A little tidbit...

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A little tidbit...

Post by jlaughter001 » Tue Apr 14, 2009 10:37 pm

From Kono's history that I enjoyed writing. I farted through Kono's history with a really crappy timeline, and then threw this in there at the end.

Too bad powerful enemies blows ass...Kono was fun. His original name was Matsukura Norimoto, and then he worked with Yakuza to change his identity to Kono Nariharu...and here ya go. Enjoy...or don't.

June 2037, Tokyo(short-story):

Matsukura glanced in the rear-view mirror of the armored sedan. Just visible through the tinted glass, the silhouette of his passenger was visible in profile, looking out of the window at Tokyo's passing attractions. He shifted his attention back to the road, to the corporate security escort ahead of him, the flashing lights piercing even through his dark-tinted glasses and lighting a maelstrom of pain that shot straight through his optic nerves to his skull.

Glowering, he guided the vehicle to a stop behind the escort and took a deep breath. Directing his gaze at the mirror once more, he noticed that the silhouette was no longer in profile, but appeared to be looking straight back at him through the mirror. All at once, sweat sprang from his pores, soaking the brim of his black driver's hat in an instant.

Who was this man in the back seat? Why was he so important?

A glance in his side-view mirror showed the other three escort cars close behind, mounted weapons traversing the road and pedestrians for any sign of a potential attack. Matsukura looked down at the clock.


Twelve minutes.

Who was this man? And was he really worth Oku's life?

If he reached out with his spirit, through the leather sheathed ballistic-mesh that formed the vehicle's front bench-seat, he could almost feel the negative chi of the explosive device planted underneath his seat. Its dark presence coated his hands like slime, a layer of filth underneath his clean white driver's gloves.

He had found it in his room that morning. Right there in the mail-slot, where his regular correspondence and work-orders came in daily. It was in a small black box...6 inches long, three inches tall. Enough room for the block of semtex and the tiny media card. He'd almost called security immediately; corporate reflexes from corporate schools. But he hadn't. He'd slipped the card into his portable video player and watched its contents, and found out what it meant to have your heart ripped from your chest.

Oku, dear Oku. On the screen, bound and gagged and naked, hanging from a ceiling by the cruel straps that trapped her thin wrists. His twin sister's eyes were wide, terror-filled and glistening with tears. By the bruises on her flesh, the arrangement of the marks on her thighs and neck and breasts, he knew she'd already been raped at least once. Probably more. A distorted voice gave him instructions, and the gag was pulled from Oku's mouth.

"Please, Matsukura! Help me!"

He closed his eyes. She would live...if. Only if he killed this man in the back-seat. Only if he stopped the car at their destination and set off the charge. His twin sister would be released. A life for a life. His life.

"Driver? You look pale. Is everything okay?" the man in the back-seat said, his voice muffled through the armored glass. American? He defininately wasn't Japanese.

"I am fine, sir," Matsukura replied. The escort car ahead of him began to move, so he eased on the throttle and piloted the car through the opening in traffic that the escort had cleared. "I did not sleep well last night."

"Can't remember the last time I had a good night's sleep."

Please...stop being a person, Matsukura thought, inwardly grimacing. Don't let me know you on any level. You are a dead man. Dead men do not talk. I must save Oku.

...she's all I have.

Oku had always been beautiful. Very smart. Valued on Hosaka's staff as a top-flight cybernetic engineer, one of the up-and-coming greats. She had the razor-sharp mind that was so necessary for break-through, the edge that let her superiors know they should expect great things from her. Always very serious. Very professional. Very correct. Except with him.

And how much of that had been taken from her with the abduction and rape? And did she know how much he loved her? Did she know that he would do it? That he would kill this man for her, to keep her, so that he could hold her again?

He remembered her as he'd last seen her, aglow with the heat of orgasm, their bodies entwined so tightly that he didn't know which limbs were his and which were hers. Together--and only together--they were complete. Two halves of the same soul. Brother and sister, twins, a single unified personality. Without her, he could not live.


The shuttle terminal was visible now through the haze. He sighed and gathered his resolve. Here, where traffic was heaviest...this was the place. He reached underneath the steering wheel and thumbed the sensor he'd installed this morning. The car's engine sputtered, coughed, and died.

"Car 1," he spoke into the microphone, identifying himself. "I am experiencing engine trouble. I must pull over and try to start the car."

"Acknowledged," came the response. The escort cars cleared a path to the narrow shoulder, and Matsukura brought the car to a smooth halt on top of a bridge. He turned the key a few times for show. His heart was beating crazily in his chest.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yes sir, of course sir. I must get out and take a look, however. Please stay inside," Matsukura said over his shoulder, and picked up his radio again. "I must exit the vehicle."

Immediately, three security officers materialized from the cars and moved to take up guarding positions outside of the driver's side door. Quickly, Matsukura opened the door, slithered out and shut the door behind him. The remote detonator was in his shirt pocket, heavy and foreboding.

The sky was especially blue. He lifted the hood of the car and bent over the engine. The clouds glided gracefully overhead. One of them looked like Oku. Underneath the bridge, the river was deep, surprisingly devoid of barges and merchantmen, the water mottled blue and brown, warm and inviting.

"Ah," he said aloud. "This should fix it." He stepped over to the other side of the car, then sprang away from it. Over the railing of the bridge as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the remote detonator. Cries of surprise and alarm from the guards rang out, and he closed his eyes and listened to the wind hum through his ears as he fell to the river.

He pushed the button right before he hit, and the enveloping arms of the river muffled the car's explosion.

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