Sean Willis was pretty sure that he was about to die.  No 
matter which way he looked, it didn't look good.

If he looked to the right, he could see his hand pointing a 
Colt 45 at a psychotic religious nut with a giant bullet-
deflecting mace.

Of course, if he looked to the left, he could see his other 
hand pointing an Ingram at the GOD DAMN FREAKING DEMON 
HIMSELF.

It seemed obvious to Willis that this three-way Mexican 
standoff was going to devolve into a contest to see which 
bloodthirsty criminal could kill him first.  Not only was 
there the obvious skill difference, but there was also a 
disturbingly large gap in firepower.  Willis had always 
considered himself heavily armed, as he went around 
carrying two weapons each of which was more powerful than 
the standard police issue, but it was quickly becoming 
apparent that the people he was fighting now casually 
tossed around weapons that made Willis look like some 
prepubescent brat with a pellet gun.

However, despite the rather dismal outlook of the 
situation, Willis wasn't afraid.  This was not because of 
bravery, but rather because he had long since passed 
through fear and into a sort of hazy, adrenaline-overdose 
dream state.  It was a feeling not unlike being drunk out 
of his mind, right down to the little voice in the back of 
his head telling him that, while whatever he was about to 
do seems like a good idea now, it's going to look real 
stupid when viewed in a more sober state.

So, because of this unbalanced mental state, Sean Willis 
didn't do the sensible thing (which would be to apologize 
quickly, drop his guns, and then run for his life).  
Instead, he ratcheted up his grin and spoke.

"As a duly empowered officer of the law, I am hereby 
placing both of you psychos under arrest.  Drop your 
weapons and keep your hands where I can see them."

Now Sean Willis knew for sure that he's going to die.  And 
wouldn't you just know it, it's all because of those damn 
anal-retentive airport security bag searchers.




 tHe bLacK pAcK 


 
  Part 11, Day 16b:  Hale Mary, Oi Vey Maria
 

 
  impro begun by MtB; 7/22/2-7/25/2
   herein continued by David Schwager; 4/12/3-4/20/3
 



To understand why Sean Willis is trying to stare down two 
of the most deadly people alive, we need to go back in time 
a bit:

A young woman dressed head to toe in form-fitting black 
walked quickly through the traditional Japanese yard, her 
target the large house in the center.  Despite the fact 
that her movements were precise and measured as she 
carefully avoided the traps she and her sister had set 
around the yard, it was clear that she was not in top form.  
She had a long half-healed gash on the side of her head, 
and the right side of her clothing was marred by a large 
patch of dried blood.

After clearing the last of the traps, she all but ran the 
last ten feet to the side of the house and threw open the 
rice-paper door to the dining room.  "Oneesan, I-" she 
began, but froze when she realized who was inside.  
"Oneesan, why?" she managed weakly.

"I'm sorry, Haruna," said Akiko as she bowed her head over 
the cup of tea she had been drinking, attempting to hide 
her tears.  "But, you failed in the mission.  You were 
beaten.  You know the rules."

"Now now, there's no reason to be ashamed of a good deed," 
said the Bishop kindly as he put down his tea cup with a 
slight clink.  Then he turned to face the newcomer.  "The 
time has come for you, Haruna, to taste of my Heavenly 
Justice.  In your native language I believe you would call 
it Tenchu, yes?"

In a blindingly fast motion, he reached into his coat with 
his left hand and pulled out a handgun shaped like a cross, 
with an extra clip coming straight up from where the normal 
grip would be.  His right hand was already around the hilt 
of his mace.  Haruna's face hardened as she fell into a 
battle stance, moonlight glinting off the wire she held 
between her hands.

"I'm afraid that your efforts are useless," said the Bishop 
as if he was educating a wayward child.  "There is no way 
for you to avoid my Heavenly Justice."

Then he fired.

Wait, that's too far back.  Let's try it again.  Those 
airport bag inspectors should work.

Sean "Soniko" Willis spits out his half-finished cigarette 
before entering the airport.  Scanning for possible 
baddies, he comes up empty and gets in line to buy tickets 
with "Agatha" Akiko trailing behind.  So far it's going 
well; if the assassin sees anyone they need to be worried 
about, she'll tug his sleeve to alert him.  However, the 
tickets are procured with ease and the mismatched pair head 
towards their flight's gate.

Halfway through the baggage line Willis feels a sharp tug 
on his sleeve and nearly draws one of his guns, a sure sign 
of too much tension.  Instead, he looks over and follows 
Akiko's gaze to a Japanese couple.  The man is hovering 
ineffectually nearby while the woman's bags are being gone 
through with a fine toothed comb.

Akiko shakes her head and looks away unconcerned, which 
means the two weren't really a threat to them now.  But 
Wills has stopped dead because he just had a revelation.  
Some simple part of him had been expecting to flash his 
badge to security and have it dispel all problems like it 
was some sort of magical talisman.  After all, he was 
covertly bringing a key witness (granted, an incredibly 
deadly witness) to safety.  His boss had even approved.  
Well, he would certainly approve once he got the note 
Willis had left during their brief stay at the station.  
Well, actually, he would probably give Willis a tongue-
lashing strong enough to cause actual physical pain, but 
deep down inside, in the hidden place in his heart that all 
true street cops convince themselves exists within their 
superior, his boss would approve, or at least tolerate it.

However, Willis realized that this was not going to happen.  
Airport security had no doubt already been briefed about 
the (very likely) possibility of a female Japanese prison 
escapee attempting to flee by way of airplane.  The fact 
that she is attempting to flee into police custody rather 
than away from it is beside the point, because other than 
his and her word for it there's no proof that it's true.  
Which means he just wasted a lot of money on plane tickets.

Thank god he charged them to his expense account, although 
he would have a hell of a time explaining them at his next 
review.  He gave one last glance over to the couple who 
were being searched and saw them re-board their plane.  At 
this point he gave a little prayer of thanks to the baggage 
checkers, not realizing that several hours later he would 
wish fervently for a nice jail cell to rot in rather than, 
as was becoming increasingly likely, a human-sized hole in 
the ground.

"Change of plans," he whispered to his companion.  "A plane 
won't be safe.  We'll have to find some other way to get 
out of here."

Akiko glared at him with a mixture of anger and disgust, 
but followed him out of line and towards the exit anyway. 
"Then how do you suggest we leave?  Bus?  Rent-a-car?"

"I guess we could rent a car-"

"Too slow," disparaged Akiko.  "They would catch up no more 
than fifty miles outside the city."

"Damnit, can't you just kill this guy?  You're good, right?  
You keep talking about trying to be the best and all."

"I've... seen him fight," said Akiko slowly.  "Even though 
his target dodged his bullet, she was still struck dead.  
Until I can determine how he did it, I can not hope to 
avenge her."

Willis perked up at that, and exhibited the usual policeman 
habit of latching onto words his conversation partner hoped 
would pass unnoticed.  "Avenge her?  So she was a friend or 
something?"

"She was... my sister.  Not by blood of course," she added 
hastily.  "But we trained together as children.  All the 
orphans there were family."

"In the place where no one laughed, right?" interjected 
Willis.

Akiko gave him a choice glare.  "I do not understand why 
you are so fixated on the laughter part.  I was not even 
aware there was such a thing as 'funny' or 'laughter' until 
I was twelve."

Again, Willis rolled his eyes with the weight of every year 
of police experience behind them.  "Oh come on, there had 
to have been something funny before then.  There's nowhere 
so dour that there isn't one laugh in twelve years."

"I have no real interest in proving you wrong.  So, what 
are we going to do?"

"Hmm?  Do about what?" said Willis in as purposely 
infuriating manner as possible.

"About the Bishop, of course," answered the assassin 
without the slightest bit of irritation.  "So, what are we 
going to do now that you realize an airplane is 
unfeasible?"

"I'm not quite sure-"  Once again, Willis locked onto a 
particular word that others might have let slide.  "Wait, 
now that *I* realize?  So you knew from the beginning?"

Akiko shrugged.  "Being placed back in jail may delay the 
Bishop slightly.  He dislikes killing innocents.  It seemed 
no worse than any other plan."

And then it hits Sean Willis, detective extraordinaire, 
that his star witness and companion has already given up 
and is preparing to die.  Any effort she exhibits to get 
away from the Bishop is only out of a vague desire to humor 
him.  This doesn't just mean that she thinks this guy is 
much better than her, because even a cornered mouse tries 
to fight back against a cat.  The important part is that 
she thinks she *deserves* to be killed.  Maybe she wasn't 
down enough to let a couple of obviously inferior goons in 
black do the job, but this Bishop guy was another matter 
entirely.

"Well?" said Akiko, interrupting his little revelation.  
"Do you have a second option?"

"Working on it, and you mean plan B, not second option," 
replies Willis.  The truth is that he used to have a plan B 
(hide until they figure out how to beat the guy), but with 
his new information he is trying to create a plan C (run 
like hell since Akiko is in no shape to help you fight) on 
the fly.  Unfortunately, he isn't having any success 
figuring out how to get away, considering this guy 
apparently has the tracking abilities of a god.

And then a rough Plan D screams into his mind like a 
lightning bolt.  It is incredibly risky and probably just 
as stupid, especially considering Akiko's mental state.  
Not only that, but it's mostly based on sheer bloody-minded 
stubbornness and a tough cop's dislike for being hunted.  
But for some reason it felt *right*, like it was the only 
thing they could do.  Obviously, the details needed work, 
but it went something like this: pretend to hide and draw 
this Bishop character into a trap, where they could kill 
him.

Willis had been around a lot of people who were as down on 
their luck as her (although never quite with this much raw 
skill involved), and he knew something about how those 
kinds of people worked.  Right now she had nothing to live 
for, but if he could give her something, anything, no 
matter how small, it would become so big compared to what 
she used to have that she would fight like demon to keep 
it.  The only problem was getting her into that state.

Great.  Figures it would all come down to a pep talk.

"Okay," said Willis as he mentally began Operation: Psyche 
up the Assassin.  "How's this for plan B: we kill the 
Bishop."

"Futile.  We wouldn't have a chance."

"C'mon!  Is your sister going to be at peace with you 
saying stuff like that?"

This earned him a hostile glare.  "Don't talk about things 
you don't understand," she warned.

Okay, thought Willis, message received, don't talk about 
her sister.  That leaves two people she has any feelings 
about that you know of.  Let's start with the guy who beat 
her.  "Well, what about that guy you wanted to defeat?  
It's hard to do that from six feet under."

Akiko shrugged.  "My chances of defeating him are 
infinitesimal in any case."

"With that kind of attitude you wouldn't even be able to 
defeat me," observed Willis dryly, although Akiko's amused 
grin said exactly what she thought of the difficulty in 
beating him.  "Look, you said you didn't want to die, 
right?  Well, the only obstacle to that is some crazy 
priest.  Even if he has some sort of trick with his 
bullets, we might still win.  We outnumber him two to one, 
and while I can't throw scissors hard enough to kill a guy, 
I'm not a bad shot.  Plus, since he has to come to us, we 
can set up any number of traps."

Akiko shook her head again, but more forcefully.  "It 
wouldn't help.  He has a... reputation.  He can walk into 
the most dangerous of places, draw all eyes and weapons to 
him, and still walk out unharmed."

"And just because of his rep, you're scared of him?" goaded 
Willis.  "What happened to the woman who challenged a 
legend where legends shouldn't even exist?"

"I'm not scared!" Akiko nearly yelled, glaring bloody 
daggers at her interrogator.

Willis backed off back into good-cop mode.  "Okay, okay, 
you're not scared.  So, why don't you want to fight?  He 
might be good, but you're not exactly a wimp yourself.  I 
can't see you backing off just because he has some neat 
tricks."

Akiko shot him one last glare and turned away, muttering to 
herself.  Bad, bad! screamed Willis' interrogation 
instincts.  If she clams up now she'll never get going!  
"Look, I'm putting my neck on the line for you in just 
about every way I can think of," he said (he didn't add 
"because you're the only one who knows what the hell is 
going on, even if you're quieter about it than a ninja, 
which you probably are" since that wouldn't help his case).  
"I'm not asking for much.  Just a reasonable effort to keep 
yourself alive, which I should add is something you want as 
well."  Willis paused, but didn't get a response, so 
continued.  One last gambit that might backfire, but hey, 
it's not like things could get much worse...

"I don't know what the hell happened in the past and quite 
frankly I doubt you'll ever tell me.  But putting aside the 
question of your life and whether it should continue, you 
still have things you want, right?  I know you want to beat 
that guy and to avenge your sister, because if you didn't 
you wouldn't have mentioned either to me.  Well, this is 
your chance!  Don't just leave me hanging out here."  
Willis trailed off, holding his breath.  Did it work?  Was 
he not totally screwed?

"A... reasonable effort?" said Akiko darkly.  "You should 
know that if I put in any effort, it will always be my 
best."

Willis grinned and lit up a cigarette in celebration.  "I'm 
counting on it.  You need any equipment for our big 
showdown?"

"I suppose so.  A good hardware store should suffice."

"Ah, I see.  Running low on sharp pointy throwing things?" 
said Willis sagely.

Akiko shrugged.  "Partly, but that's not all.  First, I 
plan to break a vow.  Then, well, you said you've never 
seen needles used like that before, correct?"

"Yep.  Damn nice trick though, wish I could do it."

Akiko gave something that very nearly almost qualified as a 
smile.  "Then in that case, I'm going to give you a real 
treat."

Willis grinned and let out a little laugh.  "Now that's the 
cryptic cold-blooded assassin I know!"



Willis gazed over the assembled industrial-sized spools of 
metal wire.  Akiko busied herself among them, subjecting 
them to arcane trials of pulling and snapping and bending 
that utterly mystified him.  He had never realized there 
was such variety among things that basically boiled down to 
long strings of metal.

He had also never realized how expensive longs strings of 
metal could be.  His next performance meeting would be 
painful indeed if he didn't get something big back.

Surprisingly enough, Akiko now seemed fairly willing to 
give up information as long as it wasn't actually relevant 
to anything.  He suspected that some important mental line 
had been breached during his pep talk, but just what that 
line was he didn't have a clue about.

Still, despite the relative uselessness of it, he soaked up 
what she was saying like a sponge.  He never knew when it 
would be handy to know a bit more about his charge, and she 
might let slip something about the case at hand.

Besides, leaving aside practical concerns, it was bloody 
fascinating.  With an emphasis on the "bloody."

"So this dojo you were raised in actively sought out 
orphans to raise?  How'd they slip that by the, uh, 
whatever organization deals with kids in Japan?"

"Only abandoned children were taken, ones with no records.  
It is also convenient during our line of work to not be 
tied down by paperwork."

"Okay, I get the picture," said Willis as he tried to 
collect his thoughts.  Although Akiko called it a dojo, it 
sounded to him a lot more like a ninja assassin clan such 
as you'd see in a bad Asian action flick.  He suspected 
that 'dojo' was a really bad translation of a complex 
Japanese word that didn't work very well in English.  "So 
you and your sister, Haruna, right?  Okay, so you and she 
and a bunch of other poor kids were trained almost from 
birth to go kill people."

Akiko gave another of her trademark shrugs.  "I wouldn't 
say that we were poor exactly.  On the whole, many children 
had much worse lives."

"Where they don't laugh for twelve years?" needled Willis.

Again with the shrug.  "As I said, on the whole it really 
wasn't that bad.  Laughter is overrated."

"Okay, forget the laughter.  How'd you fit into this place?  
You made it sound like you were important."

If Willis didn't know better, he'd swear she looked a 
little embarrassed.  "Of all the dojo members," she began, 
"I was the most talented.  When my abilities became 
obvious, the teachers began grooming me to succeed them.  
If events had proceeded normally, I would have eventually 
become the dojo master."

"I'm guessing things didn't go quite that well," said 
Willis with the confidence of someone who spends most of 
his life dealing with things that didn't go quite as well 
as planned ("He was supposed to die on the first knife 
strike!  Really!").

"That would be... accurate," Akiko responded with a slight 
hint of bitterness.  She had finally decided on three 
spools, and brought them over to a small testing area 
arranged after her specifications.  A three foot long two-
by-four was balanced straight up on a small stool.  Willis 
didn't know what she was planning to do, but far be it for 
him to ask questions.

"An... outsider came.  He had heard of our techniques and 
wished to learn them.  He had already crafted a reasonable, 
although crude, imitation of our moves, so we accepted him 
as a pupil for his talent and a large donation.  It was not 
an unusual proposition."

Standing five feet away from the balanced board, Akiko 
unrolled a good ten feet or so of wire from one of the 
rolls.  Hefting it experimentally, she swung it at the 
wood.  The wire wobbly flew through the air, striking the 
wood on the side and knocking it off the stool.

"Y'know, if you want a whip, there are stores that sell 
real ones," joked Willis, earning him a glare.  Tossing her 
sample aside, Akiko walked over and replaced the board, 
moving onto her second choice.  "So, what'd this foreigner 
do?  Kill someone?"

"Hardly.  His only problem was that he had none.  He was so 
skilled that after just three years of training, he was 
able to defeat me.  In under five, he bested the most 
skilled adult in our dojo.  I was disgraced.  That a 
stranger could surpass me so quickly and easily when I was 
supposed to be the best, our dojo's rising star."  As if to 
punctuate her remarks, Akiko swung the second wire.  It 
blurred through the air and wrapped tightly around wooden 
spar.  Akiko yanked the wire back towards her, and the 
entangled wood flew off the stool.  Willis wasn't a great 
judge, but it looked like there was enough power there to 
break a neck.

"Wow," he said appreciatively.  "That's pretty cool."

Akiko snorted as she unwrapped her target before replacing 
it.  "That was nothing.  I hope the last sample isn't as 
pathetic."

"If that was nothing, I really want to see your idea of 
impressive," said Willis.  "So, is that foreigner where you 
get your complex about being the best?"

Akiko nearly threw him a glare and sharp comment, but cut 
herself off before she said anything.  Instead, she seemed 
to take a great interest in a small section of wire, in the 
way people do when thinking about something else entirely.  
"Possibly," she finally admitted.  "I have never thought 
about it in that way before.  I suppose some of my 
vehemence might come from that."

While she thought, Willis had been trying to assimilate all 
this new information and paste it into his picture of her.  
Considering that the last fifteen minutes had given him 
more new info than everything he had known before, it was a 
somewhat involved task.  Now he was ready to bravely jump 
into the unknown with a wild guess that might connect 
things a bit better.  "That really skilled outsider was 
Remy Forsythe, right?"

"How did you know that?" asked Akiko, momentarily shocked 
out of her usual calm.  However, she quickly recovered when 
she realized his trick.  "Oh, you guessed, correct?"

"Yep.  That why you call him lord?"

"Not entirely.  I call him that because it is the best of 
several bad translations for the Japanese honorific suffix 
'sama,' which, in this case, means something like 'honored 
senior.'"  She paused and looked down at the last wire she 
held in her hands.  "After he defeated me, I vowed I would 
never again use the wire techniques my dojo specialized in.  
It would be dishonorable to pretend to be the greatest of 
the dojo when I could be so easily bested by an outsider.  
Still..."

Akiko whipped the wire through the air so fast Willis 
couldn't even see it anymore.  The only evidence that 
anything had happened was that the two by four split into 
five separate pieces, each cut as fine as if it had been 
sanded for hours.

"Jesus H. Christ," said Willis in reverence.

Akiko shrugged.  "It is adequate.  I suppose it is 
dishonorable to break my vow, but at this point I doubt any 
more dishonor would really be noticeable.  So, detective 
Willis, what do we do now?"

"With that wire... you... Jesus."  Willis shook himself 
into the present at the urge of a really nasty glare.  
"Sorry, sorry, put those eyes away.  First thing's first: 
we need a place to hide, so let's go see Vinnie."

"Vinnie?" said Akiko questioningly.

"Oh come on," said Willis cheerfully.  "Everyone knows 
Vinnie the Squealer."



It's quite true: everyone knew Vinnie the Squealer.  You 
couldn't call him a small time arms dealer because that 
would be an insult to small time arms dealers everywhere.  
As far as anyone knew, he had never had a single successful 
sale in his life.  At the first hint of trouble he gave up 
and ran.  If he got caught, he'd babble every name he could 
dredge up.  The fact that he hadn't been killed years ago 
was one of those miracles that no one seemed to question 
because it was so ridiculous; some went as far as to call 
it one of the seven wonders of the underworld.  Others said 
it was just because no one wanted to waste a bullet on the 
guy.

What almost no one knew was that this incompetence was just 
a façade for his real business: hiding people.  It had 
taken three years of unofficial investigation for Willis to 
find out about the secret (because he had known there was 
more than just luck to Vinnie's continued survival, he kept 
investigating when the rest of the precinct thought he was 
insane), and while he hadn't had a chance to use it yet, he 
was always happy to have another way out.  Vinnie hid 
everyone and anyone who asked, cop or criminal, regardless 
of their status with any of the crime lords.  He was 
considered a valuable resource by those in the know, so 
they never hurt him (although the very rare times they 
found one of his charges was another matter entirely of 
course).

This Bishop might be able to find them.  But he would have 
a hell of a time doing it, and even if he did he'd have to 
deal with all sorts of traps.



"Hey bro, where are we going?" whined Geraldine.

"I told you already, somewhere to hide," replied Garrick 
Foster.

"Good ol' Vinnie, right?" said Alexander.

Garrick grinned.  "Got it in one, old pal."

"Hey, who's Vinnie?  C'mon bro, tell me!" whined Geraldine 
some more.

"See, this is what I mean about small time, sis," said 
Garrick.  "Everyone knows Vinnie the Squealer."



Talking on cell phones causes accidents.

The Bishop was in a position to know this firsthand.  While 
trailing his quarry, one member of the Black Pack, 
Alexander T. Brashier, aka the Black Rook, he had received 
a call.  The message was simple: "Broken Queen returned to 
city.  Move to take."  However, in order to follow out the 
instructions he would have needed to lose his own quarry, 
and he had been attempting to transmit that when some fool 
had thrown jumping jacks across the road, causing him to 
totally ruin his new car.  The role of a defender of 
justice was difficult indeed.

Ah well, it was hardly Armageddon.  They could be found 
again.  Right now, he had a job to do.  He felt bad for 
poor Akiko, as he did to all the stray lambs he dealt with.  
She had seemed like such a nice girl the last time he had 
seen her, so polite and helpful, even handing over her best 
friend to the Lord's hand.  A pity she hadn't been more 
receptive to his teachings, or things may have turned out 
differently.  Now he would have to eliminate her once and 
for all.

The Bishop looked down at the GPS receiver he carried.  It 
was modified to not only give his location, but also that 
of the one watching poor Akiko.  He sighed with dismay as 
he saw that the other dot was halfway across the city.  He 
would need a vehicle to make it that far.

Ah well, no matter.  He would just have to requisition the 
next car that drove by.  It was a sin, true, and therefore 
regrettable, but small transgressions could be forgiven.

After all, he was doing the Lord's work.



"So, what do you know about this Bishop guy?" asks Willis.  
"Besides his ability to hit without good aim and apparent 
invincibility, I mean."  He and Akiko are currently in a 
taxi that's headed for Vinnie's office, and he has decided 
it's time to get a little info.

"Not much," replied Akiko.  "He is very religious, and 
believes that god wants him to kill people he has decided 
are evil.  He believes the best way to do this is to strike 
a deal with someone like Forsythe, who gives him targets to 
kill.  Forsythe gets rid of those he wants to eliminate, 
and the Bishop gets to appease his warped sense of 
justice."

"Great, so he's insane.  Just what we need.  Alright, we're 
here, let's get out."

Willis and Akiko exited their taxi outside the small, beat 
up house in the city's suburbs where Vinnie did his real 
work from.  "I hope he's in," muttered Willis as he pushed 
open the door.

If Akiko had waited just a few more seconds before 
following him in, she would have seen a familiar face 
riding a motorcycle around the block, patrolling for any 
foolish enough to intrude.  A woman in white, with a 
package strapped across her back that may just have been a 
rifle.

The first room the unlikely pair found themselves in was a 
reception room, where an ashen-faced girl sat nervously 
behind a desk.  Upon seeing them, she nearly jumped out of 
her chair.  "I-I'm sorry, b-but there's already someone 
here... T-the outer door s-should have been locked, b-but I 
forgot a-and... I'm s-sorry, but please wait a bit-"

Sean waved her down and walked on to the door on the other 
side, with Akiko following half a step behind.  "Don't 
worry, Vinnie likes multiple groups.  It helps if the 
opposition doesn't know which one they're looking for."

In hindsight, that was really stupid.  Of course the 
receptionist knew that.  If she was warning them away, then 
this wasn't your typical group.

Unaware of the snide comments from people who already know 
what's about to happen, Sean Willis opened the door to 
destiny.  Well, technically it's Vinnie's office, but there 
would certainly be a lot of destiny in there now.

"Yo, Vinnie, we-" was as far as Willis got before he saw 
who the other group was.

Nine years ago, a seasoned but not quite veteran cop named 
Sean Willis was brought onto the Demon case.  He spent 
three years working on it night and day, off time and on.  
He poured his soul into it, and looking around the room was 
like a little nostalgia trip, only without the good parts.  
It was like looking back on those old cartoons you watched 
as a kid and only remembering the bad parts.

There was old Alex, goliath and super hacker, the Demon's 
right-hand info and gun man.  Over on the couch was Mr. 
Silent Knife himself, super assassin who very nearly put 
the Demon out of commission, and caused a royal mess in the 
process (and off in the corner of his brain, a little light 
bulb turned on and Willis realized just who the incredibly 
guy with simple methods who beat Akiko twice was).

Of course, they were really just a footnote to the main 
event: Garrick Foster, the Demon, criminal extraordinaire 
and vicious murderer.  Superhuman murderer, really.  Where 
he walks, the corpses pile up into mountains of rotting 
flesh, yadda yadda yadda.

And he, Sean Willis, was facing off with him, Ingram and 
Colt against Bonnie and Clyde.

This caused a little shock of rationality, to return to the 
cop, and he looked to see that yes, he had drawn his 
weapons.  Their usually comforting weight was much less 
comforting when staring down those nasty twin black barrels 
his opponent was wielding.  And as if the Demon's glare 
wasn't bad enough, those guns could put holes through 
Kevlar like it was tissue paper.

"Ah, Akiko!" the Silent Knife greeted enthusiastically.  
"Doing well, I hope?"

"You know these guys?" asked the Demon cautiously.

"The woman, yes," responded the blade master as calmly as 
if there wasn't a Mexican standoff in the room.  "We've met 
a few times, although I doubt she was expecting to see me 
this soon, right, Akiko-chan?  Or is it san?  I'm sorry, I 
can never keep those suffixes straight."

Willis risked a glance to check on his partner, and found 
her every bit as white from fear as he was sure he was.  
Despite the fact that it made his position even more 
precarious, it somehow made him feel a bit better.

"Ho-neeey," said a girl in that malicious voice girlfriends 
use before tearing their significant others apart.  She 
also scares the hell out of Willis, who hadn't even noticed 
her before she spoke because he was too busy worrying about 
how dead the Demon was going to kill him.  "How is it you 
know such a pretty woman, huh?  And why haven't you 
mentioned her to ME?"

"Now now dear, no need to be jealous," soothed the Silent 
Knife.  "I assure you, it was strictly professional."

Suddenly Willis remembers how, a few years back, one of the 
other old hands from the Demon case brought in an article 
that had everyone nearly paralyzed from laughter.  It was 
about the marriage of the Silent Knife, legendary assassin 
and total loon, to the Demon's... younger... sister...

At this point Willis does the only reasonable thing left.  
He holsters his guns, backs up, apologizes profusely, grabs 
Akiko and runs for the hills.

Unfortunately, he only gets as far as backing up, because 
someone very large has stepped behind him.  The detective 
twists around and looks up at a huge seven foot man.  His 
collar is that of a cleric, and there is a huge diamond-
encrusted golden cross hanging from his neck.

There is also a large golden mace in his right hand.

"You would be Sean Will, yes?" the man asks.

"Yeah, although at the moment I really wish I wasn't," he 
confesses.  He already has a pretty good idea who this guy 
is.

"Ah, you needn't worry, friend," the Bishop continues.  "I 
have not come to kill you."

"Well, you don't know how glad it makes me to hear you say 
that, padre," Willis says.  He is uncomfortably aware that 
he and Akiko can't get back through the doorway to safety 
without carving a path through this guy, and the only path 
of retreat is straight into the jaws of the Demon.

The Bishop takes his cross in his left hand and brings it 
to his lips, kissing it.  Then he brings it down again on 
Sean Willis' forehead.  "Go with God, child," he says 
reverently.

Then he slams his mace into Willis' back, sending the cop 
flying through the air and nearly all the way to the far 
wall.

"The rest of you," he says cheerfully as he draws a double-
clip handgun in the shape a cross, "won't be so lucky."



Because of luck and observation, Icy hasn't come into 
contact with any enemies yet.  Well, not direct contact, 
but the Bishop just entered the house and before he did he 
left her a little present from the Lord.  As she heads down 
the road past Vinnie's front door, flames explode around 
her, running across the ground even faster than her bike.  
Instinctively panicking, she tries to turn, but there is no 
longer any traction between bike and ground, so instead of 
turning the bike just goes into a slide.  "Oil!" she 
realizes, although she doesn't know that it's a special 
formula designed for extra slickness and quicker burning.

At this point, anyone normal would just be roasted alive, 
but Icy is a little too good for that.  Instead, she climbs 
onto the top (formerly the side) of her transportation and 
leaps off to the side, hitting the ground with the thud of 
a person decelerating too fast for their own good.  She 
managed to get out of a very nasty trap with only a few 
minor burns, a cracked rib or two, and a brief trip into 
unconsciousness.

That last one's a real bitch.



"So," says the Bishop, "who wishes to be the first to taste 
the Heavenly Justice I dispense?"

"I would like to take you up on that offer," said Richmond 
Gray cheerfully.

>From behind him.

"Incredibly," admired the Bishop without turning around.  
"How did you slip out?  This is the only door, and there's 
barely room for you to squeeze between me and the frame."

"Ah, really?  I hadn't noticed," replied Gray with equal 
cheer.

The Bishop turned around slowly, pulling the door closed 
behind him.  "Buying time for your allies to escape is 
commendable, but I'm afraid it is futile.  Only one of your 
companions was my target, but as long as I am here I have 
decided to eliminate all of you."

"Buying time?  Don't be silly.  I alone am more than enough 
to deal with you."  The Silent Knife slid his trademark 
weapon into his left hand.  "Come," he said simply.

The Bishop grinned as he leveled his handgun, mace held 
defensively.  "A pity, but you will regret that.  There is 
no living being who can evade my Heavenly Justice."  Then 
he fired.  Gray, of course, easily dodged the shot.

Which didn't stop his left shoulder from experiencing a 
rather nasty bullet wound, sending the stealthy warrior to 
one knee.

Richmond Gray struggled to his feet, his right hand 
clenched over the wound in his left shoulder, vainly trying 
to staunch the flow of blood.  His left arm hung limp and 
useless, and the knife it contained fell to the floor with 
a metallic clatter.

"You should know now that there is no escaping from the 
Heavenly Justice I dispense.  My bullets are guided by the 
hand of god: they will never miss," the Bishop lectured in 
a perfectly friendly tone, smoke still rising from his gun.  
"So, my friend, how does it feel to be on the receiving end 
of my Heavenly Justice?"

The Silent Knife's smile grew wider as he straightened 
fully and released his wound, flipping his second knife 
into his right hand as he did so.  "It feels wonderful," he 
said in a voice that spoke of madness.  "No one has wounded 
me since the Demon himself.  I wish you would let me taste 
more of this delightful battle."  His stare held devils 
strong enough to shock even the Bishop, who unconsciously 
took a step back.

"However, I should warn you that you will not wound me 
again..."  Richmond Gray's smile became almost impish with 
implied mischief.  "...Because I have found your secret," 
he finished.

"I am afraid you are mistaken," said the Bishop cheerfully, 
although a trained ear might have heard a slight wavering.  
"There is no trick to the Heavenly Justice."

Gray let out a series of low chuckles.  "You could say 
that, and it would not be entirely untrue.  There are no 
magnets, no special ammunition, no traps, no remotes.  But 
there is a trick nonetheless.  A trick so simple, yet so 
well crafted, I didn't even realize it.  Imagine, me, the 
Silent Knife, unaware of another presence in this house!"  
He laughed again, but even louder.  "Of course, isn't that 
how it always works?  On the chess board, bishops come in a 
pair: one on the light squares, and the other on the dark.  
To make yourself as visible as possible in order to hide 
the existence of your partner: that is the trick of 
Heavenly Justice.  You miss on purpose, while from the 
shadows the other Bishop strikes home.  It must take 
incredibly synchronization; you truly deserve the wound you 
have inflicted on me."

For the first time, the white Bishop was visibly shaken.  
"How... how did you know?" he stammered.

"Simple, really," laughed the Silent Knife.  "Once I was 
hit from a gun that wasn't yours, there were several 
methods I could have used to determine if another was 
present.  However, the simplest was that your timing was 
off.  His gun fired nearly one hundredth of a second after 
yours."

"That's impossible!" yelled the white Bishop.  "A human ear 
can't detect that kind of timing even with quiet noise, let 
alone a gunshot!"

"Really?" said Gray, apparently puzzled.  "Mine can.  Can't 
yours?"

"You..."

"Oh, I'd get going if I was you," suggested Gray.  "You 
wouldn't want your other prey getting away, yes?  While I 
kill your partner, you'd better go after the others."

The white Bishop composed his face.  "I wouldn't be so 
confident.  Even alone, we are quite powerful.  Well then, 
please excuse me," he said as he opened the door and went 
through, closing it firmly behind him.

"How foolish," chided Richmond.  "The Demon will be more 
than enough for him alone.  Don't you agree, Akiko?"

"I could not defeat you, and you could not defeat him," 
Akiko's voice said from the shadows in the ceiling.  
"Without his tricks, he does not have a prayer."

"Well, what do you say, shall we kill this black Bishop 
ourselves?"

"Oh?  Is the legendary Silent Knife asking for help?"

"That's not it at all.  I'm just interested in how you 
fight with your new wires.  I hope you haven't been holding 
out on me."

"Very well, I shall give you a demonstration in return for 
unveiling the secrets of the Bishop.  I warn you though, I 
will be the one to take the live of this miserable 
creature."

"Ah, I'm thrilled!  Then, if you're ready, let's begin our 
third date!"



The white Bishop and the Demon faced each other across the 
expanse of Vinnie's inner office, weapons at the ready 
(Vinne himself had long since fled).  Behind the Demon, a 
giant hole in the stucco wall was the only evidence of 
where Alexander and Geraldine had fled.

"So, ready to die?" asked the Demon.

"I am always ready for the day when the Lord calls me to 
Heaven," responded the white Bishop.  "However, I do not 
plan to make that day today."

"You talk to much," said the Demon succinctly.

"Perhaps you merely lack the wit to understand my verbal 
prowess," countered the Bishop.

"I haven't had a good, one-on-one showdown in a while," 
said the Demon, cutting to the heart of the matter. 

"I must admit, neither have I, although I do not take the 
same pleasure in such activities as you.  My pleasure comes 
from serving the Lord," said the Bishop, putting himself on 
a higher level than those he fought.

"Just you and me," said the Demon.

"Just you and me," confirmed the Bishop.

"Aren't you god damn freaks forgetting something?" asked 
detective Sean Willis as he rose and leveled one gun at 
each criminal.

Ah, that brings it full circle now, doesn't it?



Author's Notes:

As usually happens, I had a huge complex plot that I 
slashed half of midway through because it was unnecessary.  
I'll try to cut down on my comments this time too.

First, I added Haruna and the whole ninja backstory for 
Akiko for several reasons, chiefly that she needs a new 
weapon now that she's lost her stealth suit (she can't just 
be the same as before, only worse).  Remy's wires seemed as 
good a choice as any, hence the backstory to explain why 
she hasn't used them until now.  Haruna mostly serves as 
angst fodder, and partly to show that Akiko can still have 
friends despite being an assassin.

If anyone ever asks just how close "friends" Haruna and 
Akiko were, they will be shot.  That stuff is better left 
to your imagination anyway.

The black Bishop/white Bishop thing just kinda sprung from 
my mind fully formed, so don't ask my why I did it.  I 
think the black Bishop is mute, but he doesn't have to be 
(hell, he doesn't even have to be a he).

I think my writing style completely fall apart there.  I 
ended up narrating whole sections in passive tense and 
generally making an idiot of myself.  My apologies.

I also apologize for not using the Black Pack enough.  God, 
this is turning into the adventures of Sean and Akiko.  At 
least they've all met now, so maybe Willis can do something 
other than brood and get stymied by The Man.

More apologies to whatever poor author gets stuck writing 
the guys out of their little Mexican standoff.  I don't 
think Willis is quite as outgunned as he thinks he is, but 
I started writing him as scared and desperate and it just 
flowed too well to change it.

No apologies for making Bishop a religious nut though.  
Really, if anyone takes offense, just go read a bit about 
the Spanish Inquisition or something similar.  If you can't 
take a few ghosts from your pasts in a fictional story, you 
have far more serious issues than I can help you with.

Well, that's about everything.  Hope I haven't screwed up 
too badly.

David Schwager, running on fumes and a prayer

...

Are agnostics even allowed to pray?