The gunfire erupted in the room, glass shards exploded in the bar in the corner. The bright red neon lights flickered and dangled and the bodies, oh the bodies. Kyoko prayed that none of them were Haruka’s. On one side, the Yakuza who sold her into this life hiding behind cover, on the other side, Mexican men carrying automatic weapons.

Where would she be? Where could she be? Haruka wasn’t a dancer so she wasn’t in the middle of the room. So where, where?

“The bar,” Kyoko mumbled to herself.

Kyoko sprinted towards the corner of the bar as gunfire rained all around her. Bouncing off the walls, ringing in her eyes. She saw men without faces; she saw men riddled with holes. The Yakuza that brought her into the life falling like dominos under the violent hailstorm of bullets that erupted all around the lobby. Kyoko felt bullets hit her jacket. She saw the still bodies slumped over the bar counters and shattered glass raining down behind the counter. Kyoko ducked underneath the gunfire and jumped behind the counter.

She almost slipped with all the alcohol that spilled on the floor. Haruka was in the corner, hands over her ears. Black trails running down her cheeks with all the crying she had been doing.

She looked up and saw Kyoko, a wave of relief washing over her face. “Kyoko,” Haruka said. “You’re alive.”

Kyoko crawled over to Haruka, wrapping her in her arms and pulling her close. “Haruka, I’m sorry. I’m sorry about everything.”

“I’m so happy you’re alive,” Haruka cried. “I thought… I thought I’d never see you again.”

Kyoko kissed her cheek and forehead, running her fingers through her hair. “I love you,” she said. “I love you so much. We’re going to get out of here, okay. We’re going to go to that lady you spoke about and we’ll move to Metropolis or New York, far away from here.”

Kyoko held her cheeks in her hands, looking her straight in the eyes, accepting the love she saw in them. “No more running away now. I promise you. I promise you.”

…

“They call you the devil, you know.”

The boss ran a whetstone over the blade of the katana. Matt noticed that he had thrown his shirt in the corner of the room. Matt could smell faded ink smothering his entire back. The boss turned around to face him, katana to his side.

“No man would kill Roscoe Sweeney,” the boss said. “No sane man would kill the man keeping us together.”

The sound of gunfire was just but a muffle in this room, but Matt could hear the sound of bullets hitting flesh. The sounds of people screaming in agony.

“That,” the boss said. “That’s on you. If Roscoe was still alive none of this would have happened. You vigilante types think you’re doing the right thing, that you punch the bad guy and everything will be fine. The world isn’t that simple.”

“I didn’t come here to talk philosophy,” Matt said, though he didn’t sound so sure in his words. “Two of your boys, Yukio and Rin Okumura were found yesterday, caught trying to buy kids. I’m here to stop it.”

The boss laughed. His heartbeat was firm, nothing about it gave anything away. “There’s a lot you don’t know akuma.”

He held his katana upwards, body still, muscle tensed. “You’re not the only devil in crime alley.”

Matt charged and as he got closer, he heard the boss’s muscles twitch. Matt slowed down but it was too late.

Blood ran down the wound in his chest.

…

Kyoko gripped Haruka’s hand tightly, never letting go.

“Wear this jacket,” Kyoko said, draping it over her. “It’ll keep you safe.”

“What about you?” Haruka said. Her hands were shaking in her grip. “Will you be…”

Kyoko gave her the most reassuring smile she could muster. “I’ll be fine.”

They ran past, hand in hand. Bullets bounced all around them, making Kyoko flinch. Haruka was slowing down, her body shaking. Kyoko pulled her when she slowed, keeping her grip firm and giving her a reassuring nod whenever she slowed. They were about to reach the back when Kyoko felt pain flare up her side.

Haruka let out a scream as blood poured out of Kyoko but she held on firm and took Haruka away.

As they reached the back, Kyoko’s vision was fading. She was starting to slow down and now Haruka led the way.

“Just keep moving, Kyo,” Haruka said. “You’ll be fine.” They were right in front of the fire exit when Kyoko collapsed.

Haruka ran over to her. “No… no. We can’t stop here. We can’t.”

At that, the door burst open.

“Haruka, go,” Kyoko said through a raspy breath. “Go.”

“I’m not leaving you here.”

They heard Mexican being muttered.

“Go see Metropolis, go see New York,” Kyoko said. “That’s what you wanted right.”

“Not without you,” Haruka said, choking back tears. “Never without you.”

Their footsteps were getting closer. “I’ve always been dead weight. Caught up in my own problems, pushing you away,” Kyoko said. “Go.”

Haruka shook her head, swallowing back tears as the footsteps drew closer.

Kyoko pulled herself up. Haruka allowed herself to smile. “See, you can get up. We can make it. I know we can.”

Using the remaining reserves of her strength, Kyoko pushed Haruka through the fire exit. Haruka was startled for a second but before she could regain her bearings, Kyoko leaned on the door. Ready to push it close. That was before her body was riddled with bullets.

Haruka let out a scream as a man appeared, holding a machine gun and kicking Kyoko’s body.

“Puta,” the man shouted, landing heavy blows on Kyoko’s limp body. “Useless puta.”

The man turned and for a split second, Haruka met his eyes. Cold, brown eyes maddened by grief.

Haruka slammed the door shut as the man fired, bullet holes tearing through the door. She clambered on her feet, running away from the man, trying her best to push back the image of Kyoko’s lifeless eyes staring at her.

…

Matt crawled to the vase, trying to ignore the pain. Various slashes lined his body, each of them burning with pain. He could hear his own blood dripping from the blade of the katana like gentle raindrops.

“Is this the devil I hear so much about?” the boss said. “A mad man rushing into battle with no regard for his life?”

Matt tried grabbing a hold of the vase. He heard the man straighten out his katana, ready to deliver the finishing blow. Matt threw the vase but the man cut through it, glass spilling everywhere.

“Pathetic,” the boss said. “Just pathetic.”

He ripped off his mask and kicked him to the ground.

“Let me see the face of the man I’m about to kill.”

Matt tried moving as the man prepared the finishing blow but his body didn’t respond. The pain, it was too much. And then he felt it, silent footsteps sneaking up behind the man and he heard the blade slicing across his throat.

Blood trickled on his face as the boss’s heartbeat slowed. His body landed with a thud. He smelt it again, lavender. For a split second he could almost, almost touch her skin again.

“Matthew,” she said.

Fading away. Everything was fading away. The smell, his hearing.

“Elektra,” he muttered before his consciousness slipped away from him.

…

The door to the bosses office burst open as Fernando stampeded inside, his fingers twitching,

“Kazuma,” Fernando said, his voice dripping with venom. “We have to talk.

But when he got there all he saw was droplets of blood on the floor and a corpse lying in the corner of the room.

Fernando didn’t need to identify the corpse to know who it belonged to. He fired his gun wildly, the wall bursting around him as he screamed in an unbridled fit of rage and grief.

It was when he returned to his office when one of his boys walked into his office, head down.

“We found this at the crime scene, senor,” he said.

Fernando flicked his cigarette, blowing out a puff of smoke and coughing. “What?”

His boy walked slowly to Fernando’s table. He placed something on it. Fernando turned and saw a cloth mask.

“What is this?”

His boy remained silent.

“Speak cabron.”

“It was him, Senor,” the boy said, speaking in a muffled whisper. “The man who killed the Fixer. He killed the Yakuza bastard. El Diablo.”

Fernando gave him a tight smile before punching him straight in the face.

“I don’t care who he is,” Fernando roared. “Place a bounty on his. 5 million dollars to whoever brings me the head of this bastard!”