Page 32 of Striker

"Why are you here?"

He looks at me, confused for a moment. There's something not quite right in his eyes, though it doesn't seem malevolent, just crazy. "Isn't it obvious? I'm waiting. Or is this an existentialist thing? If so, I’m not feeling philosophical tonight. That’s usually a Tuesday thing."

"But why here?"

"Because I have business here."

"Business?"

"I'm buying something. I'm waiting. Was waiting for you, still am waiting for my business partners."

"What are you buying?"

"There's no time to explain. You wouldn't get it if I tried, anyway. It’s too advanced for you. Besides, the sellers are already here. So just keep your mouth shut and keep your eyes open."

A black car pulls up at that moment and three men exit it, one of whom has a briefcase bound to his wrist by handcuffs. All three are well-dressed, in suits, and look like they're of Asian descent. Of the three, one man steps forward. He's missing both his left eye and his left hand. He has an impressively thick mustache and his hair pulled back into a thick bun. Coolly, he looks Mayhem and me up and down.

"You are Mr. Mayhem, yes?" He says.

Mayhem nods. "I am, Mr. Takashi. Do you have it?"

"At significant cost, yes. Do you have the payment?"

Mayhem reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small bag of what looks like black sand. "Right here."

Takashi nods, motioning to one of his men, who steps forward to take the bag and check the contents. He nods and hands the briefcase over to Mayhem, who unlocks it with a key he pulls from his pocket. The sight of what's inside takes my breath away — it's a small, glowing orb, pulsing with a faint blue light. It's beautiful and terrifying all at once. Shockingly, it looks like the inside of the case is lined with something metallic as well. Lead, maybe.

"Is it what you were expecting?" Takashi asks, watching Mayhem carefully.

Mayhem nods, locking the briefcase back up. "It's exactly what I was expecting. Thank you for doing business with me, Mr. Takashi."

"You know the terms," Takashi says, his voice low. "If you misuse this, there will be consequences."

"I understand completely," Mayhem says with a grin that sends shivers down my spine.

Takashi smiles, too. A smile that's colder than Mayhem's grin of glee. The men to his side tense, as if preparing for something, and I reach for my weapon. "You understand, too, my friend, that I cannot actually allow you to leave here with that briefcase."

"I figured," Mayhem laughs. Before the other men can react, he launches himself forward, fists flying.

This is not the distraction I imagined. Shady deals, black powders, briefcases, and a fight to the death in front of a fish factory? What the fuck?

But I leap forward into combat, ready for a fight from hell.

One of Takashi's men squares up on me. With a motion as quick as a blur, he draws a knife and lunges; I barely move aside in time, the steel slipping by my face so close I can kiss it.

No sooner do I dodge it than he follows up with a kick that hits me square in the ribs, doubling me over. I swing a punch to create distance and then charge forward, hitting him in the midsection with a tackle. Our momentum carries us backward into the brick wall of the cannery, and he hits with a shaking thud. With an elbow to the face, I stun him, then turn and grab his knife hand by the wrist, twist it until he howls, and the blade goes flying.

Mayhem's laughter echoes in my ears.

He’s in the thick of a two-on-one fight and enjoying every second of it.

Hoping to finish my opponent, I unleash a powerhouse of a right hand and hit him right in the face. Blood spurts out of his nose and cartilage crumples beneath my knuckles as my fist impacts.

The man laughs, and I follow with a right hand to his gut, then another, then an uppercut that knocks him flat on his ass. I step forward and unleash a kick that catches him on the right side of his head and sends him slumping, unconscious.

"Not bad," says a voice behind me. "But not good enough."

I turn to see Takashi, sleeves rolled up, fists clenched. That all the warning I have before a left-right-left combination hits me in the face and I stumble backward, stars in my eyes.

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