I've had a fair amount of experience dealing with the friends, family, and colleagues of the people and things that I've offed, and I don't usually care for them. For one, they tend to be less than appreciative of my work. The fact that they're usually magical girls or kamen out to get me back for whacking their team doesn't help either.

Now, I'm no psychologist, and I've never been overly good at helping people deal with emotional problems. If you've been paying attention, that little shortcoming on my part should be painfully fucking obvious. However, at such times, I am often required to act as a doctor of sorts, helping these people deal with their loss and cope with their grief and anger. I usually prescribe two lead pills behind the ear and a long dirt nap.

This treatment has proven to be tremendously effective against masked, underpowered pedophiles and fuku-clad, wand-wielding lobotomy patients. Now it appeared that I might have the chance to test it on the manipulative, magical widow of a seraphim. I was overjoyed at the prospect. I also frequently put on a gorilla costume and bathe in banana pudding. And if you believe that, I have some lovely beach property in Okinawa to sell you.

The busy signal was still buzzing in my ear as I groped for an adequate way to sum up my feelings. Finally, inspiration came.

"Well, cock."

 **********************************************************

Improfanfic Presents

Magical Girl Hunters

Part 34

"Killin' in the Name of"

A Not Just Awful, God Awful Production

Written by Eric Pinnick, a.k.a. nihility

Original Concept by Aaron Shattuck

 ***************************************************

My eloquent little speech didn't seem to help Itami and Veracity much; if anything, their stares were more confused than ever. Rather than explain things, I decided to employ a time-tested, sailor-approved (the kind of sailor you find on a boat, stupid) stress relief technique.

"Mother fucking fucker damn fucking..."

I went on like that for a good thirty seconds or so, and would have kept going if Itami hadn't thrown a dart into the wall beside my head. Pointy things flying by my face have a funny way of getting my attention.

"What?!" Hey, you'd be pissed, too.

Itami answered with a slightly annoyed expression, a grunt, and a gesture towards the phone.

"Sorry. Nothing big, just some more bullshit about my lack of a fate and an offer to tell us the truth. Oh, yeah, and Akari Nazo is Ultra's fucking widow." Ah, sarcasm, the last refuge of the damned.

Itami digested this for a few moments, while Veracity did an admirable job of not jumping into her statue and hiding. After a few moments, Itami spoke up.

"Kill us?"

Good old Itami. Straight to the point, as always.

"I'm not sure. I think she just wants to use us, but who knows. The bitch might be playing head games with us, too."

Itami considered that for a moment, then shook his head.

"Not professional."

He was right. Pro's don't taunt or play with their victims before the kill, and they sure as hell don't warn you that they're out for payback. Those are rookie mistakes, the kind that get rookies killed. Mrs. Ultra was definitely not a rookie.

"Good point."

What to do, what to do. Mrs. Ultra probably didn't want to kill us, but that certainly didn't qualify her as a member of our fan club. What we needed was information. Good information, as in, the kind that doesn't come from a woman I more or less made a widow of. Hell, she did say that it was her mission to get her hubby back...hey, wait a second...

"Hey, Veracity, you with us?"

Our lovely secretary was doing a damn fine impression of a deer in headlights. I guess even spirits can be scared shitless.

"Hey, Veracity. WAKE UP!"

That did the trick. Veracity snapped out of her trance.

"Akari said she wanted to get her man back. Is that even possible?"

Veracity paused in thought for a moment, then began to look a bit less scared.

"In Ultra's case, yes. The loophole that allowed mortals to return had been closed forever, so mortals can no longer come back, but Ultra isn't mortal. He's a seraphim. However, his powers were stripped, and he should still be in rehabilitation for a very long time. The thing truly preventing him from returning, though, is the fact that he's being held where he is."

"Who's holding him?"

"Kami-sama."

"That'd make getting him back pretty fucking unlikely, wouldn't you say?"

"Indeed. However, you are quite unlikely as well."

Well, shit. It was time to stop waiting for the information to come to us.

"Pack up, Itami. I'm gonna make some calls, then we're going for a ride."

**********************************************

Reliable information had been getting harder and harder to find, so Itami and I decided to start calling in some old debts. The first was an ex-kamen who's team we'd killed a while back. The average kamen wouldn't appreciate that sort of thing, but this guy wasn't your average kamen. He was already happily married when the girl he was "destined" to be with woke up the kamen within. The fact that the girl was half his age didn't appeal to him, nor did the advances of the girl's underage companions. The girls promptly assumed that his wife was some sort of evil youma boss who had their beloved kamen enchanted and in her thrall, and tried to eliminate the problem. That's when we were hired.

A hell of a lot of bullets later, the "Magical Bumblebee Tuna Goddesses" were dead and we had a very grateful guy who couldn't pay our fee. Did I mention that his role as "Tuxedo Tuna" didn't appeal to him either?

T.T. had been paying off his debt little by little, sometimes with money and sometimes with information. His kamen power of fish gutting was absolutely useless, but his ability to blend in with a crowd of people and shadow lurking skills made him a pretty good spy.

T.T. was waiting for us when we arrived at his house. Poor guy looked like he had just fended off another come-on from a fish.

"Yoi, Itami, long time no see. Still stuck as a woman?"

"No shit, asshole. Still stuck as a sex symbol for tuna?"

"Fuck you, bitch. Hey, Itami, why the hell do you hang out with this she-male?"

"...Money." Itami replied. I'm almost certain it was a joke.

"Get in the car, fucker. We need to talk."

"Yeah, sure, lemme tell my wife."

Naturally, this elected whip noises from Itami and I. T.T. pretended to not hear us, but the way he shook his head as he went inside gave him away. Ah, the joys of friendship.

*********************************************

"Fuck you, Yoi. You don't know shit."

"No, fuck you, fishy. I know damn well what I'm talking about. Toshiro Mifune played the crazy guy. He was always a crazy guy. There wasn't a damn movie he was in where he wasn't at least mildly fucked up."

We had stopped for ice cream on the way to one of T.T.'s friends; T.T. insisted that she could help us out. As Itami worked on his vanilla/chocolate combo meal, T.T. and I passed the time the way we always did: by arguing about completely pointless shit. T.T. had been a law student before his transformation, and a pretty straight-laced one at that. Being turned kamen against his will had led him to try to become the anti-kamen, which had changed the straight-laced part pretty fast. He still loved to argue, though.

"Hidden Fortress." T.T. returned.

"He was completely out of it for the entire first half of the movie."

"What the hell are you on? He was perfectly sane the entire time."

"Look, man, it doesn't fucking matter, because Mifune was still the crazy guy."

"The hell he was. When the hell was the last time you saw a movie?"

"It's fucking irrelevant."

"Whatever, fuckball. You know damn well..."

"Yoi's right," Itami broke in. We stopped.

Itami has this way of saying something and looking at you that makes you shut the hell up and let him finish whatever he happens to be doing in peace. It works pretty damn well. Only once, back in high school, did I ever see a guy not shut up when Itami did that. He was a wannabe tough guy who thought stepping up to Itami during lunch would be a good way to get a reputation. After Itami broke the poor bastard's nose, he was able to eat in peace.

*******************************************

"This is the place. Pull over."

T.T. had directed us to a park in Ueno where one of his more reliable friends usually hung out. Even in the middle of the day, parks still make me jumpy. The weight of the guns in my trenchcoat made me feel a bit better, but guns alone don't make years of training go away.

"Okay, we're here. Where is this friend of yours?"

"Over by the swing set."

"What the hell? You mean one of the kids?"

"Yeah, the girl with the 'I Killed Chibi-Usa' tee-shirt and black leather jacket."

"Wow...starting young, aren't they."

"Yeah, well, college is expensive these days."

The kid had spotted us by then and started heading our way. I noticed a small bulge in her jacket under her left arm. Damn, kids were sure starting to pack early.

"How's business, Ritsu-chan.?"

"Cool, cool. You?"

"Good, good. My friends here are Yoi Kurasaka and Itami Daikoku. Guys, this is Ritsuko Chisaiko."

Itami and I both bowed; our job had definitely taught us that small girls deserved more respect than they got. The girl returned the bow.

"Pleased to meet you, Miss Chisaiko." Hey, being polite never hurts.

"Yeah, I've heard of you guys. You do good work. Call me Ritsu-chan." She then bent a little closer to me, and an expression appeared on her face that I knew far too well. It meant she was going to bring up...

"I heard you were a guy, Yoi."

...my gender.

"Yeah, long story, Ritsu-chan. Anyway, I notice you're packing. Whatcha got?" Nothing like a quick change of subject to get away from the gender thing.

"Walther PPK. Gotta have some style, hey?"

"Pretty cool, Ritsu-chan." I could get to like this kid. Hell, if more kids were like this, I might have to have a few myself. As a father, of course.

"Yeah, thanks. Let's get to business. What'ya need."

"Anything you've got on Akari Nazo."

"Who?"

"Ultra's wife."

"Oh..." The kid looked thoughtful for a while. "Can't say anything for sure. Things've been pretty strange ever since Shubby-chan got it."

Itami and I blinked and looked at each other; even T.T. seemed surprised, and he was supposed to be in the loop.

"What do you mean, 'got it'?"

"I mean got it. This is primo information, hey? Not even a day old."

Damn, this kid was good.

"What's your source?"

"Friend of mine from soccer. Her parents worked at one of Shubby's fronts. So she shows up today, looking stoned or something, and all she can say is 'Shubby's gone' over and over. I eavesdropped a bit, hung around outside a couple of Shubby's front businesses-they're all wetting themselves, it's friggin' hilarious-and whaddaya know. This stuff ain't cheap, hey? You cool with that?"

"Yeah, sure kid. What happened?"

"Seems Shubby had a few unlicensed demons running around the Earth Realm. The Head Office found out, and Gabriel his friggin' self got sent out to take out the loose baddies. The demons get dropped, and Shubby must have lost it. Ol' Shubby's been pretty hard up lately, and this musta been the last straw, 'cuz Shubby goes after Gabriel with everthing. That's just a bit outta Shubby's bounds."

"Let me guess. 'The creature is still subject to the laws governing the universe, and its rebellion makes its existence a matter of tolerance...the judgment of those set Above will fall upon such most harshly, and that tolerance will be removed.'" I quoted from the book Veracity had given me. "Shubby broke the rules, and the punishment was severe." Thank you, Rhyme-and-Reason, you little slut. At least those books came in handy.

"Right. Shubby was on her final warning, and this tore it. The Big Man Himself gave her to Lucifer to sit on for an eternity or two."

"You mean Shubby's in hell?"

"No, I mean Satan's sitting on her. He made an armchair out of her. Anyway, this is gonna be huge. All the other major powers are scrambling to recruit Shubby's followers. There's even talk of a new Balancers group being formed to try to keep the mess under control, but I doubt it'll mean anything. Too much chaos, way too fast. By the time they get formed, it'll be over."

Balancers? Aw, shit...that sounded bad.

"Hey, Ritsu-chan, hear the name Matsura mentioned?"

"The one from the old Balancers? Hold on, I gotta make a call for that."

Ritsu-chan walked over to a nearby phone, leaving Itami and I to give each other worried looks. A few minutes later, she returned.

"Yeah, friend of mine who works at a temple says he saw her come in and meet with an emissary. She's gonna sell out someone called 'the fateless' for a place on the new Balancers."

Itami and I exchanged another glance; I swear I could feel the knife in my back.

"Thanks kid."

"Hey, it's what I do. One more thing: if Akari's gonna get her man back, now's the time."

"Thanks. What's the fee?"

"It's cool. Next time I get hassled by wand-jockeys, though, I expect a freebie from the Magical Girl Hunters."

"Heh...you're something else, Ritsu-chan. That'll be fine. Good luck with the college fund."

"Cool. Seeya 'round."

********************************************

The ride back home was silent, even before we dropped T.T. off. The only time he talked was to ask if his debt had been cleared; I said yes.

Back at the office, we filled in Veracity on what we'd heard. She didn't seem all that surprised about Shubby; actually, she seemed to have expected it to happen sooner or later.

It was late, and we had a lot of work to do tomorrow. There was some old business to attend to, though, and I thought it best to deal with it before it got any older.

"Itami, Veracity, you two feel like doing some shopping?"

********************************************

While Itami and Veracity went to the Finn's...er...Murray's to fulfill my promise and drop some serious cash, I called Aika. We'd need her feeling better so she could fight, and I wanted her feeling better for entirely personal reasons. Luckily, her parents were still in the hospital; a youma energy sucking takes a while to recover from.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Aika. It's Yoi."

"...Hi."

Might as well be blunt. "Aika, we need to talk. Could you come to the office?"

Silence. Please say yes, please say yes, please say...

"Okay."

Close enough. "See you in a few minutes then."

"...Okay. Bye."

*Click*

Well, it wasn't the smoothest conversation, but it did the job. Aika walked in a short while later. Either she hadn't slept much last night, or the "raccoon look" was the latest inexplicable fad among the kids. She also wasn't talking. I could deal with that. After all, I wasn't Itami's best friend for nothing.

"Want to sit down?"

Aika nodded and found a chair. I took a deep breath, tried to relax, and began.

"Murray talked to me." Aika winced slightly at this, but I continued. "You need to get through this, Aika. I want to help." That brought a slight smile. It vanished quickly enough, but it helped me a lot; at least I was doing something right. "I know you don't want to talk about it. That's fine. But there is something I'd like you to do. I know this psychologist who specializes in magical girls. He hired Itami and I once to take out a kamen who was threatening him; seems good doc woke up the kamen's team to the fact that their masked man in blue was a domineering and abusive sex fiend. Anyway, he's pretty good. I'd like you to talk to him."

Aika sat in silence for a good minute. I was sure she was going to say no, but I wasn't going to bug her about it. Finally, she opened her mouth.

"Okay, Yoi. If think it'll help."

Hell yeah!

"I do," I said, flashing the reassuring smile that I had perfected on indecisive customers. It worked; Aika's faint smile returned. Then I realized something: I had no idea what to say next. I had assumed that Aika was going to say no; I hadn't bothered to think about how to respond to a yes.

Hmm...it was time to think fast. Aika needed professional help, and that had been taken care of. Maybe it was time to take care of what she wanted. If I had been raped-a possibility that my new body made significantly more possible-I'd want one thing: payback. Kawaii was dead, but their was still someone left...

"So, wanna kill Matsura?"

Aika looked startled. Given the sudden change of subject, I really couldn't blame her.

"Are you serious?"

"Sure. I mean, I was thinking about killing her anyway, and she does deserve it for getting you..." Aika's body had started to tense in anticipation of what I was about to say. "...into that...uh...situation." She relaxed a bit. Damn, I'm smooth. "So, you want to?"

Aika didn't reply, and it occurred to me that I might have made a serious mistake. Then her face hardened.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think I would. In fact, I definitely would. I've wanted to make that bitch bleed from the moment you brought her here."

While Aika's parents would have most likely dropped dead from shock if they heard their daughter say such a thing, my line of work had made me used to it.

"Cool. I'll call her and have her come over. Better transform," I said, bringing out the smile again. After a quick call, Matsura was on her way. It wasn't hard; "Nazo is Ultra's wife" pretty much did the trick.

"Yoi, what was that about Nazo?" Aika asked.

"It's complicated. I'll tell you once we're done with Matsura, okay? By the way, do you want to kill her fast or slow?"

"Slow."

*******************************************

Matsura didn't waste any time getting to my office. Within ten minutes, an amazing time considering we were in Tokyo, she came bursting into my office in a state of panic. Her state of mind wasn't improved much when Aika grabbed her from behind and duct taped her mouth shut. A 9mm to the kneecaps didn't help either. Like I said, I'm no psychologist. Aika tried to help with a .45 to the shoulders, but it only seemed to worsen poor Matsura's state of mind. Oh, well. At least we had silencers and garbage bags. Handy tip kids: as I've mentioned before, blood is terrible for the carpet, so lay down garbage bags first if you intend to kill someone.

"Hello, Matsura," Aika said, kneeling to get in Matsura's face as Matsura writhed on the floor. Remember, kids, mobility is everything. If you don't intend to kill them with your first shot, then make damn sure to cripple them. "What have been up to? I've been arranging an ironic and overly elaborate way to kill you."

Matsura's demeanor improved slightly at this, despite the fact that she was bleeding heavily. She must have thought we were both extremely stupid. She was wrong.

"I was lying. Actually, I'm going to shoot you a few more times, okay?"

Matsura began frantically shaking her head, but it was a rhetorical question. Aika promptly emptied her clip into Matsura's chest. See what I mean about payback? With a pro, payback means no warning, just pain. Long, drawn out torture requires facilities and a level of sadism that we didn't possess; besides, people like that are only useful as interrogators. The elaborate death bullshit is for losers. Being a pro means that even a slow kill is still pretty fast, and even when the payback is personal, you still make getting the job done first priority.

"Damn, Aika, you're my kinda girl. That was some cold-blooded shit. Feel better now?" Aika didn't respond. She did, however, breathe heavily and look a bit odd. Actually, she was glowing.

"Aika? You okay?" She still didn't respond. Well, not verbally, anyway. As I watched, she started to float off of the ground. Aw, shit. This had backfired after all.

"Aika? Say something. Please?" She was spinning really fast now, and a light show was starting. Hell, I had pushed her over the edge or something. She was flailing her arms wildly, some background heavy metal music had started, and I just knew she was about to open a can of napalm-flavored Pretty Deadly Whupass. To make it worse, I was fairly certain that I couldn't bring myself to kill her. If she went on a rampage, I wouldn't be able to stop her, even if it meant my own death.

She was really going at it now. Green, tan, and black beams of light were flashing all over the place, the music was shaking the windows-Pretty Deadly had a great sound system-and Deadly was whipping her body around like a martial artist on speed. Maybe some crack, too. This was really, really bad; I had started to chant "Fucking shit, gonna die" over and over.

She had started to slow down a bit; the music and lights were fading. I felt a speech coming on, and I strongly suspected it would be my last, if the strange look in her eyes was any indication. She had almost stopped. Show time.

"I am the beautiful warrior of destruction and carnage! In the name of...aw, fuck it, PREPARE TO DIE!"

Well, at least it was short. This was it. Time...to die. I was ready. Then, Deadly smiled and looked at me; she had only been looking in my vague direction before.

"This is so cool, Yoi! I feel great!"

"Huh?" Aika was still breathing heavily, and I wasn't sure if I had heard her right.

"I said I feel great. Better than great. I feel alive. I feel powerful. This is awesome!"

"Huh?"

"I think I just got a power-up!"

"Huh?" Like you'd be any less confused, asshole.

"Yeah. I think killing Matsura did it. Maybe she locked out some of my powers when she captured me or something. I mean, I remember feeling really powerful for a while when I was there, but...This is so AWESOME!"

"Um...wow." Damn, I needed a drink.

***************************************************

By the time Veracity and Itami returned, Matsura's remains had been picked up by Murray. Aika thought it a shame to let all that good meat go to waste, and Murray was a hell of a lot cheaper than our usual fixer. That buzzard can really haul ass when food is on the line. Itami and Veracity had done some serious shopping; it took us several trips to the car to unload it all. By the time we finished, Aika and I were salivating.

"Ooo, look Yoi, a Desert Eagle!"

"Yeah, check it out. We got three more!"

"Bitchin! An M249! And a Steyr AMR 5075!"

I tell ya, it was like Christmas, except without the nasty cake. The list of toys went on and on. Automatic shotguns, grenade launchers, sniper rifles, and much, much more. Itami had also stocked up on pointy things, including-you guessed it-a new sword.

"Christ, Itami, another one? What kind of demon lives in it?"

"Murasame," Itami grunted.

"Oh...well, then...I guess there's nothing wrong with a sword that's merely bloodthirsty and cursed." I'm honestly not sure if I was being sarcastic. "No demon, though?"

Itami shook his head.

"Cool. Now, I think I know what to do about Akari. Aika, here's what's happened..."

After some exposition, it was time for bed. We had a big day ahead of us.

*******************************************************************

We met back at the office the next morning, ready to kick ass. The situation was simple. We needed information on Akari, and we needed it bad. We couldn't rely on our usual sources to validate what Akari had told me; hell, they didn't even know that she was Ultra's friggin' wife. Anyone who might be in a position to know about the prophetic shit she had been telling me would also be in a position to profit on my decision, so that was out, too. We had to talk to Mrs. Ultra again, and we had to do it so that we had control.

I was a bit stumped, but Veracity and the newly-enhanced Pretty Deadly came up with something. All it required was a roll of 500-yen coins, three cellular phones, and some stuff we already had...like guns...lots of guns. After collecting the roll of coins and the phones, we began looking for Ootaki.

He wasn't hard to find. After asking around in a few of the more disreputable parts of the city and parting with some large bills, we got the name of a bar that Ootaki frequented. The place wasn't the worst I'd seen, but it definitely wasn't the best. They served a decent drink, assuming you like tap water with your booze. I waited inside, while Itami and Deadly staked out the door from the car.

Around 10:00, Ootaki showed up. My job was to get him drunk. I let five minutes or so pass, then walked over to his place at the bar and sat down. He had almost no chance of recognizing me; I was wearing one of Veracity's new dresses, and Aika and Veracity had spent a hell of a long time getting me made up. Quit laughing, bastard, it was part of the job.

The outfit worked; Ootaki never had a clue. After a few macho comments from him and some eye batting from me, we were pounding down the liquor. At least, Ootaki was. I had to stay sober, or the rest of the plan wouldn't be worth shit. Once Ootaki was good and hammered, I excused myself, called Itami, then whispered something about going back to my place in Ootaki's ear. We were out the door seconds later; Itami was waiting. Mr. Sullen has a pretty good punch to begin with, and the roll of 500-yen coins he was holding must have made his right fist feel like a sledgehammer as it smashed into Ootaki's gut. After Mr. Tougher-Than-Thou had finished throwing up, I hauled him off the ground and held him against the wall. He still seemed a bit out of it, but Itami fixed that nicely. Most people pay attention when there's a sword being held to their throat.

"Okay, Ootaki, listen carefully. We want to talk to your boss, but the bitch didn't leave her number. You with me so far?"

Ootaki nodded his head slightly. Not too much, of course; Itami's new sword made razors seem dull.

"Good. This phone is going to ring in one hour," I said while shoving a cell phone in his pocket. "If Akari doesn't pick up, you and Itami's sword get to be close friends. Got it? Then go."

Ootaki took off like only a man confused, drunk, and scared for his life can. If it wasn't for the alcohol, he might have realized it was a set-up. Then again, if he had been a little smarter, he wouldn't have gotten drunk in the first place.

Pretty Deadly jumped onto the nearest roof and began following Ootaki as soon as he had a reasonable lead. A few minutes later my cell phone rang, and Itami and I followed Deadly's directions in the car.

*************************************

"Okay, now he's headed into an office building."

"Pretty late to be working, don't you think?"

"Yeah, a bit. I'm going to follow him inside."

"Okay, but be careful. What building?"

"Take a left, then look for me on your right. I'll wave to you before I go in."

"Gotcha."

**************************************

Five minutes later, we were lying on the roof of the building across the street from Mrs. Ultra's new office. Itami had convinced the lone guard to take a nap, and we'd used a few dozen meters of duct tape to tuck him in for the night. Other than him, the building had been deserted. No people means nobody to hear weapons fire, and that made Itami and I very happy.

Ootaki had delivered the cell phone with 8 minutes to spare, so we had time to set up. Akari was sitting at her desk with her back to the window, while Ootaki was sitting across from the desk and facing the window. I was staring at Ootaki's spiky head through the scope of the M249, and Itami was using the AMR 5075. We figured that, if anything could go through Mrs. Ultra's shield, the AMR 5075 would. As a bonus, both of the weapons made any body armor that our targets might be wearing irrelevant.

The weapons were ready, the trap was set, and Itami was drinking a coke he'd borrowed from the rent-a-cop's lunch box. This sure brought back memories...

***********************************

"Come on, Itami, hand me the damn silencer!"

We were perched on a roof, waiting for our magical little paycheck to emerge from her hideout. Those were our early days, when customers often asked if they could pay our fee with siphoned energy or snazzy youma general outfits. My partner had the silencer, and was ignoring my requests for it.

"Hurry up, give it here!"

Itami's silence continued. I sighed heavily and gritted my teeth before trying again.

"Itami, finish your damn coke and give my the bottle so I can use it as a silencer, shoot the kid, and get paid, you sullen sonofabitch."

Itami smiled slightly, which meant the corners of his mouth rose about three degrees, and took one last drink before handing the bottle over. Here's another handy tip: if you're hard up for a silencer, try a 2-liter soda bottle.

"Thank you, ya bastard."

Even though he had been messing with me, I couldn't help smiling. Those were the days when Itami still had something resembling a vague facsimile of a sense of humor. We were fresh out of high school, and the constant killing, running from pink shiny death, and backstabbings from customers hadn't turned us into the extremely cynical, hyper-paranoid bastards you know and love. We were already cynical and paranoid, of course, just not to such a great degree. Ah, youth.

********************************************

Better get back to the events at hand; our early days would be another story entirely. The hour was up, Pretty Deadly was in position, and, from the looks of it, Akari Ultra had just started to make sense of Ootaki's story. Following the ranting of a drunk, scared guy with a heavy accent is not easy. I dialed the number. Akari picked up after the first ring.

"Hello? Who is thi..."

"Duck. Now."

To her credit, Akari immediately hit the deck, clearing the way for about 30 bullets from my M249 to annihilate Ootaki's chest. I hadn't planned to stop at 30, but Akari put her shield up; at least she couldn't keep that thing up all the time. Remember boys and girls, when someone tells you to duck or get down, don't ask questions, and sure as hell don't look to see what's so dangerous. Hit the floor as fast as you can, before you even start to worry about your next move. Like putting up a shield, for example.

"Get any blood on your nice clothes, Mrs. Ultra?"

"Yoi Kurasaka? Is that you?"

"Live and in person, babe. Now don't worry, I'm not going to kill you just yet. Get up off the floor and have a seat so we can talk." This was damn fun. Akari looked visibly shaken as she got up off the floor and sat down at her desk.

"Good job. Now don't try to run. Pretty Deadly is waiting outside your door, and Itami has a very powerful gun pointed at the back of your neck. The rounds have Shinto wards engraved on them to dispel your shield, and I seriously doubt that you'd be able to stop them anyway." Hey, it was partially true.

"Thank you for your warning, Mr. Kurasaka. May I ask way you felt it necessary to kill Ootaki?"

Akari was doing a damn good job of trying to sound like her cool, in control self, but nobody recovers from something like that in just a few seconds. Besides, the bloody pulp that Ootaki had become was even a bit unsettling to me, and I was across the street.

"The bastard hit on me. That's not important, though. You telling the truth is important. You and I are going to have a little talk, Mrs. Ultra, and, if I ever think you're lying, Itami will shoot you in the left arm. Each time I think you're lying, you get another hole in another limb. We'll keep talking until I'm satisfied or until Itami runs out of limbs and is forced to shoot you in the head. Understand?"

"Mr. Kurasaka, lying does not become you. You do not possess any magical abilities as of yet, and you most certainly cannot shoot through my shield"

Tricky. The whole plan would have been worthless if Akari took control of the conversation or thought that we were bluffing. I pushed the mute button and turned to Itami.

"Think you can put a shot into her computer?"

Itami grunted, took aim and fired. The air in front of the window shimmered for a moment, and I and just enough time to start to think we'd lost. Then the air seemed to shatter and the computer monitor on Akari's desk promptly ceased to exist. The flechette had passed through the shield entirely, fragmented, destroyed the monitor, and had went on to put a series of large holes in the next several walls. Itami managed to sum up my feelings perfectly.

"Sweet ass."

"Itami, that was one of the greatest fucking things I've ever heard. Say it again, man."

Itami shook his head and seemed slightly embarrassed, but I knew he was happy. The gun had worked, Akari was pissing her pants, and I swear I'd heard Deadly yell "Holy shit!" from across the street after Itami had fired. Life was good, the plan had worked, and it was time for some pleasant conversation.

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Weapons information:

The Desert Eagle is pretty much the only common semiautomatic .44 magnum. This allows the use of a silencer, an option not available for revolvers. The Desert Eagle has appeared in several movies; it is easily distinguished by the barrel, which appears triangular when viewed from the front. The Desert Eagle is a hand cannon, to say the least; a person wearing a standard bullet-proof vest would still suffer severe internal injuries, broken ribs, and serious loss of mobility if hit by one from a significant distance. A point blank shot would most likely go right through the vest, depending on the ammunition being used.

The M249 is the U.S. Army's new squad assault rifle, replacing the M60 on squads. It features a cyclic rate of up to 930 rpm and is noted for its extreme reliability and accuracy. It is capable of penetrating a U.S. Army steel helmet at 1100 meters, and matches power with the M60 despite smaller ammunition. It is also lightweight, both in terms of the empty weapon and the ammunition it uses.

First shown in 1990, the AMR (Anti Material Rifle) 5075 is one of the best heavy sniping rifles available. To quote _Modern Small Arms_ by Ian Hogg, "The AMR 5075 is a heavyweight precision rifle for a long-range attack...the cartridge is a very powerful design. Instead of building the weapon around an existing cartridge, Steyr designed the cartridge to do what was wanted and then designed the weapon to suit. The cartridge case is of part-plastic construction and carries a 36-gram (1.25 ounce) tungsten flechette which has a muzzle velocity of 4920 ft/sec (1500 m/sec) and an effective range up to 2000 meters, depending upon the type of target. At 800 meters range this flechette has penetrated 40mm of rolled steel armor and then shattered behind the plate to give severe fragmentation damage." This weapon is designed to take out sensitive technology, not humans, and is intended to go through heavy armor if needed. In addition, it is designed to have recoil similar to a standard rifle

"Murasame" is the name of the maker of Itami's sword. Murasame and Masamune are legendary Japanese swordsmiths. They both produced blades of amazing quality, but Masamune's blades are said to embody the true spirit of the samurai while Murasame's are cursed and unlucky. In other words, Masamune's blades repel violence and conflict while Murasame's attract violence and conflict. Supposedly, the two can be distinguished by placing each in a stream in autumn so that the blade faces upstream. The floating leaves will part around one of Masamune's blades and pass unharmed, but one of Murasame's blades will draw the leaves to it and cut each one. Both blades and names show up often in Japanese literature and media. For example, the Japanese literary classic "The Hakkenden" features a Murasame; anime fans may know that this centuries-old work has been made into an anime. Both blades also show up frequently in video games, such as in the Final Fantasy series, and in movies. There are nume rous other legends ascribed to each blade, many of which may be contradictory.

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Acknowledgments:

Great thanks to Roe and my brother, Aaron, for prereading.

Massive levels of gratuitous thanks to Neopuu for providing tons of C&C, lots of good ideas, and generally doing a lot to make this part happen.

Firearms data from remtek.com and Ian Hogg, as cited.

Hope you enjoyed it.