A Demon Like You

This story was posted in another section under a different title. If it looks familiar, that is why. Same author, different penname, so please don't write the moderators saying I have stolen someone's work. I promise, I own it.
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Chapter 1
I stood on the crumbling precept of the warehouse roof, staring out across the bay at the garish neon-lights of downtown Tokyo with a sigh, the come-hither appeal of the whore has not dimmed in my heart during all my short life. Yet, I wonder… what would my life have been if I had stayed that night? Innocence? Freedom? America? But I hadn’t stayed, had I? I had run like a slit vein, fearful of being ripped from the fickle heart of the wanton slut…

My cowardice had served to trap me in her polluted, rotting womb forever. A non-entity among a world of nameless victims…

I came back to myself with a derisive huff and slunk deeper into the shadows at the top of the desolate warehouse. My melancholia could wait; the mission was all that mattered. The Yasuba Corporation was beginning to put a real damper on the Yakuza trades and the organization was not happy. They required the situation be dealt with by any means necessary, hence my involvement. I made my way to the roof access, intent on bringing the arms deal to a bloody and decisive close.

The muted crunch of gravel assaulted my ears out of the stillness and I froze hugging the exterior of the building. The monochrome black of my uniform and mask afforded me some comfort, but the crunching continued to grow more insistent as it neared. There was no way that someone could know I was here I reassured myself as I stilled my breathing. Only moments later did I hear the sultry tones of a young man’s voice, “Come out, come out wherever you are. We’ve come to play, Blade Dancer!”

We? I wasn’t allotted time to think before I heard the soft hiss of cloth on cement block as a second figure materialized behind me in the shadows. I ducked low and pitched forward into the moon’s pallid light to avoid being skewered by the poniard that the shadow sent flashing toward my skull. I ran toward the now visible first man and drew my Kodachi short sword from its sheath with my gauntleted right hand. I would save my bugnuks for up close and personal if it came to that, I decided as I launched myself into the air above my target. The young man stood unabashed before the fury of my sword and actually offered me a smirk before arresting the motion of my blade with his bare hands. I had heard of people who were able to do this, but I had never met one. I was too startled to do more than keep from face vaulting onto the crumbling tarmac of the roof before my primary weapon was wrenched unceremoniously from my grasp and flung several feet away coming to rest before the raised housing of one of several skylights.

The silvery blue streak of steel demanded my attention as the momentarily forgotten kage (shadow) cut into the dance. I rolled just in time to avoid all but a thin slice across the arm. I leapt to my feet to catch a right hook to the jaw just behind the rim of my public face, a kanji lined, Kabuki-style mask. The force of the blow snapped my head around and caused me to stagger backwards. Quicker than thought, the comforting shink of my pressure released bugnuks sounded through the moon kissed air, ‘Shall we dance?’ was my last thought before a smug smile of my own erupted secretly behind the mask.

I swung without looking just to back the body away from me; I wasn’t terribly surprised when all I accomplished was slicing the atmosphere. The sinister chuckle that issued from my opponent was well-deserved and in its own way encouraging-- arrogance is the trained fighter’s best friend after all. Lull your opponent into a false sense of security and then shatter the illusion with a well placed blow… oldest trick in the book. Too bad it sometimes backfires.

I was unprepared for the blow to the back of my neck that sent a nearly nauseating wave of pain down my spine to the pit of my stomach. I didn’t realize I had cried out until I heard the satiny purr of the sword snatcher abrade my ears, “Such a lovely voice.”

I did the only thing I could do, as I was outmaneuvered and outnumbered, I ran. I felt the kage brawler pacing me as I drew near the edge of the roof, but remained calm until the second man suddenly appeared in front of me forcing me to change directions. They were herding me like an errant steer, the thought was unflattering to say the least, but truth hurts. The gleam of the Kodachi lifted my spirits minutely… if I could get a distance weapon I might stand a chance, these two were so fast. Feeling the long-boned fingers that scrabbled at my shoulder, I put on a burst of speed before erupting into a torrent of back flips hoping to deter anymore unwanted contact. I kept my direction by fixating on the pale shine of the sword before me.

My fingers grazed the blade. I hissed softly from the shock of the contact as I scooped the length onto the backs of my hands and sent the blade hurtling skyward before forcing an extra burst of strength from my heated muscles to land crouched atop the planked over housing of the skylight. I spun on the balls of my feet still in a crouch and snatched the hilt from the night sky before leveling it at the two men before me with my best Shi-ne glare.

It was the first chance I really had to take them in. The sword snatcher was a tall svelte man with fine-boned angular features. He wore a finely tailored white suit that made his auburn hair burn. His eyes were narrowed to slits of glittering glacial blue and his mouth was still set in that irritating smirk I had glimpsed earlier.

The kage was a dazzling contrast of dark and light. His skin was bisque, marred only by the flat shine of scars down the lengths of his arms and across his face which was expressionless save for his single brandy colored eye that shone with a manic glee. The other socket was covered with a black leather patch that gave way to a slightly raised scar that trailed down his cheek and disappeared beneath his jawline. His short, spiked hair appeared silvery blue in the moonlight- the sun must bleach it white I mused before taking in the remainder of his appearance. He was dressed in black leather from head to toe, an imperfect slice of darkness. The poniard was dangled loosely in his right hand, while the left stroked across the blade holsters that draped crisscross about his chest.
The sound of splintering wood brought me back to reality as I felt the planks beneath my feet give way. I swallowed a terrified shriek as I felt myself dropping. Reflexes saved me, barely, my left shoulder protested as it was wrenched about in the socket by the sudden stop. I dangled from a precarious hold on the concrete sill of the shattered skylight fighting my pulse down from my throat. My night couldn’t get much worse if I tried.

I looked heavenward thinking to send a silent prayer to any power that would hear me, but all I saw were two smirking faces before my head began to pound as if several rock bands were waging war behind my eyes. :: Nobody is listening.:: a voice very much like that of the sword snatcher’s whispered inside my head.

The last clear memories I had were of strong fingers prying my hand from the sill and then the grip of what seemed like many powerful hands about my leadened body. All light and thought faded away into a red tinged darkness. I was no more.
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