NINETEEN

Kenji froze as the first gunshot ripped across the club with a deafening roar, draining out Sakura’s screams from right beside him. It was a moment that seemed to play out in slow motion, a series of flashing images; heads turned, lights flashed, drinks spilt to the floor and people started screaming out in panic.

Suddenly Kenji felt the warm spray of blood across his face. For a second he just stood there in shock, thinking he was hit, but then he realised that the blood wasn’t actually his own; the front of Kirby Kosta’s chest and elbow had just exploded all over him, the Haitian’s eyes bulging wide in shock as his weapon flew from his hands. The Haitian spun around and then fell to the floor, his body crashing through the legs of a rickety table beside him.

“Fuck me…” Kenji breathed.

A split second later another gunshot sounded and Kosta’s accomplice had also been struck. He took a bullet through the side of the neck, his eyes jarring wide in surprise as his entire throat was ripped open. Then a second shot pounded into his chest and his body was thrown over the top of the bar counter in a rain of shattering beer glasses.

Kenji turned and looked around frantically, searching for the source of the shots that had just saved his life.

“Soldiers of Loa Lacroix!” A chilling cry rang out across the club. “I’ve come for you, you sons of bitches!”

The shooter was standing there tall amongst the panicking crowd, the smoking barrel of his sawn-off shotgun extended out in his right hand, and a Magnum revolver hanging loosely at his side in his left.

It was Fido; the bringer of vigilante justice, the nemesis of Loa Lacroix and his posse.

…

Toto turned away from his two targets just as he was pulling the trigger, distracted by Fido’s shots. At the same time Ryu, who had just opened his eyes and looked around as the gunfire had sounded, noticed the big Haitian standing there with his weapon up and pointed his way.

“Meyoko, get down!” he called out as he pulled Meyoko to the floor alongside him, escaping the Haitian’s line of sight. The incoming barrage of bullets whizzed just inches over their heads, striking down a trio of female dancers in the crowd behind them.

“Slippery kochon fuckers!” Toto grunted in frustration, bringing his full attention back to his two escaping targets. “Think you can escape me?!” He began pushing his way through the screaming crowd in search of a clear shot, firing even though he couldn’t get one.

…

Meanwhile, Sierra Rico had quickly grabbed hold of Tara and pulled her down to the floor as bullets began flying through the air all around the club, the discharges drowning out the thumping beat of dance music.

Sierra had seen the two dreadlocked gunmen go down across the bar in a hail of bullets, so he focussed his attention instead on another tar-skinned demon, who had just maliciously started shooting up people on the dance floor. His eyes ignited with anger, watching on as the bodies of the innocent began piling up under the savage’s barrage of gunfire.

During his time working for Chilavert, Sierra had witnessed more senseless carnage that he could sanely stand. He had decided long ago that he would no longer just sit back and watch such sadistic monsters have their fun, preying like vultures on the innocent, the weak and the helpless. He knew he had to do something to stop the slaughter.

Sierra glanced across the bar to his three friends. Luckily, all of them had ducked for cover under their table as soon as the shooting started. They were safe for now, as were Tara and himself in their current position. But none of them would be going anywhere as long as the bullets were still flying around overhead.

“What’s happening?” Tara cried out over the roar of nearby shotgun blasts. Her body was shaking, tears of panic flowing from her eyes, causing her mascara to run.

“Just wait here for me and keep your head down,” Sierra whispered to her. “You’ll be safe, I promise.” Then he drew his Colt Peacemaker from under his coat.

“Who the hell are you, Sierra?” Tara’s eyes widened as she saw the weapon.

“Trust me,” Sierra said. Then he ran off towards the dance floor, straight into the storm of blood and bullets.

…

The entire club was one big mass of hysteria now; people were running, shoving each other over and trampling those at their feet.

Fido quickly reloaded his spent shotgun shells and weaved his way through the fleeing crowd. The two Haitians with shotguns, both of whom had been stationed at the club’s main exits, had now left their posts to give chase to him. The nightclub’s very foundations seemed to rock as their two 12-gauge shotguns roared out like savage beasts, cutting down unlucky bystanders all around Fido, shredding bodies and limbs apart like meat through a grinder.

....

Kenji rushed over to Sakura and threw his arms around her trembling body. “Sakura-dono,” he whispered. He pulled her down to the floor and held her head tightly against his chest. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Sakura only managed a whimper in response. Then, almost immediately after he had grabbed her, the two of them were suddenly swarmed by Kenji’s entourage of bodyguards.

“Come on, Kenji, we need to get you out of here, right-fucking-now” Daigoro said while the other wakacku went to work shielding them with their bodies.

“No,” Kenji said in defiance. “I’m not going anywhere without Ryu and Meyoko!”

Daigoro shook his head, trying to talk reason to him. “We’re all unarmed tonight, Kenji; we can’t protect you if we stay here!”

In response, Kenji reached in under his expensive goat and drew a 9mm Beretta M9 from a hidden shoulder holster he had there. “Rule number one of surviving a gunfight, Daigoro: always bring a fucking gun!”

…

Out across the bar from Kenji, Kirby Kosta groaned painfully and sat up from the splinter-strewn floor. The pain coming from his left shoulder and arm was immense; not even the copious amounts of cocaine he’d snorted earlier could dull the pain.

Grunting with furious determination, he reached into his inner coat pocket and drew a Browning .45. He figured it would do nicely. With its 14 round clip, high killing and penetration power, the Browning .45 was ideal for close quarters combat such as this.

Nobody be fucking with Loa Lacroix’s boys! he thought to himself. If I’m dying, I’m taking all you kochon yo down with me!

…

“Stay close, Meyoko!” Ryu whispered.

Meyoko was still frozen in a state of shock. He held her close to him as they scurried across the floor together, like mice fleeing the claws of a ravenous cat. Their Haitian hunter’s high calibre rounds chewed up the smooth wooden surface all around them both.

“You think you can be running from me?!” Toto laughed as his wild barrage ripped the legs and arms off of fleeing bystanders, leaving a trail of bloody carnage. He continued firing away after the fleeing pair, loving every second of it.

They reached the edge of the dance floor amidst a smokey mist of splinters and Ryu quickly pulled Meyoko along behind him, up the stairs of the club’s elevated DJ platform where he pushed her down to safety behind the DJ’s speaker equipment. No sooner had he done so, a stray bullet grazed across the top of Ryu’s shoulder, knocking him to the floor beside her.

“Two little kochon lovebirds, how lovely,” Toto beamed as he shoved in a fresh clip to his rifle and began firing away at the DJ set. “It be fitting that you two walk down the aisle to meet Baron Samedi together!” He had them both trapped now, and he knew it. His rounds ripped up the floor and the stereos, sending sparks and splinters flying everywhere, killing off the club’s music.

“Ryu…” Meyoko whimpered as she noticed Ryu lying there on the floor beside her.

“It’s fine, we’ll be okay,” Ryu winced through the sharp pain, rolling over onto his side to face her. “Come on, we need to keep moving!”

“Move to where? We’re trapped here. There’s no way out.”

Sparks were still raining down all over them in the dim light as their eyes met for the first time since their kiss. A moment of silence passed between them, their eyes doing all the talking for them. Deep down they both knew they had reached the end of their road.

“Come here,” Ryu reached out, holding onto her tightly as the howls of laughter from the Haitain gunman continued drawing nearer.

…

“Where you at, white boy?!” one of the shotgun-wielding Haitians called out as he and his partner forcefully pushed their way through the crowd after the fleeing Fido. “Come out and play with us!”

They had lost sight of him for a second amidst the sea of bodies; one moment their prey had been right there, no more than ten feet from them, but now he had suddenly vanished completely.

Finally the crowd started to dissipate and the two Haitians moved forward, their eyes scanning their quietening surroundings more carefully. They looked around, along the floor past all the lifeless bodies at their feet, in amongst the glossy green marble pillars, out in front of them to the splintered tables that had been knocked over by the fleeing crowd.

Nothing.

One of the Haitians stopped. He had noticed something on one of the corpses lying face-down on the floor; the man was wearing a brown leather coat, one just like Fido had been wearing before they’d lost sight of him.

The Haitian signalled over to his partner and they approached the body cautiously. Both of them fired off a shell of buckshot, severing the man's spinal column, just to make sure he was dead.

“Got ya, you Kochon fuck!”

But no sooner had they fired, suddenly another corpse sat up right behind them. It was Fido; he had put his jacket on a dead body to set up a trap for them, and now he took aim at the backs of his two hunters with his sawn-off shotgun.

Realising they had been tricked, the two Haitians spun around to shoot. But before they could, Fido’s sawn-off boomed twice in rapid succession. The first Haitian gunman’s head exploded into a million bloody fragments, his lifeless body slumping to the floor. The second one managed to get off a single shot as he was turning, but hit nothing but his own foot, and then the impact of Fido’s second blast tore open his upper chest and shoulder, almost severing his left arm. He spun around, his face smashing straight into a marble pillar behind him. He slowly slid down it, his teeth grinding and snapping off all the way to the floor.

…

“Get Sakura out of here, now!” Kenji shoved the wakacku away from him as they tried to assist him to his feet. “I’m fine!”

“Kenji…” Daigoro looked down at the weeping Sakura first, then across to each of his wakacku colleagues. Their fearless faces told him they were all ready for a fight.

At that moment a gunshot sounded across the bar and one of Kenji’s wakacku protectors was thrown to the floor.

“Shit,” Daigoro called out. “Everyone, get down!”

A second bullet came soaring through the small crowd then and grazed Kenji across the forearm, knocking his gun from his hands, sending it skidding away.

“Kenji!” Daigoro threw himself at Kenji, sheltering his boss’s body with his own.

“I’m gonna waste all of you fucking yellow kochon yo,” a voice cried out. “You all be fucked now!”

It was Kirby Kosta. The blond-dreadlocked Haitian was back on his feet now and had the eyes of Charles Manson as he marched towards them with his Browning .45 raised.

“Protect Kenji!” Daigoro cried out to the others.

The loyal street soldiers of the Kojima-gumi all hurried to get their bodies in between Kenji and the approaching gunman.

“You want to fuck with me?! Come get it!” Laughing, Kirby Kosta began pulling his trigger and the scrambling wakacku threw their bodies desperately into the path of his bullets. Eight rounds of Kosta’s clip were quickly expended, and two more wakacku soldiers were wiped off their feet. Now only three men remained standing between the mad Haitian killer and Kenji Kojima himself.

Nine, ten, eleven shots fired, and another wakacku was blown away.

The soft-spoken Hideo was next in line now. He made himself as large as a bear and lunged into the path of the Haitian’s barrage, shielding Kenji.

“Hideo, no!” Kenji cried out, all too late to stop the inevitable.

Three rounds thudded into Hideo’s chest, emptying the Haitian shooter’s clip, but still Hideo kept on moving forward. He dropped exhaustedly to his knees and then threw himself around Kosta’s legs, holding on to him and squeezing for all he was worth.

Tossing aside his spent sidearm, Kosta reached down into his coat and drew his killing knife, driving the blade once, twice, three times in under Hideo’s arm pit to free himself.

“Yellow kochon got heart,” Kosta chuckled, spitting a mouthful of saliva onto Hideo’s twitching corpse, “but now he’s got no soul!”

“You bastard!” Kenji screamed.

“All men die sometime,” the Haitian turned around and glared over Kenji and Daigoro. “And Baron Samedi says that your time is right now, Mr Kojima!”

“Murderer! You can’t have him!” Daigoro cried out, pushing Kenji aside and then charging at the knife-wielding Haitian killer.

“Come get it!” Kosta laughed. His first blow slashed across Daigoro’s raised fist, cutting his knuckles to the bone, parrying his punch to one side. Then his second blow sliced down the side Daigoro’s face, sending his body crashing over the top of a table.

“Such a pity.” The Haitian walked over and drove his knife down through the wounded wakacku’s spine, ending his life in an instant. “So many men willing to die for you, Mr Kojima.”

“No!” Kenji cringed. “Daigoro…”

“But now there’s nobody left for you to hide behind,” Kosta turned back to Kenji, his face contorted with a deranged smile. “Tell me, who’s going to be saving you now?”

…

“Ryu…” Meyoko whispered, “I’m scared.” The sadistic Haitian was so close to them now they could hear his heavy breathing, like that of a pervert at a peepshow.

Ryu bit down into his lip, overwhelmed by feelings of total and utter helplessness and the inevitability of what lay ahead. Closing his eyes, he clutched Meyoko tightly.

“Playtime’s over, little kochon yo,” the big Haitian called out as he tipped over the DJ set and all the equipment went crashing down, spilling off the platform edge. He pointed the long barrel of his AK-47 at Ryu. “You die first, kochon. Then me and your woman be getting to know each other a little better before she joins you.”

“Don’t worry, Meyoko,” Ryu said to her, his eyes remaining closed. “It’ll all be okay.”

“No,” Toto laughed. “It really won’t!”

And then a gunshot sounded.