Homeplot (2)

[babyviper]

Chapter 1:
The Empty Room in Osaka

Apartment 217, in a nondescript block of an apartment building on the outskirts of downtown Osaka, Japan.

Laying on a bare floor, a clunky mobile phone began to ring. Despite the amount of money such a phone would cost in the late part of the eighties, before the big rush really began, it wasn't even the most expensive item in the room. The real treasures in this tiny, bare apartment had to do with what was in the closet, which bore a simple combination lock.

The ringing seeped into O-Ren's consciousness even as she struggled to wake up. How late had she been out last night? That wasn't like her, and surely Angua and Dean would have had questions. Was she sick, then? Why the heavy haze around her? The fucking ringing was beginning to wear itself out, too.

O-Ren snapped up from her futon so quickly that she had to brace against the window. She was no longer even a bit sleepy, so aware she couldn't keep her hands from shaking as she patted herself down. Same self that had gone to bed the night before.

But a look around confirmed this was her old apartment. Only a few pots to boil ramen in. Blood spots she'd never bothered to clean up. Locked closet. Mobile phone ringing on the ground. She'd cut the regular telephone line herself, preferring this.

It stopped ringing, and O-Ren took a deep breath. "What the fuck."

Comments

[babyviper.livejournal.com]

O-Ren caught the grenade easily with her free hand, and she hefted Bill's head up enough so that she could shove the grenade in his mouth. They'd have seconds.

They only needed one, anyway.

She put his head firmly on the post at the top of the staircase, and sprinted down, still a mess of rain and blood. Most of the yakuza were well aware of what she'd done, and they ran too. O-Ren smiled to herself, a little, as she grabbed Arya's wrist and kept running. Those men could belong to her, if she wanted. Be her own personal army.

But as she skidded out onto the slick street, the neon lights of the city competing with the starry night, she'd tell them all to go to Hell. "Any minute now," she whispered to Arya.

[lonewolflives]

Arya slid to a halt beside her, the rain hitting her face and the exposed skin where her shirt was ripped from a dozen small cuts and tears. She didn't feel it; this wasn't cold, and with the exertion, all her muscles were burning anyway.

And then, inside, the grenade went off, and the building was, too.