Souma Yamasaki's Story

A busy day for the medical examiner at colcord point usually seemed something just short of a zombie apocalypse with the state of the gangland boys that came in. Riddled with bullet holes, bags of severed limbs, crushed heads. All the usual fare was still showing up on gurneys in the end of the room as he silently counted while eating the sub at his desk at the end of the room. It irked some of the rest of the staff they'd eat 10 meters from the dead bodies but he and the day staff cleaned the shit out of everything on the very regular. An iron constitution just came with the job after a few years. It's not like they plunked dead bodies on their desks. Well not unless the parts were in secured sanitary tubs anyhow. Then another body bag comes in, a huge mound of plastic, which in no way is going to fit on one of his drawers.

((Hey guys, there's no way he'll fit. Just put him on my slab I'll do him first then get him to the fridge.)) He called out in Taiyou with half a mouthful of turkey sub.

Beleaguered by the amount of bodies at a shootout the delivery crew that sorely needed more coffee just nodded if nothing else of relief. Though they grunted with effort lifting the guy off the stretcher. The bag didn't shift as much as the brown-haired pathologist expected. This guy was built but then everyone gets taken apart eventually. The examiner in his late thirties stood up and walked across the room to the sink to get prepared. Best get started on big boy if he wanted to get out at a reasonable hour.

Finished over an hour later than he'd planned at least he was still getting some sleep tonight. The big boy took a van to the midsection while kneeling. The rib cage was completely destroyed but despite all the adipose tissue that rounded him out he was indeed very built. It was almost a shame to cut through some of the tattoos but he needed to inspect the damage. Several dozen bullets and some plastic later he'd gotten out all the foreign bits into evidence bags and provided all the necessary documentation. Whether it would get anywhere or be 'lost' along the way was anyone's guess but definitely not his problem.

It only took a little while longer to get the huge body back into the freezer and wrap up for the night. Exhausted and passing the doors he turned out the lights. As the bulbs dimmed sixteen more lights turned on in a nearby duct. Having followed the ambulance it took some time for the creatures to find a way into the building unseen. Jinhai endeavored not to disturb humans without awareness of the Living Emperor. However their mandate to rekindle humankind persisted in spite of that doubly so when they saw a human die that might suffer true rekindling. Even if the humankind appeared currently in pieces the throne of mankind had not been significantly disturbed.

The twelve sparks poured out from a large drain double file organizing the ichorous fount into three sets of four humanoid figures. As they pulled arms and bodies out of each other each dispersed among the room. Gathering sample bags and tubs where pieces of him now isolated. One Jinhai surveyed the drawers, a second opened bags of shattered organs, and the last reintegrated pieces of the humankind arriving from the second. Many of the bones of the rekindled were destroyed or worse so the first gathered replacements from bodies too far gone to be rekindled. The true rekindled must first be whole for the image to be taken. They made minor alterations in the rekindled, correcting joint wear, cleaning the damaged arteries, replacing missing cartilage material, and either retensioning tendons or replacing them entirely. They'd learned quite a bit in the Wing City rekindling zone of the nature of long-term human wear. This particular one had quite a lot of it and was fresh enough for the soul not to have left the plane yet. Jinhai now held the attention of the resilient soul as they worked to reattach it to the body with a full synthetic astral tether required of True Rekindled. Though the soul seemed emotive about the changes made to the skin. Jinhai properly realigned and fused the ink pattern with skin crawling along lines of moving black ichor flung from an outstretched glove and the objection abated.

Having made what changes were required to repair the body Jinhai returned to the body among a crimson-scattered room. The unsalvageable bodies opened with surgical precision if without regard for cleanliness. The few others that could be rekindled receive all remaining parts of those that could not. Two Jinhai surrounded Yamasaki as the third acquired sheets to match the designs used by Jinhai in wing city hospital. White cotton spread on their surface a thin gauze around indistinct heads. Their understanding of inconspicuous behavior far shallower a body of knowledge than the human body. Patient to a fault the Jinhai stood stock still as Adolefactus completed the receptacle for Yamasaki. The moment it completed the process began on genesis to recall the disjoned soul there then to bind it to the artificial astral tether. It proved that the soul survived the process as pallor and red lines of scalpel cuts began to vanish from the body. Evidence of Yamasaki's soul leveraging the wellspring to rebuild its vessel. They would quickly need to move the other rekindled and deliver the True Rekindled to its home. They'd located the Humankind's identification as two Jinhai carried two bodies each and the last packed the heavier Yamasaki himself. The rekindled went back to empty beds for the Humankind to tend to once the rekindled reassociated with their repaired bodies and left the coma. There were a few stares but few patients interrupted indistinct 'doctors' moving around in the darkened ends of the hospital. Yamasaki carried slowly, bulky as it was, until the other two Jinhai returned to join once more into a twelve many. The 9 foot Jinhai slowly made its way across the city a now tiny Yamasaki in its large hands.

After the gang hit took out his whole group Yamasaki managed to still come out on top. In spite of him holding the door with bodies mounting he couldn't be everywhere at once. Bastards probably bribed at the back flanked him while they ended up having throwing a van at him to put him down. Had to respect them for that. While he was still fuzzy on what the hell happened the bullets digging out of his chest rather than in stood out from the haze on his way out the morgue. Odd monk looking sorts with blue lanterns carrying him while answering his drunken questions. They dropped him at the safe house on his ID which got him shot again leaving the next morning. That wasn't as much a problem now he'd found. Got himself out of damned Terra in spite of temporary bulletholes and back to Niihama. Once reconnecting with some bosses they seemed to know his body went missing and he might somehow be topside but the guys he talked to weren't about to tell him much more. Then a text message came in and they threw him right back out the door by way of the armory to pick up a gun. Big guns.

A car raced down the street the bald shirtless Yamasaki eying the shop as he sent a short response to the phone number on the message, ((Heavy fire inbound. Target?))

Yamasaki screeched to a halt in front of the shop a M249-G4 appearing from the passenger seat. As a red flower marred the tattoos on his chest the large man juddered. Then got out with a smile and put the bipod down to click off the safety. The red river draining back into his body through the skin. The hole in his back hurt like a son of a bitch but it only hurt. Rifle butt against the intact shoulder Yamasaki checked for targets.

What was it that drew Omar the One-Eye and his kinsmen into the Taiyou city? Armed with military issued weapons, dulled by the effect of the magic potion in their bloodsteams, fueled by hatred and the thought of revenge against an unknown, unseen enemy which may not have even truly existed, the Norse ghost warriors were as dangerous now as they ever were. "Rat-a-tat-tat-tat!!!" Shattered glass, flying papers and shards of concrete, many wooden splinters and chunks of drywall - the chop shop was being ripped to hell - and it wouldn't be long before the Vikings and the Yakuza would attract more attention. By now, calls had been made and text messages had been sent. There would be more gang members soon, and probably other curious individuals armed with weapons of their own. But nobody would come to rescue the vikings. Omar, Honz and Augee were completely isolated and it would take a small miracle for them to get out of this situation in one piece.

Honz moaned and growled lowly like a rabid bear, fumbling with his assault rifle as he dropped the empty magazine and reloaded his rifle, using the only other extra mag he had on him. "Blat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat!!!" Omar tried to cover him, jumping out from the cleaning closet and into the gunstorm. "Honz!!!" the one-eyed jarl roared as he slid across the tile floor behind a hollow wall, glass and paperwork being kicked aside as the jarl ducked down with his back against the wall, staring out of the open shattered glass window to the skyscraper buildings across the street. "Honz get dow-" POOM!!! the painted faced warrior was suddenly interrupted by a loud shotgun being fired. Honz paused for a moment, turning to look in the direction from which the shot was fired. The gunfire continued, but nobody in the shop could hear anything but a brief second of deafening silence followed by the beautiful sound of techno music. There before him was Takashi, pointing the shotgun directly at his midsection. Honz didn't realize it yet, but he had just been hit. Hundreds of 8mm tiny balls would rip through his shirtless skin, leaving tiny blood trailing holes in his flesh as he gazed into the eyes of his shooter, dropping his assault rifle on the floor.

Honz the Old was a large, muscular fellow with very tough skin, but the 8mm BB's tore through him like butter. He wouldn't bleed immediately however, much to Takashi's dismay. The magic shroom juice had thickened the Norseman's blood and made him impervious to fear or pain. Honz gritted his teeth and roared again loudly, grabbing the edge of the heavy wooden desk in front of him with one hand and pushing it effortlessly out of his way. He then stepped forward towards Takashi, reaching behind himself to draw forth the hand-held throwing axe from his belt. Honz growled lowly, raising his axe into the air while looking at Takashi with savage intentions. "Clack-clack, POOM!!!" the street racer cocked his shotgun and fired again as Honz stepped towards him. But this time the Norse warrior would be stopped in his tracks. Honz stumbled backwards, a melon-sized hole in his stomach causing the old man to lower his weapon. Honz looked down, sticking his fingers into his own stomach before rubbing the blood between his fingertips. Honz looked back up and staggered towards Takashi again, hatred in his eyes as he tried to raise his axe.

But it was no use. The old ghost warrior only managed to take one more step before he fell over, landing facedown on the welcome mat just feet away from where Takashi was standing. A pool of thick viking blood formed around Honz's motionless body, seeping into the blue carpet and running onto the lobby's tile floor. The old man had finally fulfilled his purpose in life, and as the old ghost warrior took his last breath, he looked over to see the fae spirits one last time, leading him home through the gateway to Valhalla, its golden stairway illuminated by the spiritual bright light that nobody else could see. The white blinding light grew brighter and brighter, until finally Honz exhaled slowly and died right there in Takashi's Auto Repair shop.

Bullets whizzed by, glass raining down all around them as Omar almost ducked so low he had to crawl to evade the falling shards and ricochets from the rounds and debris. Seeing the other bloody assault rifle laying on the lobby floor, he reached out to grab the strap and pulled Honz's weapon to him, quickly ducking back behind the wall just in time to dodge another line of shots from Takashi's pump-action shotgun and Suzuki's rapidfire SMG, the bullets ripping apart the wall as they whizzed past his head on the other side. "Ahh!!!!" Omar winced in pain as a bullet nearly clipped his ear. He quickly responded, turning the corner again and firing his rifle as Takashi and Suzuki tried to take a better position. "Rat-at-at-at-at-at!!!" the tungsten tipped bullets would fly towards Suzuki and chase just behind Takashi as he ran into the garage and ducked behind his vehicle, taking cover. Omar entered the garage as he was firing and quickly took up cover behind one of the Yakuza gang's stolen box-shaped SUV's, which had been lowered with smaller tires on it. Just then, the music speakers stopped as the song ended and the automatic CD player changed disks inside the vehicle. All fell eerily quiet for a moment as everyone stopped shooting.

Omar was now sweating profusely, the black painted Fehu symbol on his face now runny and faded, but this only helped his camouflage as he reloaded one rifle and dangled it around his arm by the strap while gripping the other rifle in both hands and chambering it. "Þú berjast eins og móðir mín. Hahaha, komdu þér kisa!" Omar laughed, taunting the gang members as everyone took a moment to reflect. Before this time, Augee had crept out of the office through a sidedoor and would suddenly jump out from beside the outside wall behind Suzuki, pointing his high-powered pistol at the back of Suzuki's head. There was a slight click, followed by Augee lowering the pistol and pressing it against the Taiyou gang member's spine. "Misstu það," he suggested calmly, waiting to see the Yakuza's reaction. Augee really wasn't trying to kill him, he just didn't want to be killed.

Omar would turn to look around the back side of the SUV, but Takashi would point his shotgun over the hood of another car and shoot at him, shattering the SUV's tail light as Omar was forced to duck back. "Opnaðu augun þín meira, þú munt sjá betur," the jarl chuckled, the smell of fuel still rising into his nostrils from the gas that had sprayed him down in the cave. He held his rifle tightly and leaned against the all black SUV, contemplating his next move. It seemed that the Viking and the Yakuza had gotten themselves into a Mexican standoff, Takashi with his shotgun behind one vehicle and Omar the One-Eye now dual weilding two assault rifles behind another vehicle. The garage itself was fairly large and contained other motorcycles, cars, trucks, vans and SUV's that had all been souped up and pimped out to fit the Yakuza's needs. But the shop was closed. There were no generators running, no engines firing, no fans or other noises to disturb their moment of silence. The only thing the jarl could hear now was his own heartbeat as he tried to think.

At that moment, the CD finished switching over and the Dubstep techno music kicked back on. Omar the One-Eye would turn around the side of the SUV again, holding both Seburo c26a assault rifles, one in each hand. "Tat-at-at-at-at-at-at!!!" the hot military issued bullets shredded the whole front of the Tokura N22, their tungsten tips ripping through glass and metal alike as Omar entered a berserker rage triggered by the music in the background. The Yakuza had called in backup to help them target the ghost warriors, but the flickering lights from the flaming gases expelled from the barrels of Omar's rifles as he walked around the side of the Tokura n22 made it obvious to anyone outside that the gunshots were coming from inside the garage. The vikings were oblivious to everyone else around them as Augee kept his focus and his pistol pointed at Takashi, dozens of people now taking to the streets and trying to run away. Only a few brave souls dared to stick around, as Augee waited for Suzuki to drop his weapon.

All Takashi the Mouse saw was tunnel vision, and a hulking viking warrior charging at him like a bear. It all seemed to happen in slow motion for the Yakuza Gangster, the warrior was charging at him, and adrenaline began to course through the smaller man's body, the fight or flight reflex taking hold, urging him to do something, that something was take down this viking as quickly as possible.

All Takashi could do was react, firing the first buckshot round did nothing it seemed, and his eyes widened to the point that Honz could see the whites of his eyes in his final moments. Another shell was chambered and released with a deafening sound, but Honz still stumbled towards him, even with a melon sized hole in his gut, blown entrails, and blood spilling all over the interior of the car shop. The stench of seared flesh, gunpowder, and concrete was overpowering, suffocating to Takashi, and he wouldn't know even a moment's reprieve as the Viking warrior collapsed.

He had to move back into cover though, and quickly. Taking a moment to engage Omar with a few shotgun blasts from where he was hiding, he growled as the Jarl managed to find cover behind an SUV, particularly one of the more heavily modified variants that he was planning on taking to a bank heist. Which meant it was armored, and would provide excellent cover.

Takashi had to consider his options, his mind racing to the beat of the techno music blaring from his car.

He moved to open fire, but was only greeted with a hail of bullets that whizzed by him, and pinged against the concrete, Takashi turned briefly towards one of the counters, then he looked towards the shotgun, which was empty. Fumbling with some shells, he moved to try and reload, sliding the shells one by one into the breach of the shotgun.

Suzuki on the other hand was caught almost by surprise at the sensation of a gun being pressed against the back of his head. The man tensed up, but slowly raised his hands, and dropped the high powered machine pistol, which clattered on the ground. The man was considering his next move, his senses feeling where the weapon was, where it would be, but for now he would comply, try to lure the strange man into a sense of ease. They looked like foreigners, so Suzuki tried his best to speak. "Police come soon." He said in the thickest, Taiyou accent, his eyes briefly going up to the shafts of light that peered through the decking of the city above them. No doubt the commotion would attract undue attention, but Suzuki paused for a moment, there were no sirens in the distance.

Instead there was the faint droning of a Kenbishi Nakazawa Military Transport Helicopter moving through the polluted slums of Sector One, it's lights flickering among the dingy skies. It was escorted by two wasp like Jigabachi attack helicopters.



Suzuki looked up briefly to see the approaching helicopters, but said nothing to the man holding him hostage, not that it would matter anyway, they had to get out of here though, before the Police got there.

In a moment of silence, Suzuki called out to his comrade. "Mausu! Keikan!" He screamed at the top of his lungs, and then he whipped around, sweeping a leg under him in rapid succession to knock his captor to the ground, if successful, the young Taiyou would take off in a full sprint, signalling to the approaching gangsters that the cops were on the way. Or he would be shot in the back, and left to die.

An outburst that Takashi had to react to swiftly, with shells loaded, the Yakuza fired several more shots at the entrenched Omar, several in rapid succession at the armored SUV as he slid towards one of the side doors, Takashi was going to leave these strange burglars to whatever fate the cops would mete out to them, but he had to save Suzuki, so his attention turned to the door, and with one more shot sprayed in Omar's direction, Takashi vaulted through the blasted out window.

Takashi made swift movements towards one of the nearby sewer drains, the chop shop was dead to him now.