a rose with considerable fire power.

On this most peaceful and calm day, Yukio was spending his time dressing himself in his daily attire. What could be seen by a prying eye would be a golden man, dipped in a luxurious alabaster trench coat, with matching slacks. The shirt beneath his coat was of a silken black fabric, that hugged his lady-killing torso quite nicely, as well as framed his neck. Yukio dressed to impress, that was for sure. But who was he impressing? Certainly not the poor folk he called neighbors. No, Yukio dressed to impress only himself, and the reflections he passed. In fact, even now, Yukio looked himself over in a guilded mirror's image, admiring the perfect curves of his visage, and the way his hair spilled over his eye just slightly, as if to caress it in gold. If only Yukio could put just a fraction of the affection he had for himself, toward another.

Yukio would stare into his mirror with an approving grin, placing his hands on his hips and leaning back in a stretching motion. He would take a deep inhalation of breath, and would quickly exhale with a slight cough. There was a scent that was foreign, a foul smell that tickled at his nostrils with a vengeance. What horrific odor could he be smelling? Quickly, he would rush to a nearing window, observing the outdoors with a heightened sense, one that was brought on by fear. That stench, that God-awful smell, it was fire-breeding gas! Who in God's name would have the gall to light a fire on his property?! They'd pay for it, he'd make sure of it. Dashing out of his room like a hurricane to shore, Yukio would practically fly down the stairs of his mansion. As fast as his feet could carry him, Yukio was running out of the door on the opposite side of the home from where his sweet little pyro-freak of a trespasser was. He was about to put a damper in his plans of vandalism. As he swung around the corner of his house, he would flip open a metal box, which inside contained the controls for his home's irrigation and sprinkler system. Turning the dial on it, he would soon hear the gurgling of bubbling water, and would then look up to see his sprinkler system doing its job of saturating the gardens around his home. That'll teach that little arsonist not to torch his family gardens!

Oh, but, 'Professor Yukio' wasn't done with teaching this man a lesson. Oh, no. Grabbing an oversized poncho that was hanging on a hook near the back door of his home, Yukio would throw it over himself, and quietly, yet quickly, make his way toward the location of the trespasser. Positioned behind a column of thick foliage, Yukio would remove one of his most prized possessions. A polished, custom-made, Mossberg 590 shotgun, a real beauty of an antique. Aiming it at the new trespasser, Yukio would then turn it to the side, just slightly, and fire a warning shot. "Now give me one damned fine reason why I shouldn't blow your head into a red mist?!"

[Recycled Human]

Automated sprinkler heads jutted from reclusive, well hidden reservoirs in a wide area of the garden. Their black corrosion resistant gloss shimmering as the spigots activated, spraying gallons of water over the miniature bonfire. It may have caught the arsonist by surprise but was in no way an unexpected occurrence. When the head nearest him popped up, the young Beltran went 'whack-a-mole' with a swift kick. A jet of violet-blue water spilled in an arial stream. Either he had the worst luck in petty crime or someone had tipped his hand. And cheating was just no fun!

Now he'd have to march into the house, reset the sprinkler system and plant some explosives to get things back on schedule. Quashing rebels was such an exotic lifestyle, and Beltran DeLopez was definitely one with a taste for the exotic.

Draped in an expensive silk shirt with a primary deep blue color and several pastel palm trees dotting the loose fitted button up. He left the tails untucked in the front while the back remained cinched under his designer black slacks and leather belt. His yellowed eyes were obscured by large sunglasses, and framed by his well trimmed eyebrows and tape. Dark wavy hair fell just above his ears and was smoothed to the side amidst his forehead. Pristine tanned tanned skin and unmarred complexion mimicked his sense of personal style. Ankle length, pointed gator-skin boots hoisted his stature up from its usual 5'6 to a respectable 5'7 and a half.

There wasn't a better dressed man this put together in all of Tokyo, by his standards. The only glaring obscurity in this pragmatic awesomeness was the massive chainsaw strapped to his back.

As the young fire starter took his first stride through the drenched dominion towards the Tokugawa manor a loud pop cracked from a spot some twenty feet ahead of him followed by a shout from the owner of a well-aimed shotgun. It was an intentional miss, he realized quickly seeking shelter as he heard the familiar sound of another round getting loaded into the chamber.

"Now give me one damned fine reason why I shouldn't blow your head into a red mist?!"

I can think of a few, Beltran mused running slender fingers through his hair. And the first one goes like this!

Focusing on the opponents weapon; long barrel, pump action, heavy rounds, probably got good resistance on that slide. An un-worked gun would require the user to lower it first to load the next round into the chamber... maybe. But the opponent had already pumped the next shell into the chamber, the gun was probably pointed right at Beltran's bush. He'd have to time things just right!

He'd yet to get a good look at the owner of that deadly weapon and thick accent, but he knew it was only a matter of time before he was face to face with both. The scent of the spring water filled his nostrils as he mentally paced, the battle field was probably mud by now. Not something he'd want to fight in.

'How bout I direct you to the point of my visit?' He shouted over his shoulder, freeing a switchblade from his boot. He popped up abruptly preparing to dive through the mud to get to safety or launch his knife in defense.

[Contra Fates]

It seemed like Beltran was nothing more than a street rat impostor of Yukio, striving to be some stylish, important piece of society's vermin. Imagine the look of dismay on the young pyro's face when he comes face to face with the young Master of the Tokugawa Manor. Yukio is everything that Beltran aspires to be: pulchritudinous, fashionable, and rich beyond compare. Yukio had much more at his disposal, while Beltran was fueled by some primal animosity, a ferociousness that knows no bounds. Yet, it was time to consider the facts of this confrontation. Yukio has lived on this plot of land for all twenty-one years of his life, so he has an edge over Beltran when it came to knowing his surroundings. Beltran, on the other hand, was a fiendish individual, perhaps the type of person to beat a dead horse, just to spite the creature further. He would undoubtedly pull the cruelest and cheapest tricks in the book, and fight as unfairly as humanly possible. Yukio, like his predecessors, had some unforeseen stake in 'honor,' and would likely lay low when it came to underhanded and unfair tactics. Of course, he was no fool. If you live, you win, if you die, you lose. What's the point of fighting fair against an opponent with no desire to do so? When you're at the gates of heaven after having your head sliced clean from your body, there you can explain to your ethereal God just how worth it dying over honor was. Yukio wasn't the type to accept such a pointless fate.

If there was one thing that Yukio excelled in, it was denying others. Be it the attractive young girl who longed to run her hands through those golden tresses, or the fiend who wanted to mug the young Noble, Yukio would have none of it. Yukio heard the intruder respond to him, offering up some useless information like it meant to be barter. The golden youth might have been a relatively naive soul, but even he knew when to shoot something down.

"I don't give a damn why you're here, nor who sent you, nor what sewer your climbed out of. If someone sent you to their bidding, than I have no need to pursue any cease and desist negotiations." Yukio spoke, loud enough for the arsonist to hear him, yet his tongue did not render his hands immobile. In fact, as he spoke, he was loading in a clip filled with buckshot bullets. It may not kill his opponent, but it sure as hell would put a damper in his day. Jumping back and away from the bush, as he was sure that the assassin was approaching him. As a result of this, he'd aim the gun in his direction, and fire at the man's torso. Afterward, he would run backwards and reload, a bit more visible now than he was before. Despite the rubber poncho he wore over his fancier attire, the other man would be able to see the bulk of his outfit, and it was sure to strike a nerve in the envy department. This gave Yukio a chance to get a better look at him as well, and he'd let out a chuckle in response to the sight.

"Haha, quite a good choice in footwear, comrade." Yukio was referring to the fashionable dress shoes that the fire starter was wearing, which would limit his footing quite a great deal, due to the ground being reduced to mud. Tokugawa, on the other hand, was wearing black combat boots, which gave him yet another advantage over the other. Not even curious enough to know what the trespasser's name was, Yukio would aim at him once more with a trained eye, prop the butt of his shotgun against his shoulder to steady the bullet's course, and pull the trigger, firing a round of buckshot at the other. Quickly he would reload, step back, and fire another shot, this time aiming for the man's legs. He didn't even wait to see the result of those shots, as he glanced over his shoulder briefly, and scurried further behind him, to keep the distance between the two as broad as possible. Despite Yukio using a weapon that was meant for close-quarter combat, he preferred a long range style of fighting. Being that his opponent was some greasy street-dwelling scoundrel, Yukio could only assume that his fighting style was much more up close and personal. He bet he was the type of villain to enjoy slicing up his victim slowly, in order to draw out the screams and groans of dismay and agony. Yukio wasn't about to let that psychopath get anywhere near him, especially not after Yukio caught a glance at the chainsaw strapped to his back. This maniac sure was something else!

[Recycled Human]

The first volley tore through the bush Beltran sought for cover, Tokugawa's guesswork impressively held an element of surprise and measured calculation. A bold move. But when Beltran's low running stance and choppy movements combined with the density of the hedge his adversaries ability to pinpoint the target remained severely hindered. Having instinctively readied a regular round into the chamber, this first shot was only deadly if it were properly aimed. Before the shotgun toting rich boy could coerce another round into the weapon, Beltran had reached momentary protection in a crouched position beside a fresh, gaping hole in the foliage. A peep hole, courtesy of Mr. Tokugawa himself. The man before him was dressed like a Siegfried and Roy Circus tent, all white and gold and only missing the tiger.

He waited.

Cli-Click! Issued the thrilling melody of the weapon being lowered. Even if only momentarily!

It was a simple gift, being a street rat led to being a guinea pig, led to attaining new levels of control. To think, the activation rested in a simple pop between thumb and forefinger. A snap. Beltran let his thoughts drift to the gun a second time, taking in the exquisite details, resting momentarily on the chamber, locating the fresh shell and then, with a snap of his fingers the savage buck shot shell expelled its contents prematurely leaving deep divits in the murky earth. The gold and white pretty boy spat a provocation to spur Beltran into a rage.

It didn't work.

'Keep talking, I like the way your lips move,' Beltran replied, pushing the button on his switchblade to summon the sharp edge.

Stepping from behind the protection of his bush he grinned in amusement as the white warrior pulled the trigger, expelling only debris. Beltran continued the charge, this is where you start to worry. Why didn't my treasured gun fell the boy? He's almost upon me, what shall I do? Feh, pathetic really.

His musings were cut short as the other casually pumped another round into the chamber and fired, uncaring as to whether he was successful or not. The shot fired splashed in the mud almost harmlessly. Several pieces of buck scraping against the young antagonists skin, bringing a thin wall of blood to cover his designer shoes. You bitch! His thoughts exclaimed as he launched the switchblade with expert precision.

'That does it pretty boy, your paying for my dry cleaning bill, and I mean in body mass. Get me?!'

The switch blade popped the top off of a nearby sprinkler head spraying a fountain of its contents skyward. Intending to douse the rich rogue from underneath and hopefully spook the blonde bimbo or render his weapon useless. He was now a mere few feet away from the enemy and could see the look of disinterest. Finally, Yukio had managed to piss Beltran off.

[Contra Fates]

Yukio didn't even bother to respond to the boy's complimentary words, and instead he kept his eyes trained on the other, unmoving. The first shot of buck shot was a dud, which puzzled Yukio, if only briefly. Perhaps it was just a defective bullet, nothing more. Yukio couldn't possibly have imagined that this badly dressed teenager could have possessed some superhuman power that allowed him to have control over electrical properties at will. The third shot he fired seemed to have yielded more effect. The angered howl of the barely scratched street rat echoed throughout their surroundings, yet Yukio's expression was bordering on stoic; disinterested indeed.

When someone trespasses on your land and tries to burn your home down to the ground, and has every intention of killing you...one needs to keep their emotions in check, and well guarded. Although, it would seem like his tanned friend was getting a bit aggravated for one reason or another. Then again, contracted killer or not, no one would enjoy being shot at, repeatedly. What would happen next took Yukio a little off guard. The man with a name unknown to Yukio tossed a switchblade at the sprinkler head right in front of Yukio, striking it with enough force to cause the water to shoot towards the heavens like a geyser. Unfortunately for Yukio, it shot up at his right pant leg, entirely saturating it. In an instinctual reaction, Yukio jumped back, able to escape from getting too dowsed in the pouring water. Sadly, his prized shotgun was not as fortunate, and he could feel the water dripping from the barrel onto his gloves. Even so, this was no time to panic, especially if Yukio was going to avoid being cleaved in two by psycho-boy's chainsaw.

Slipping his left hand inside of his trench coat, he would retrieve a grenade from inside the coat. What in God's green earth...? You see, Tokugawa Yukio was a weapon's expert, and beneath that grand white coat, was his own personal weapon's shop. The coat contained everything from grenades, glass vials filled with various chemicals, a sword, daggers, shurikens, handguns, and even more types of weapons. Yukio wore all of those weapons on him because, in truth, he was a silently paranoid individual. When you live in such a trying time such as this, one must take every possible precaution. For Yukio, being a walking, talking weapon's dealer was his way to insure his safety. Should someone try to mug him in the street, he had dozens of weapons at his disposal. Fortunately for him, the water from that previous sprinkler geyser only got one of his shotguns, and only soaked the bottom of his coat. He had thrown on that poncho to insure the preservation of the other weapons he carried. You see, wet gun powder isn't very effective.

With the grenade in hand, Yukio would pull the pin with his teeth, and throw it right at the charging man. Afterward, he would spit out the pin, and run back, as far as he possibly could. This kid wanted to get as close to him as he could, and should the little devil somehow get past that grenade, he'd have to keep him at a safe distance. Fortunately for Yukio, the assassin had a very loud weapon, so Yukio would still have some time to get away in the event that he got too close for comfort. It was time for Yukio to seek the sanctuary of the family's maze garden. Wasting no time at all, Yukio would run through the maze, finding a corner, and resting his back against the thick vegetation that the bushes had to offer him. He'd waited there, for only a few seconds. Just long enough for him to peer through a hazy spot in the bush and see what happened to Mr. Smoke and Mirrors.

[Recycled Human]

Oh boy was this fun! Imagining the wonderful ways of depraving the rich boy of every stitch of luxury excited him, like pulling the wings off a fly. Maybe when Beltran finished dismantling the last of the Tokugawa bloodline, he'd take the time to personally take his pick of the finest clothes available. Maybe even give the rest to the underfed and undercared for, after all this guy seemed really stuck up. Giving all mr. Tokugawa's stuff to the poor would probably give cause to roll over in his, soon to be, shallow grave.

His left fist wrapped around the hand rail at the base of his chainsaw. It was time to bring out his big toy! What better way for a pretty boy to go than to get carved up? A look of surprise washed across the young home-owner's face briefly, as the steady stream of water sprayed up his pants then coated his beloved shotgun.

The cocky s.o.b. didn't seem phased! Casually, Yukio had reached into a coat pocket and pulled out a hand grenade. within seconds the grenade was live and aiming to blast the sunglasses right off Beltran's face. Not to mention singe a few nose hairs.

Luckily, grenades had a heavy casing meant to provide grenadiers with time to duck and cover. Without hesitation, Beltran broke the clasp strapping his weapon on his back, hoisting it hand over hand before smashing the dangerous detonator out of harms way like a kid in a tee-ball game. Here's the pitch and...its another line drive...go figure.

The bomb exploded a short distance away, leaving a small crater that kicked up grass patches and clumps of mud. Cluttered heaps of mossy earth flung through the air, clinging to Beltran's expensive shit like a rice on a recently married woman. And with the severe loss of water pressure the sprinklers were finally dying down. Whew, that was a close one, Senior DeLopez mused darkly regaining his breath, his eyes followed Yukio's decent into the depths of the manor labyrinth before being struck by something odd. Son of a .... he's got an arsenal under that trench coat!

'Yeah, you better run!' he exclaimed.

He was now treading on unknown territory. The labyrinth would normally prove to be a problem, his element of surprise would be ruined and he could get trapped if he got lost. Instead, Beltran limped slightly back towards the canister of gasoline he had left beside the bushes he was originally trying to burn. If he couldn't find Yukio, he'd bring Yukio out.

Quickly, the young arsonist set about dousing the entrance and front few bushes in a heavy coating of the accelerant. He then charged in, weapon held high overhead. He made a mental picture of the paths he took to try and reach Yukio. He'd find the rich boy one way or another!

[Contra Fates]

Perhaps running into a maze wasn't the wisest of decisions. Quickly regretting his actions, Yukio grimaced a bit, frustrated with himself for running away from Mr. Chainsaw Killer like a mouse from a cat. Yukio prided himself on being 'the best,' and 'as perfect as humanly possible.' Well, scurrying from someone like they were the Devil incarnate himself wasn't something a 'perfect' person would do. No, a flawless individual would have just stood there and waited for the son of a bitch to attack them. So far Yukio had attacked the man a grand total of five times, and he's just about dodged every single one of those initiations. Perhaps it was time for Yukio to exercise a bit of his own agility. After all, aside from weaponry, his expertise lay in speed. Perhaps Yukio would have had no problem dodging that man's attacks, just as the other had done with his much more volatile attacks. A chain saw may be one very intimidating weapon, but being that it was as bulky as it was, it left something to be desired when it came to a worthy offensive weapon.

Breathing at only a slightly quickened rate, Yukio's eyes would quirk at the scent of something fresh in his mind. Gasoline, yet again. So the sneaky little bastard was planning on burning him out of the maze! Yukio mentally kicked himself for making such a bad judgment call, and would reach into his coat to retrieve two items. One item was a gas mask, which he would quickly strap onto his head. It was such a strange contraption, and Yukio hated having to wear it, for it made his breathing so shallow, and his peripheral vision was as good as gone. But, either way, it would be much better than sobbing on the floor like a newborn baby. The second item that Yukio removed from his arsenal was a metallic canister, a bit more sinister looking than the hand grenade that the other was so quick to bat into the outfield. The accelerant that the man poured on the bushes was likely right near the area where Yukio first entered the garden's maze. Yet, as he held his breath to invest in a better sense of hearing, he could hear rapid footfalls. So the little street rat was running towards him. This would work out just fine for Yukio. But, why bother pouring gasoline on the bushes if he was just going to follow him in anyway?

Yukio shrugged it off while he prepared his little surprise for the approaching man. Pulling the gas mask up, just enough to uncover his mouth as to not obscure his voice, Yukio would shout to his opponent. "Come and get me, you badly dressed queer!"Yukio's lips would be pulled into a sneer, and he'd put the mask back over him. The pin of the canister was pulled, and wispy puffs of white smoke would be elicited from the metal object. Yukio stood still, listening for the other to come closer, and closer to his location. In the meantime, Yukio would be 'contaminating' his surrounding area with the gas within the can. The smoke was really a lachrymatory agent, better known to most as tear gas. So long as Yukio kept that canister near him, any area where he walked would become polluted with that dreadful, tear-jerking gas. Yukio may have felt that he was above running away from someone with his tail tucked between his legs, but he was not against giving himself an unfair advantage over his opponent. After all, Yukio felt that he was fully justified, for this kid invaded his property and tried to burn it down to a cinder. Yukio figured that before he'd kill him, he'd get some information out of him first. Yukio would wave the canister in front of him, turning around a few times to spread the gas around. The longer it took Beltran to find him, the wider the range filled with tear gas. Those 'stylish' sunglasses of his were about to prove very ineffective against the approaching clouds of xylyl bromide.

[Recycled Human]

Queer?! The word burned behind his brown eyes, reflecting off the inside of the designer sunglasses in hot pink and neon green. He'd make that blonde bitch pay! But before he could run home to write in his secret diary about not swinging that way, he decided to get even. Setting insecurities aside, he couldn't help but notice the voice had seemed so near. Left hand to throttle sent the chainsaw whirring to life. The bladed chain spun in its track, strong enough to cut through marble but such power was unnecessary when dealing with mere shrubbery.

Beltran pushed the weapon through a spot in the hedges, pulling down at an angle and ripping through the thick bushes with ease. A second slice at a reverse angle mowed a large triangular block out of the way, just large enough for the chainsaw toting wonderboy to squeeze through. A copy cat block in the opposite side cut a path to where he heard the voice.

'Come on you pansy!' he snarled, 'quit running!'

Suddenly the air around him appeared foggy, his eyes welled up, his throat and mouth felt like they were on fire. Was the bastard using tear gas?!

Choking and sputtering, Beltran took a knee. This was getting no where fast! He flicked his wrist out, taking a quick swipe at the surrounding area, in case Mr. Tokugawa got frisky. The blade came back clean. Falling to his butt, and wobbling his way backwards through the hedges proved more difficult. Though he'd only taken a few steps in, his cut had been a little snug the second time. Finally, fed up he thrust the chainsaw into the hedge carving an erratic pattern in the foliage. Twigs and leaves lined his hair, making him look part plant.

The other side of the wall was safe, the toxic gas started to dissipate with still no sign of the traveling armory. He was beginning to feel like burning the house down first would have been safer.

[Contra Fates]

"Hahaha! Are you enjoying the sensation? I imagine that it must be so wonderful that it's....bringing tears to your eyes?!" His voice sounded a bit muffled behind the gas mask, but the excitement in the Noble's voice could not be denied. Yukio was having an absolute field day with just how perfectly that little bastard fell into his trap. Hopefully that tear gas would be so effective that it tore the man's corneas to shreds, rendering him a useless blind mutt. It would serve him right for even trying to harm Yukio. Adding insult to injury, Yukio would throw the canister at the man's head, for he was perfectly capable of seeing him, as it was not his eyes that were damaged. If the hit was successful, it'd force the can to expel an extra burst of the terrible gas right near his face. Stepping back further, Yukio would glance at his wristwatch, an action that was taken to see just how much longer he'd have with his newfound 'friend.' The effects of tear gas were relatively short-lived, typically lasting for less than an hour. But, in the big scheme of things, that was more than enough time for Yukio.

"So, let me guess. Some bigwig sent you here because of rumors that I was funding resistance factions? It surely wasn't because I was late on a tax payment, because you're a pathetic small fry in comparison to the real assassins they sent here to kill the rest of my family. I bet you're just some punk with a grudge, or you were sent by some misinformed organization that gives constant acts of fellatio to the government. So, before I put you out of your misery, what's your name?" Yukio's crystalline gaze gleamed, almost triumphantly over the other man's agonized form. Yukio would slip a hand into his coat once more, retrieving a semi-automatic handgun, he would unlock the safety, and aim it in the boy's direction before him. With his other arm, he would yank it back a bit, as he would slip his arm out of the arm socket of his trench coat. Swapping gun hands, he would do the same with the other, before he was able to hold the ridiculously heavy coat in one hand. The coat jingled and clanked a bit as he held it, signifying that it was still loaded with quite a few weapons. It was no matter, even if the other were to snatch up a few of his firearms, the tear gas would make it very difficult for him to aim it successfully, let alone even find the safety for the gun.

The chainsaw was still roaring, quite loudly, the buzzing sound so loud and obnoxious that it began to irk Yukio more than the boy himself did. The coat that Yukio wore was not only fashionable, but it was lined with Kevlar, and a layer of rubber to insure that liquids were not able to soak through the coat too easily. In an attempt to mangle the boy's chainsaw, he would throw his prized coat right on top of it. He could always purchase a new coat, and new weapons. But, what he wouldn't be able to replace was his own flesh and blood.

[Recycled Human]

It was disgraceful to be bested by this pompous prick. Disgraceful and a bit demeaning, dodging the canister was pointless, Beltran accepted his fate. This man would kill him, this was to be his grave. He couldn't help it but...he was grinning from ear to ear.

The ringing in his ear coupled with the white hot blindness, offered little resolution. But at the very least, he didn't have to listen to the bastard's demeaning tone for a few more minutes. The mindless blather drolled on but he did manage to catch a few words : 'punk with a grudge'.

The chainsaw suddenly shut off, he could tell not by the sudden lack of sound, but the disappearance of vibration in his left hand. He could get a new one. If only he could make it through this...a soft clapping sensation filled his thoughts. We're they cheering? Clap. Clap. Clap.

'...fore I put you out of your misery, what's your name?' Clap. Clap. Clap.

'Bel...'

He started, his fingers intertwining between blades of grass. The soft wet earth did little to comfort his bruised ego, he sighed finally ready to spill. Might as well get it over with. At least the first question isn't a tough one... Clap. Clap. Clap.

'B-...' Clap.

Suddenly, he stood up. He knew what this sound was. He could hear the zip-line descending, dropping the rope ladder at a rapid rate. The mechanical whirring of the wench prepared to reel the rope back in once he grabbed on. Blurry vision, ebbed away revealing the rope right in front of him. He smirked, I lost!

'The name's Beltran DeLopez, and I don't have a grudge...just a time limit.' He sneered amiably as his fingers wrapped around the nearest rung on the ladder. He knew high above, the helicopter had been poised and waiting, six guards perched with high powered sniper rifles, all with a bead on pretty in white boy standing before him. He'd get away.

'So sorry, Mr. Tokugawa, I had a lovely time! Ta~'

As the helicopter ascended slightly, he couldn't help but reflect on the humor of the situation. And then he remembered. Snap!

With a flick of his fingers he felt the roaring sensation of a small explosion beneath him. The gas can sitting beside the entrance to the labyrinth had suddenly erupted spewing fire all over the bushes. The trail traced back to the previous bushes where three other cans remained, complete with three new explosions.

'May not have won the battle, but at least I get to the gurney in style!'

[Contra Fates]

There were a few feelings in the world that weren't worth experiencing, and the one that now crept up Yukio's nerves was one fine example. By all rights, by all means, Tokugawa Yukio should have stood tall and proud before that tanned prick, with a shotgun aimed for his head as a precursor to a quick, bloody death. Instead, the young Noble was treated to a far less enjoyable scene. A helicopter had descended from a gray and unfriendly sky, slinging a rope to the defeated punk. Yukio raised his shotgun, in a hopeless instinctual reaction, perhaps his mind dreamed of shooting that helicopter out of the sky. With anger shining in his azure eyes, the blonde man would see a flash of red in his eyes, as the six guards within the helicopter aimed their scope-armed sniper rifles at him, the red lasers dancing around his form.

Powerless. He was utterly powerless, and it invoked a feeling of such quiet anguish within him that his hands balled into fists, and began to shake. His eyes resembled daggers of ice as they glared at the ascending Beltran DeLopez. Yukio's line of sight shifted to the side, slightly, revealing an emblem that elicited more shock than the helicopter's sudden appearance had. It was the emblem of the Church! What in God's holy name was the Church doing, recueing some bastard assassin?! Yukio's jaw was hanging open, his eyes saucer-like as he stared, stupified.

Before he had any time to recover from his surprise, Beltran's fingers would rub together quickly, the friction between them creating a snap. The snapping of fingers caused an explosion near Yukio, which made him jump to the ground, arms held over his head in a defensive manner as the dirt and debris flew around him. Several more fiery explosions ocurred right after, just as the helicopter flew back to that menacing sky. Yukio was beside himself, overcome by a mixture of strong feelings: shame, defeat, confusion, fear, and a growing rage that caused his heart to beat rapidly, allowing the veins in his body to pulse. His breathing followed suit, causing him to breath in jagged, quick breaths. His whole manor, his hidden paradise...was burning up around him. He couldn't just let that happen! Not like this!

Struggling up to his feet, Yukio would elicit a few coughs as the surrounding smoke filled his lungs, before he'd pull his turtleneck over his mouth and nose, and dash for his burning house. He still had servants left in there, and he had to see to it that they made it to the lower basement. The basement of his home was the safest part of the house, as it was metal-framed and air-tight. Granted, this meant that the amount of oxygen below was limited, but it at least would allow for him and his servants to survive long enough for the fire to burn out. "Ansel!! ...Charlotte! ...Maria! Gather the servants and bring them to the basement, hurry!" As he dashed into his now doorless home entrance, he'd see a frightened Maria, who was covered in soot. He motioned for her to follow him, and he'd make his way to the basement door. Tossing aside an expensive rug, the metallic doors that led to the basement would be revealed, and he'd pull on them quickly, shouting for Ansel and the other servants to hurry into the room. Ansel soon entered the room, but Charlotte was no where to be found. Yukio's eyes would widen as he heard the crackling of breaking foundation, and he'd quickly push Ansel out of the way of a falling beam. The fire was spreading rapidly into the home, and it was evident that there wasn't much time left. He hurriedly ushered Maria and Ansel down the steps of the basement, and slammed the door closed.

It was dark and cold within that basement, and Yukio moved over to a familiar corner, slipping down against the floor and pulling his knees up to his chest, in a child-like manner. "...Maria...Ansel...don't use up too much oxygen." The words were cold, and concise, and showed just how selfish the blonde noble was to utter such a request. Before long, there would be a horrifying sound that could be heard on the outside of the bunker; screaming. It was Charlotte, the missing servant! She was howling in such agony! Yukio snaked his arms around his knees, shoving his head down towards his lap, as his eyes and heart betrayed the selfish manner he had just previously portrayed. Tears were forming in his eyes, escaping to his cheeks, and his body was trembling.

The screams continued on for what seemed like an eternity, before finally ceasing, abruptly. Those unfriendly gray skies became something of an ally, as they wept their own tears of rain for the loss of life that ocurred, senselessly, at the Tokugawa Manor. The rain pounded down hard, aiding in dousing the violent flames that had succeeded in destroying the once beautiful residence. Everything was getting quiet now, and the young noble would finally lift his head, his eyes burning as he stared up to the blackness.

"...I swear to whatever God is out there, that I will stop at nothing. I will not die, I will not pass on, until Beltran DeLopez's head is severed clean from his shoulders!"

...To Be Continued.