I feel the wind rip through my hair as the buildings race by me. The Kawasaki is screaming and working well after it was fixed with Barry's part. I skip into the alley leading to the dojo, a feeling of excitement, finally slamming the brakes behind my shop. I yank the keys, and hit the fire escape mid leap. Never let them expect what you are doing. I enter through the window, immediately glancing about the place. I enter the bedroom and glance through the clothing. I should have asked Vincent what the plan was, impossible to dress well otherwise. I grab a trench coat, and a backpack and start stuffing in my tools. Wakazashi, rope, flash grenades, long sickle and chain, climbing spikes, and my steel toed tabi you never know what you will end up needed always better to go prepared. I wander over to a small box I keep  for my special stock. Opening the box carefully, the stench of Feces, rotten chicken and disease are overcoming, but I remove my iron shurukins from their home. Always these weapons have evoked fear and misunderstanding. It could easily kill a man, but if it fails the tetanus and microbial filth will make certain they are not long for this world, well at least before antibiotics, damn progress...
 I stop in front of a picture of my grandfather and kneel mouthing a prayer for victory and righteous judgment, I never declare who I am praying for. I stand, readied, with sound mind. I appreciate my weapons but they are just extensions nothing more. I am death. I am outside and landing softly on the ground before anyone could expect.
I start my bike and am through the alley. I swing a left headed over to Fitzgerald ave. thinking to catch it uptown. Thats when I pass this cold black sedan. Cold, lifeless, consuming, it hits me like a bag of bricks. I sense them searching, am I undone, have they sold me out?  

--Last edited by Nakazawi Toshi on 2008-04-21 23:18:12 --

Nakazawi would notice the sedans are everywhere tonight...

Uptown, downtown, the slums, probably even the suburbs...

We are the reality deviants, the freaks, the disease.

The Sedan doesnt follow him, but its hard to shake the chill and the enemating resonance from inside the black tinted windows. So dark you never know exactly how closely the occupants are watching you...