23rd Bullet: The Black Wolf Beneath the Crescent Moon ④

They stalked each other as Janda's typhoon of water jetted around his arm, hostile yet vigilant. Hanze-fi walked straight, posture correct and eyes observing. A sudden dash and Janda had closed down the distance in less than a second, his hands jutting out in complex blows.

A palm shot was blocked. A low kick was countered that was met with a dodge. They split and Janda leapt out with a roundhouse kick in which Hanze-fi grabbed, lifting him up and slamming him into the ground. Janda shot out a foot, breaking the hold and spun, his legs creating a miniature tornado that made Hanze-fi back away.

Back onto his feet, Janda pulled the water and flung it out, mini-spears shooting towards the cyborg that was rejected efficiently. 

His hands were shining chrome. His hands had turned into metal. 

"What?" Janda said.

"I'm a cyborg, remember?" Hanze-fi replied. "I can block and counter everyone of your experimental strikes. You're scared, aren't you? Every blow is just testing me, waiting for a clean strike. We both know you won't get a clean strike."

Janda wavered his body, his movements calculated. "Shut the hell up."

Hanze-fi did shut the hell up and morphed his right hand into a cannon. He blasted out a shot and Janda weaved, his Death Arm forming and firing out close shots. With a bob and ebb, Hanze-fi avoided the bullets and closed the distance, aiming an explosive shot right into Janda's face.

The Killright's head knocked back, water exploding all over the place.

"Huh?" Hanze-fi murmured.

The Death Arm had blocked the blast, Janda's hands covering his face. He pointed a finger to look up in which Hanze-fi humoured. Droplets of water surrounded him, the surreal look colliding with the disgusting area in which they fought.

The crew of men and Dorr watched the beautiful scene.

"My word..." Dorr muttered. He lowered his gun and watched the sight before the droplets sharpening and piercing Hanze-fi all around.

The cyborg lurched in pain, blood spilling and he growled before his wounds healed almost instantly.

The watched each other. They had pushed each other to a relatable limit. They dropped their guards, both of them breathing heavily.

"Lots of focusing, huh...?" the red-haired Desperado huffed.

Janda didn't say anything. They were on the same page. All that thinking, counter-thinking, striking and counter striking had unexpectedly drained their bodies.

Hanze-fi snapped his fingers and the crew of men backed away before departing. "I apologize for the abrupt actions of the Black Angels."

"So you are in cohorts with them?" Janda said.

Hanze-fi shook his head. "If you think the Mavericks are after San Fran, you're sorrily mistaken. Such a rock in a vast desert, you have to see the bigger picture, Elliot."

Janda remained quiet and Dorr holstered his revolver.

"Oh well," Hanze-fi concluded, "I thought you were much more vast-thinking but I might've made a overestimation. Please, excuse me. I thought I had met a worthy mind." He turned to leave. "Also, my partner Colt is quite impatient for an opponent himself. So far, not all of you have displayed his requirements for a duel."

Dorr's eyes widened and he grit his teeth. "Severin Colt! He's truly in San Fran?"

Hanze-fi shrugged. "What's it to you? You wish to duel him? A frail man such as yourself, Dorr?"

Dorr glared. "He's just a man like myself. He's wicked strong but not invincible. He can fall to any gun a good slinger can manage."

"So be it." Hanze-fi began to walk away. "That was a decent fight, Elliot." He waved a hand, not looking back. "I do hope our paths cross soon. Q is expecting much out of you and the Unruly Crusader. Farewell."

With that, Hanze-fi had been swallowed within the dark, deep shadows of Hell's Trash.

♱♱♱

Zelpha and Akio trekked the streets of the Barbary Coast. It was, like any other hub of the hustle and bustle, noisy and quite irritating for Akio but she tried her best to ignore it.

"Ooh," Zelpha awed, seeing a street dancing performance. Fire flung left and right from the well-trained performer and Zelpha could only ooh and awe. 

"Focus, Miss Laylock." Akio sighed and looked carefully, eyeing the streets for a clue.

"But the fire."

"Miss Laylock."

"Look! He just did a backflip!"

Akio grumbled. She didn't know who was worse, Elliot, Keinricht or Laylock. She decided all of them were equals.

"Is that a chainsaw? He's setting it on fire." A gasp. "He just did a backflip with a flaming chainsaw. Isn't that wicked?"

"Please, refrain from being distracted," Akio said curtly.

"C'mon, loosen up. As your upperclassman, or upperclasswoman as I should say, gotta recognize the diversity, you know, I demand we have some fun. It's not everyday in your life you get to hang out in one of the biggest cities in the Badlands."

"But—" 

But Akio was grabbed and dragged by the boisterous Lieutenant to the Goodwell's Dance Hall. The building was just as big and bold as it was on the outside. The inside was clustered with fashioned out locals, big-time clubbers and people who were looking for some quick, one-and-done romance. Akio had began to sweat lightly. The sudden shift of environments made had made her uneasy.

Zelpha had slipped off the cloak and wrapped it compactly and placed it into pocket. The cloaks were sort of large but Akio had assumed that her skills to hide her Killright status and go for a dance had made her develop this uncanny ability to hide her cloak. The woman had began to dance and her limbs flourished. The way her body moved in the ground was so in tune it had made Akio start realize something, something she wasn't aware of.

That woman could dance.

Her feet glided on the floor and her hips circled smoothly and neatly, her hair flowing over her pretty, well-shaped face and—

Akio smacked her face gently. Goodness, what was she thinking?

Zelpha smiled and pulled the coat off, tossing it on a table and pulled her partner in close.

"Can't you dance, Kobayashi?" Zelpha asked.

"I've... not..." Akio began to mutter but Zelpha shook her head in disappointment that made Akio blush.

"Shame on you," she said before twisting her into a smooth waltz. It was less sporadic but just enough to get them within the move. Akio felt Zelpha's rhythm slowly tug her into the bustle of everyone else's'. In the glittering and overwhelming world, Zelpha guided her and kept her safe from the deepest parts. She felt in the moment and enjoyed it.

She enjoyed it a lot.

She was even smiling.

The laughed and stumbled together like two drunkards but they didn't care. They were happy.

After the dancing, Akio had taken a seat to where her coat was flung onto. She was tired. Zelpha had come back with a really expensive bottle of alcohol and began drinking in a shocking frenzy. She was trying her hardest to hammer herself and Akio had constantly refused to drink but Zelpha's persistence had cut it short so she drank to her limit.

Slightly shaky, Akio watched her partner lay on her shoulder in a drunken mess. She giggled like a baby.

"Look at you," Zelpha cooed. "You're sooo... small. Like an ant!" She tickled Akio but Akio kept her back just enough to keep her away. She gave up with a frown. "So boring. You... looked so... hic... happy dancing, Akiooooo. Hug me for a bit, will ya? Give a gal some love."

Akio didn't reply but kept her drunken partner close. Real close.

Scaringly close.

Her face was on the crook of her neck and she felt every giggle, every breath, every whisper.

"So nice... not like mom and dad..." Zelpha whispered. She began to sniffle a bit. "Mom and dad... they're the worst. You're not like them, Akiooooo. So not like them... hic." She held her face and hugged her. "Thanks for not being like mom and dad."

Akio kept quiet. Her eyes were gazing to a figure of a man. He had black hair, wore a black suit with thin silver stripes and chrome rings around his fingers. He took a drink and noticed Akio's gaze. He smiled, a quiet, yet sad, smile and looked back at his drink.

Her watching was disrupted by a pull of Zelpha, her face facing hers.

"Hey..." Zelpha whispered. "Eyes here, ya hear?" She giggled. Silence was kept and Zelpha leaned in, farther in and gently placed her lips on Akio's.

Sparks flared. Fire burned. 

♱♱♱  

Kenkaicho had a medical eyepatch that stung. He pressed on it and he hissed. Surrounding him were Black Angels. Not a lot but enough to scare the people that passed by them. They sat on the sidewalk on some crates.

"Kenkaicho," one Black Angel said. It was Johnny, the one Kenkaicho shot. "I think you shouldn't touch it anymore."

"Shut the hell up." Kenkaicho touched the eyepatch and winced. "Those stupid dumbasses caused this. Now I have to wear this for the rest of the weak."

"It could've been worse," a big one said. He had ugly teeth but good eyes that made even Kenkaicho jealous. "At least you shot his hand."

"And he blacked my eye, my eye."

The big one kept quiet.

A lanky one made a sound of realization. "The execution! That kid is going to get killed. We can watch that make you feel better."

Kenkaicho had a smile that brimmed on his lips. "Yeah, I nearly forgot. That crap-stain is drawing his last breath. If only I had the honours. I'd kill for that."

"Yeah... if only..."

A man in a hurry sprinted down the street carrying a green bag. His hood was up and his clothes were black. He was fast, his figure only flashing for a second but Kenkaicho knew that face from anywhere.

Short hair. Squinted eyes. Dark skin.

It was Navier.

He grinned in fury.

"Oi! Get him!" Kenkaicho shouted and his crew bolted after the Native with full speed.