[Evelyn Winters]

Evelyn held the beer in her hand. She’d been staring at it for a while now, just staring. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. Well, she knew what to do with it, but she wasn’t sure how to get from point A to point B, because she was quite certain there was a point A.5 in between, so to speak.

She’d done this before. Plenty of times. With Axel. They’d always get something different, a glass, a martini, a bottle (like the one she had in her hands right now), just to see what would happen. Axel always described Evelyn as the scientist of the two, but when it came to stuff like this, he could be quite the scientist himself. Thing is, they would always drink it beforehand. But now...

“Oh just drink it.” The hallucination of her brother floated in besides her. Evelyn shifted her gaze toward him momentarily before turning it back to the bottle. Then she turned her head slightly to look at her target. A large and boisterous man, annoying, drunk, one she would love to get in a fight with, but she couldn’t fight him if she killed him or knocked him out, which would most certainly happen if she threw the bottle at his head while it was full. She looked back down at the bottle, making sure to keep her head low. Her hood was up and she didn’t want her face to attract any attention. Not yet, anyway, not before she could make her move.

The problem with drinking it, of course, was simple. Alcohol was a mind altering chemical. That in itself wasn’t the problem; despite her aversion to it since her brother’s death, she still had a fairly high alcohol resistance. The problem was the concept of a mind altering chemical, as a mind altering chemical is what killed her brother.

“Oh so what?” He quipped, resting his arm on the bar. “Just ‘cause I’m dead doesn’t mean you should avoid having fun.” He smiled at her, “I wouldn’t want you to.” Evelyn grunted in return.

She stared at the bottle for a moment longer, then without thinking popped off the cap and chugged the whole thing. She was aware she was getting some looks, but she ignored them. As soon as the bottle was empty, she wiped her mouth, regained her breath, and took off her hood, revealing her horribly mutilated face. Then she turned towards the man and aptly threw the bottle directly at his head. Shards of glass lodged itself into his skull. He howled in pain, and turned to see who’d thrown it. Evelyn stood up, her face making her stand out like a sore thumb. Although her expression was blank, inwardly, she was smirking. “That was me.” She stated in her trademark monotone.

“You little bitch!” He roared, his eye bleeding as he charged at her. Evelyn’s inward smirk turned into a grin. She curled her hands into fists, opting not to use knives for this encounter. God, she missed this.

[Sonnet Matsuda]

In the end everything collides

367

Evelyn Winters

Sonnet wanted to hit something. It wasn’t an altogether unusual mood for her, anyone who knew her would attest to how easy it was for her to lose her temper. This time though, she couldn’t hit the cause of her ill-temper, to do so would not only be gross insubordination, but a dishonour on herself and her family.

Kenshin was her Kobun, her superior. She was his Shateigashira. It was her job to advise him, and, ultimately, to follow his orders. She would always do so, but that didn’t mean she would always be happy about it. Tonight she had been passed over for Ando. It was to be expected, he was the Wakagashira, but recently Kenshin had been showing her naked favour. The task that had been entrusted to Ando would not only make him look good in Kenshin’s eyes, but also in the eyes of the Oyabun, the family boss. She must have done something to disappoint Kenshin recently, but she couldn’t think what. That was part of the reason for her frustration.

She had needed a drink, and she needed a fight, perhaps later she would head to one of the illegal rings run by the Yakuza. Most of the people there were bright enough not to challenge her, but there was always someone who didn’t know her or her reputation. Then she could imagine that it was Ando’s face that she was grinding into the floor as she did it.

She threw back another glass of whiskey, and heard the sound of shattering glass and a scream of pain behind her. Or she could just start here. She turned to see the man charging across the room towards the woman who had apparently thrown a beer bottle at him. Sonnet would have stepped in then and there, but she seemed able to handle herself, so she went after then man’s friends instead, two of whom were moving forward with violent intent. The half-empty bottle of whiskey smashed instantly against the skull of a man who was surprised to suddenly find a diminutive Japanese woman in front of him. The second bent over clutching his groin as she buried her foot between his legs.

My childhood spat back out the monster that you see

► kaigra ◄

[Evelyn Winters]

Evelyn stood still, waiting as the man charged at her and let him drunkenly throw the first punch. She easily ducked under it and delivered a swift and precise uppercut to his abdomen. He keeled over. She hummed in frustration. This was too easy. Her mistake. He must’ve been too drunk. ”Come on.” She goaded, not an iota of emotion in her voice. He growled, and swung another punch in her direction. While his punches were powerful, they were sloppy, and again, she easily dodged out of the way.

Where were his friends? They should be joining him by now. She looked over his shoulder just in time to see a glass smash over one of their heads. The woman then kicked the other man in the crotch. She hummed again. Low move, she thought as she dodged another punch. She tended to avoid a man’s natural weak spot when fighting unless the circumstances were particularly dire. Too easy, and typically ended the fight too quickly. Second, this was her brawl. While it wasn’t too uncommon for other people to join in on her bar fights, it was usually because they were drunk, but this woman wasn’t drunk, her moves were too precise. No, this was simply someone hijacking her fight.

She waited for the man to throw another punch so she could grab his arm and twist it. He yelled, but it was nothing compared to the sound he made when she smashed his arm against the side of the bar. There was a loud crack. Fracture in the radius, compound fracture in the ulna. The bone was sticking out of the skin. He he keeled over again and held his arm to his chest. Evelyn sighed, she was getting bored of this fight. She used her metal leg to deliver a roundhouse kick to the face, pushing glass further into his head and knocking him out.

She went over to his friends, simply strolled. She wasn’t quite getting the adrenaline high she was hoping for. It would’ve been better if it wasn’t for this woman. She kept her eye on her as she made her way towards them. She was small, but powerful, with specifically toned muscles. She was trained. Must’ve been for many years. Scar on her neck. She’d been in fights before, ones much more dangerous than this. Maybe she’d provide a much better opponent. Of course, she’d have to get rid of the other two first.

She grabbed a bottle of liquor, a full one this time with heavy glass, and slammed it against the first man’s head who, already half conscious, went down without much resistance. The other one was still clutching his crotch. Evelyn stood back. She wanted to see what this woman could do.

[Sonnet Matsuda]

In the end everything collides

364

Evelyn Winters

Sonnet was a little surprised to see the bottle of liquor smash into her first opponent’s head. It had been full, and with it’s thick glass it made a dull clonk noise on impact. The half-empty bottle of whiskey had already done quite some damage, the second blow from the other woman had finished the fight without argument. The man clutching his crotch looked up with fury in his eyes and started to climb to his feet. Sonnet barely gave him a second glance, raising her knee with startling speed. It hit his jaw with a crack and his head snapped back. He tottered on his knees for a moment before falling backwards almost cinematically.

Sonnet scowled. The men had been too drunk to put up a fight, although Sonnet rarely went looking for a particular challenge. She was a teleporter, that gave her an edge against nearly every opponent. No one could see an attack coming from every direction, and Sonnet could be in the one place you didn’t expect her to be. Even so, both men had gone down quickly, and her desire to hit something hadn’t been satisfied by the paltry challenge they had presented, if any.

She didn’t believe in drawing out a fight any longer than was necessary. She’d fought ESU and Heroes, and she usually came out on top. Not because she was particularly powerful, or a significantly better fighter, but because she had no qualms about finishing a fight quickly. She had her own sense of honour, but it didn’t extend to some archaic sense of fair play. You fought to win, not to honour a set of rules, she was Yakuza, not Samurai.

She stepped back from the unconscious men, and glared balefully about the bar, daring anyone else to step up and challenge her. Then she turned to the other woman, she was pale, unhealthily so and her face was scarred in a way that rivalled the sickly twisted strand of flesh about Sonnet’s throat. One eye seemed to droop, and there was a long line of scar tissue tracing over one cheek to the corner of her lips. Her voice was hoarse as she spoke, her tone clipped and mechanical in a way that betrayed English as her second language.

”Sorry, I just really wanted to hit something…”

My childhood spat back out the monster that you see

► kaigra ◄

[Evelyn Winters]

Hm. That was telling, but disappointingly swift. She was hoping for more of a game. More foreplay, so to speak. If a sober person gets into a bar fight just for fun, one would expect a bit more fun. Maybe it was her training. Some are taught to end a fight as quickly as possible. That’s never how she trained with Axel. Her fight was well done, admirable, but still disappointing.

“I thought it was kinda hot.” Axel grinned, appearing beside her, hands behind his head.

”Oh shut up.” Evelyn replied in Axevian, the twins’ secret language, the corner of her lip twitching into a smile for a split second. Axel laughed. ”You’re disgusting.”

The woman apologized. She must be aware of her invasive hijacking. Still, Evelyn couldn’t help but feel annoyed. ”That was my fight.” She said in complete monotone switching back to English, staring into the woman’s eyes, her face a blank slate. She took a step towards her. Japanese accent, very local, she must have grown up there. Her voice was impaired, the knife must’ve damaged her vocal cords. With a cut that deep, she must be lucky to be alive. Evelyn felt some amount of scorn towards her for letting someone get that close until she remembered her own body.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the bartender pulling out her phone, nervous, no doubt attempting to call the police. Without shifting her gaze, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small throwing knife. She deftly tossed it at the bartender. It lodged itself in her neck. She sputtered a bit as she clutched her neck and blood spilled out of her mouth before she collapsed on the ground. ”If anyone tries to call the police, I’ll do the same to you.” She said raising her voice slightly, but only slightly.

Then a thought entered her mind. An unpleasant one. What was this woman doing here? This trained, skilled fighter; what were the chances of running into her? What if- She felt his eyes looking at her, gray like storms, and that absolute shit-eating grin. She reached into her pocket and pulled out another knife, a much larger one, one made for hands-on cutting. She charged at the woman, moving to pin her against the wall and press the knife to her throat. ”What are you doing here? Did he send you?” She asked frantically as she quickly advanced towards her. While her voice still monotonous, one could detect a hint of anger creeping in her voice, and maybe even fear.

[Sonnet Matsuda]

In the end everything collides

370

Evelyn Winters

The woman muttered to herself, smiling. Though Sonnet didn't understand, or even recognise, the language she was speaking, it sounded as though she was talking to someone. An earpiece? A wire? Surely she wouldn't be so blatant about it if she were wearing such a thing. Perhaps she really was talking to herself.

Her suspicions were confirmed, at least a little as the woman produced a knife. Sonnet stepped back, automatically moving into a defensive stance. It wouldn't matter, the moment the knife was pointed in her direction she could disappear from that space as the knife passed through it. The blade didn't come near her however, hitting the girl behind the bar in the neck. She went down like a puppet with its strings cut.

Now Sonnet wasn't about to call the Police, but if someone had it wouldn't have bothered her. It was awfully hard to imprison someone who could step across hundreds of miles in the blink of an eye. Even if she hadn't, there were enough Police on the payroll for her to easily walkout without a mark on her record. At least it would have been until this woman turned an assault charge into a murder.

Sonnet's eyes had widened slightly as the other woman casually murdered an innocent bystander. She would never pretend to be a good person, but she killed when she had to, not on a whim. This woman was dangerous, and clearly unstable.

She was about to speak when the other woman moved faster, slamming her back against the wall with enough force to make her wince and pressing the blade against her throat. Or at least she would have pressed the blade against her throat had it still been there. With a sound like a faint inhalation Sonnet had vanished, she reappeared behind the other woman and spun to push her forearm against her back and shove her into the wall.

"I was drinking. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

She wondered for a moment if the woman had recognised her as a member of the Yakuza. Was she an opponent of Kenshin's? Even if she was, Sonnet was here precisely because her boss had not sent her anywhere.

My childhood spat back out the monster that you see

► kaigra ◄

[Evelyn Winters]

Shit. She was one of them. Evelyn hated metahumans for altogether petty reasons. Before the Event, as people seemed to be calling it, she and Axel were special. They were extraordinary. They were the closest one could come to having powers that the world, as it was, would ever know. But now, any asshole with a bit of luck could be “special.” It made her feel insignificant. Still, she told herself, the others weren’t truly special. She and Axel were born this way. They were one of a kind (two of a kind). No one else in the world was special like them. The others were all just lucky.

It also gave her a very unpleasant thought. Was he recruiting metahumans now? He must be. They would be highly desirable in his business. Especially after she had taken out so many of them, he must be bulking up on security. And then there was that other creeping thought that had been occasionally peaking its ugly head into her mind. What if he was a metahuman now? God, she really didn’t want to think about that.

Evelyn’s muscles tensed when she felt the woman’s hands grab her arm and push it against her back. Her mind went blank. All she could feel was his hand on her arm, his hand squeezing into her flesh, knife ready, blowtorch at had. She let out a primal growl, her constant stoic face twisting into something angry and animalistic.

She took her metal leg, heavier than the one made of flesh and bone, and slammed it down in the woman’s foot, attempting to break some bones. Then she unsheathed the knives on the metallic fingers of the arm pressed against her back, and pushed off the wall with her other hand, ramming herself backwards, attempting to impale the woman with her thin but long and razor-sharp blades.

[Sonnet Matsuda]

In the end everything collides

253

Evelyn Winters

Sonnet hadn't expected a reaction of such speed, or such ferocity. The foot that came down on hers was heavy, far heavier than it should have been and surely propelled with more power than the woman should have been able to muster. She grunted in pain and tried to pull away, but the woman was grinding her foot into the floor. It was lucky that the boots Sonnet wore were so heavy.

She succeeded in freeing her foot, just in time to stumble back and raise a hand to ward off the woman's attempted assault. There was a sharp pain across the edge of her palm, as she deflected the assault, to add to the pain in her foot. Her eyes widened as she realised that the woman had blades extending from her ring and middle finger. There was a strange metallic, artificial quality to the fingers themselves.

Was the woman a metahuman herself? Either that or they were the strangest prosthetics Sonnet had ever seen.

Sonnet was favouring her right foot, clearly the strange woman's attack had done some damage. The pain in her hand had dulled to a cold ache, and she could feel the warmth of the blood dripping down her fingers. She didn't glance at it, knowing that the take her eyes off this other woman was to risk yet another assault. She took a step back, whirling about as though to run…

And reappeared with her elbow raised to strike the side of Evelyn's head with vicious force…

My childhood spat back out the monster that you see

► kaigra ◄

[Evelyn Winters]

She felt an immense amount of satisfaction as her foot landed on the woman’s, if only she had nerves in her leg so she could feel the impact. She would smile if she weren’t so angry. She managed to get her foot free just as Evelyn launched herself backwards, and again, a wave of satisfaction hit her has her blades sunk into flesh. She couldn’t feel it, but she was well acquainted with the sound.

The woman turned to run, and she poised to follow. Her heart was pounding, and despite her little paranoia fit, this was it, this was the fight she was looking for. Her anger melted. The fight was on. Before she could celebrate too much, she felt a sudden blow to the side of her head, she had to brace herself against the wall to avoid falling. The vision in her eye went blurry briefly, but quickly recovered. ”Why didn’t we train to fight people with superpowers?” She asked Axel in Axevian, monotone and blank expression returned.

Axel laughed. “Hey, if we could’ve found people with superpowers when we were younger, don’t you think we’d go and fight them immediately?” He replied. “Besides, you’re always looking for a challenge. Well, here you go.”

He was right. Here she was, the perfect challenge. A metahuman. A chance to prove that she was innately better than her, than all of them. She mentally flipped through the knives stored in her leg, settling on a curved combat knife, and tossed the blade in her left hand to her right so she could reach into her pocket and pull out the new one. Swiftly turning towards the woman, she used her momentum to try to slice open her stomach with the curved blade while burying her other knife into her shoulder.

[Sonnet Matsuda]

In the end everything collides

467

Evelyn Winters

The woman was fast, she muttered something in that strange language, then somehow produced yet another knife from her pocket and spun with almost blinding speed. It was only a lifetime of training that kept Sonnet in one piece. She instinctively stepped in close, throwing up a hand to chop it viciously against the inside of her opponent's wrist. At the very least it would stop the blade from catching her in the shoulder, but if it went as intended it would knock the blade from her fingers.

It turned out that stepping into the blow had been fortunate as she felt the heavy blow of the hilt of the second knife in her side. She stumbled sideways, winded but twisting her wrist to catch the other woman's arm by her shoulder. Her foot was injured, so she didn't have the power she would need to pull this off, but unlike a normal human, Sonnet could cheat.

She flung herself further to the side, away from the curved blade that was no doubt seeking her flesh again. The effect was of an aerial, Sonnet using her momentum and weight to attempt to pull her opponent over or twist her arm viciously. The moment her own feet were about to slam sideways into the floor she teleported, repositioning her self a foot higher in the air and six feet backwards. With the extra height she landed more ably, though she still staggered a little, wincing as she put weight once more on her injured foot.

She was about to pull her gun out when she heard a slow round of applause. Incredulous, she couldn't help but look in the direction of the sound.

There was a man by the door, hands extended before him and a broad smile on his face. He was the man who had clapped. His teeth were extremely white, made even more so by their contrast against his skin, which was so dark as to be actually black. He was well dressed, in what looked like an expensive silk shirt, and loose fitting, but sharply pressed slacks. His shoes were so polished they gleamed even in the dim light of the bar, and there was a chunky silver watch on the wrist of his right arm.

Sonnet had adjusted her stance now so that she could watch both the violent knife wielding woman, and this apparent appreciative spectator.

"Very good, I haven't seen something that entertaining since Grand Central."

The man's smile hadn't faded, but he didn't move from where he was stood. Instead he dropped his hands and began to roll up the sleeves of his shirt. He didn't roughly push them up his forearms, instead unbuttoning each sleeve in turn and carefully folding the cuffs up until his forearms were mostly bare.

My childhood spat back out the monster that you see

► kaigra ◄

[Evelyn Winters]

Knives were Evelyn’s passion. Well, she had many passions, but knives were the culmination of her various intense interests. Danger, obviously; engineering, while blades and hilts may seem simple, there is an art to their combination; deduction, to effectively throw and/or wield a knife, you must take into account the wind, the environment, the opponent's weak points, etc.; challenge, to be brandishing a knife over a gun demonstrates that you have skill and requires much more thought and maneuvering to effectively incapacitate your target than a firearm; and finally, power, to feel a blade sink into someone’s flesh, to drain the blood from their body, to end a life, is the most satisfying feeling in the world, to know completely and fully that you are better than them, that you have defeated them.

Evelyn had been using knives for a very long time.

Thus, when the woman attempted to block her strike to her shoulder, Evelyn was prepared. She could gage this woman’s strength by the mass of her muscles, she could guess how fast she might move. She couldn’t gage her reflexes, but she assumed with the amount of training she’d had they’d be fairly sharp, so when her hand hit her wrist, she simply repositioned her knife and aimed to sink it into the back of her hand. Although she was disappointed the woman had only been hit with the hilt and not the blade itself, seeing blood pouring from both her hands would somewhat make up for it.

Her hopes were dashed when the woman grabbed her arm and twisted it. This was no problem, she and Axel had practiced this move a thousand times. In fact, being the female of the two, with smaller stature and lesser natural strength, this had been Evelyn’s go-to move when they were fighting. Axel quickly learn to adapt, leaping into the air to twist with it. The leap was unnecessary, he could’ve just twisted his body, but he was always the show-off. She had seen him do it enough that she could emulate it with little effort. She leapt a full three-sixty, twisting tightly in the air before landing deftly on her feet. She considered it a small victory, but nothing compared to the defeat of a blood-less blade. She was even more disappointed when she saw the woman had teleported a good six feet away from her (although felt some small satisfaction when she winced, landing on her injured foot). She didn’t like these new rules, these metahumans, she hadn’t quite adapted, and she hated that, she hated that she hadn’t caught up yet, but she would, and she would soon.

She was about to make her next move when she heard a loud applause. She smirked inwardly as the woman’s attention was diverted. This was the perfect opportunity. Still, she had to address this mysterious spectator, analyze him, provoke him, see what she could deduce. She could multitask. ”You want to join?" she asked the man as she unleashed the blade from her foot and ran at the woman full force before making a leaping kick, aiming to jam her blade into the woman's knee.

Suddenly, she was blasted backwards by huge, concentrated gust of wind. Briefly, the sleeves of her jacket were blown back as well as the legs of her pants, revealing the numerous, twisted scars covering her skin and the metal that used to be her leg. He clicked his tongue as she landed on her bottom, her back slamming into the wall. “Boy, he really did a number on you, didn’t he?” Her fingers, at least those that remained, grew cold, her face grew numb, but her expression didn’t move. “And they were right, your face didn’t move, you didn’t even flinch, impressive.”

Mind blank, she reached into her pocket, pulled out a throwing knife, and threw it at the man. With what must’ve been superhuman reflexes, he conjured another gust of wind to redirect the knife towards the woman.

“I fucking hate metahumans.” Axel seethed, with anger in his voice she’d only heard a scare few times before.

Evelyn would have to agree.

[Sonnet Matsuda]

In the end everything collides

703

Evelyn Winters

Sonnet turned her gaze back when she heard the other woman begin to move. She launched herself into a leaping kick, which against someone who could occupy an entirely different point of space in a heartbeat was a foolish endeavour. She would have vanished a fraction of a second later, but a tremendous rush of wind blew her opponent away from her. She saw her sleeves and trouser legs blown up by the blast, revealing more scars on her arms and legs…

Make that leg. That explained the weight and power that she had demonstrated when she'd tried to break Sonnet's foot, and perhaps it had something to do with the apparently endless supply of knives she seemed to be able to produce from her pocket. She had been picked up by some sort of attack from the dark skinned stranger.

Sonnet had barely been ruffled. It was a staggering display of control.

The man had barely moved, he hadn't even taken a step forward, and yet with a bare flick of his apparently impressive power, he had flung the woman that had so diligently been trying to kill Sonnet, across the room. The smile on his face hadn't faltered, and it didn't as his target flung a knife in his direction. Sonnet expected him to step aside, make some move to avoid the projectile. He just raised an eyebrow, a moment later the blade had changed direction and Sonnet's eyes widened as she realised it had been hurled towards her. She flung herself to the side, feeling the blade slice through her sleeve and draw a thin line across her arm.

She clattered to the ground with a grunt, then rolled over, putting herself behind the corner of the bar. She scrambled to put herself upright, crouching out of sight and putting her back against the thick wood of the bar. She could see the scarred woman pressed against the wall now, and she took the brief respite as an opportunity to pull out her gun. This man was beyond dangerous. Sonnet had fought metahumans before. She'd even gone up against some of the Heroes of New York, putting one in the hospital, although she'd met her match in Tank.

He could stop knives, but could wind stop bullets?

She was willing to bet that it couldn't. She stood up so that she could see over the bar, levelling her pistol and sending three bullets in his direction. Before she'd even squeezed the trigger, the wind had picked up again and a table had been flung in her direction, all three bullets sank into the wood. And she ducked down again as the heavy object clattered against the bar. So maybe he couldn't stop bullets directly, not that it really helped her much.

"My problem is not with you Yakuza. Now leave before I am forced to do something you will regret."

There was a noise like the intake of breath, then a faint pop as Sonnet vanished from behind the bar and reappeared behind the man. He didn't even turn to look at her but the wind that hit her took her off her feet.

It was only her quick reactions that kept her from going through the window, though it shattered from the blast as she disappeared once again.

---

Sonnet reappeared in a dirty, concrete room with as stack of mattresses. She hit them at the side with an audible thump, feeling winded even with the cushioning against the impact. She kept a few rooms like this for somewhere to jump if she needed to escape without going home. She was glad she'd had the foresight to equip at least one with a stash of mattresses. She'd planned it in case she'd had to throw someone off a building, but it seemed to have been effective for this as well.

It took her a moment to get her breath back, but once she had she focused and forced herself through space, back to the bar, crouching behind the heavy wooden bartop next to the cooling body of the barmaid. She could hear the man talking again, his voice deep, mellifluous, as though all of this was merely idle entertainment for him.a

My childhood spat back out the monster that you see

► kaigra ◄

[Evelyn Winters]

There was a very important question Evelyn had to ask herself. Why wasn’t she dead yet? If he wanted, this man could’ve killed her in an instant. So why hadn’t he? Dark skin. Glasgowman’s gang was white. Not that that was his fault, according to him, “people just tend ta keep to their own in that regard.” Although she doubted the philosophy of the other gang members was so neutral when it came to race. So he must be hired help. Direct hired help, from the man himself. She’d always thought he’d try to kill her if he found the chance. She didn’t think, or at least didn’t like to think, that he’d want her back. The thought made her muscles tense, but she didn’t show an ounce of distress on her face. She never would, not for him.

She leapt to her feet before almost falling down again. She pressed her hand to the back of her head. It came back wet. Blood. She felt dizzy, there were black dots at the edge of her vision. She stomped her foot, willing herself into consciousness. She focused on her environment, forcing herself into reality

So she was Yakuza. That made sense. The training, the knack for violence. Not an assumption she would leap to, but a piece that fit the puzzle.

He sensed her appearance behind him without her even making a noise. His powers were wind based, maybe he could sense differences in air pressure or density. If he could manipulate wind, he would have to, making it extremely difficult to perform a surprise attack.

Evelyn saw the woman disappear before hitting the window, then the top of her head appear behind the bar a few seconds later. She must’ve gone somewhere. And she returned. What stakes did she have in this fight? Whatever, no time to look a gift horse in the mouth.

If the man could sense everything around him, then it would have to be the not-so-simple task of diverting his attention. Enough that one or both of them could get the jump on him. And so far he’d demonstrated that he could only control one gust of wind at a time. She had a plan, but first, a test. She took at defensive stance, knives in each hand, and stared the man down intensely.

He grinned, “Come on. Let’s not make this any harder than it has to be.”

She heard Axel dramatically yawn beside her, “Boo! So cliche.” His words made her smirk inwardly, instilling her with confidence..

“Get ready.” She said in Japanese. The man frowned. Good, so he couldn’t understand the language. They could coordinate. And whether she liked it or not they would have to. At least for her sake. “As soon as I run, appear close behind him and shoot him.” She commanded in Japanese, quickly reaching into her pocket to exchange the blade in her left hand for a more effective throwing knife. “Nonlethally disable him.” She added before she charged at the man, blades ready, looking as if she intended to stab him. As soon as she felt the air pressure change, she tossed the throwing knife in his direction. She was promptly slammed into a table, her ribs getting the brunt of the force, the wind knocked out of her. As expected, another gust of wind quickly blew the knife in a wildly different direction, much less directed and organized than his previous misdirection. He was getting flustered. The knife had thrown him off, diverting all his attention towards it. She just hoped the other woman would be smart enough to follow her directions.

[Sonnet Matsuda]

In the end everything collides

321

Evelyn Winters

Sonnet started at the sound of her native language. But it was coming from the woman who had been trying to kill her. She railed against the idea of someone telling her what to do. Especially someone outside of the Yakuza, but she'd come back here. This man had told her to get out of here after trying to kill her. She could quite happily sit back and let the man kill the woman, but then she doubted she could take him on so easily, and she wasn't simply going to run away.

Maybe the woman had the right idea. Attacking the man on two fronts, at this point they'd been almost taking it in turn, and it hadn't gotten them anywhere, the man had seen them coming every time and simply blown them away like leaves in the wind. This woman might be trying to order her about, but it didn't mean that she was wrong.

There was the sound of running feet, and Sonnet jumped, appearing with a sound like an exhalation behind the man. The noise was completely overpowered by the sound of the other woman being flung backwards. The man started to turn, but Sonnet had already raised her gun and put a bullet into his leg. He dropped to one knee and thrust out a hand, the blast of roiling wind that came from it tearing apart the furniture that stood where Sonnet had once been.

She appeared beside him with her pistol raised, bringing the butt of the weapon down against the side of his face. His head snapped around, but the ensuing blast of air took her off her feet, throwing her over the bar and into the rack of bottles behind it. The man clambered to his feet, still conscious, but clearly groggy from the attack. There was blood flowing from a cut on his brow, and his slacks were dark with blood.

My childhood spat back out the monster that you see

► kaigra ◄

[Evelyn Winters]

Evelyn propped herself up on the table. She had most certainly bruised a rib, perhaps fractured one, but all she could feel was the adrenaline pumping through her veins. The woman had followed her directions. She’d even been kind enough to keep him alive. The moment he blew the woman against the racks, she pulled out her smallest throwing knife and tossed it in his direction. It sliced through the air faster than he could react and lodged itself directly into his spine. He went down like a puppet with its strings cut. She grinned inwardly and started marching towards him. His eyes followed her. He was paralyzed from the neck down. She felt a gust of wind try to blow her back, and although she had to grab on to one of the tables to stay standing, overall, she easily held her ground. The blow to the head must’ve weakened him. She imagined the use of his abilities would require a great deal of concentration. His consciousness must be incapacitated.

She started walking again and felt another gust of wind, even weaker, it barely gave her pause. Still, she took out one of her heavier knives and lobbed it towards his head. The hilt nailed him square in the brow. His eyes briefly fluttered shut before opening again. She didn’t want him unconscious. No, she had questions. That, and some serious emotions to take out on someone.

She made her way to him and knelt over him, straddling him, one leg on each side of his hefty body. He grit his teeth, and she felt a slight breeze blow her hair back, revealing her nub of an ear, but doing little else. In front of her, she saw her brother cackling maniacally. If she could, she would’ve joined him. Instead, she remained blank-faced, and repositioned his head so it was facing upwards at her. She brought her face uncomfortably close to his. ”Hello,” she said, emotionless. ”Before we start, you should know, you are paralyzed from the neck down. That does not mean you can’t feel pain.” She jammed the knife into his arm. He winced, and sucked in a sharp intake of air. ”I have questions, you have answers. The faster you answer, the quicker your death. The slower you answer, well, you get the picture.” She took the knife out and jammed it into his arm again.

He laughed, slowly and painfully, almost wheezing. “Have you looked in the mirror recently? I’m sorry, but I know better than to upset my employer.”

She brought her face even closer to his. “Him? He was an amateur.” She put the knife back into her leg and grabbed the heavier one she’d thrown at him earlier. ”See this? She brandished the blade in front of his face. ”I created it myself. Welded the metal, fashioned the hilt.” She grabbed his index finger and placed in flat on the ground. She felt a desperate gust of wind, a bit stronger than this time, but did little other than rustle her hair. ”I created it specifically to cut through bone.” She brought the blade down, and sliced off the tip of his finger. That produced a hefty yell. She picked up the tip of his finger and brandished it in front of his face. ”See, like butter.” She said before flicking the bit of flesh away. ”I can dice your fingers up like vegetables, and I will. Unless you give me the answers that I want. So what will it be? A fast death, or a slow one?” His eyes were wide. He was breathing fast. He seemed to be thinking. She grabbed another one of his fingers.

“Alright! Alright.” He said quickly. “What do you want to know?”

She smirked inwardly. ”Where is he?”

“I don’t know.”

She looked into his eyes, felt his pulse. He wasn’t lying. ”Where did you meet?”

”Central Park.”

Of course, someplace public. Someplace thousands of people go each day, where there’d be no clues left behind to follow. ”Who do you work for?”

“I’m freelance. I work for whoever hires me.”

”What did he want with me?”

“He wanted you alive. That’s all I know.”

”What’s his name?”

“I don’t know. They never told me. He was just...an employer.”

She felt another gust of wind, even stronger, it almost blew her back. She took a smaller knife out of her pocket and slid it directly above is right eye between the eyeball and the skull hitting the trigeminal nerve, distracting him with pain. He screamed much louder this time and didn’t stop until she pulled the knife out. She placed it back in her leg.

”How did he find you?”

He took a few moments to catch his breath. “Reputation.” He finally said.

”How did he contact you?”

“I have informants...middlemen.” He strained. “They contact them to get to me.”

”Which of these middlemen came to you about working for him?” He paused for a second, hesitant to answer. She grabbed his thumb.

“Andrew!” He blurted out. “Andrew Jacobs. He lives in Avalon West Chelsea...apartment 282 on 11th Avenue.”

A lead. Finally. She smiled inwardly and looked up at her brother. ”Is that all?” She asked him in Axevian.

He stood, scratching his chin, foot tapping, “I think there’s something else…”

There was. She could feel it on the tip of her brain. Some question left unanswered. She played back the whole interaction in her head before landing on something he said. Of course. She looked back down towards him. ”Earlier you said ‘they’. You said ‘they were right.’ Who are ‘they?’”

He laughed again, even more strained. “You think it ends with him? No...One of her representatives was there.”

”Who?”

“You really don’t know.” His lips twitched up into a smile. “Peterson. Or, that’s what she goes by. It seems she’s...taken an interest in you.”

Peterson. She’d never heard that name. Not in any way significant. But it was a lead. ”Alright, I think that’s it.” She said.

“Okay.” He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and relaxed the muscles in his face, ready for death. She took his fingers and layed them out flat. “Wait.” He said, panicked, “What are you doing?”

As previously stated, Evelyn had some serious emotions to take out on someone. She’d just been confronted with her greatest fear and almost lost. She was enraged, she was furious, and even worse, she was scared. She stared at the man before her and imagined it was him. His long, skinny fingers that she was chopping up, his pale, tattooed skin that she was carving into, his pointy nose that she was slicing off, his stormy gray eyes that she was stabbing out, his shit-eating grin finally turned into a look of horror and pain and suffering. His body that finally went limp after what could’ve been minutes or hours or days of intense torture. He that was finally defeated, and not a hired lacky.

Finally, she stood up over the mutilated piece of meat that used to be a man and took a deep breath. Her jacket was heavy, sticky with blood, so she took it off, revealing a black tank top underneath and a myriad of deep, twisted, disfiguring scars. She flung it over her shoulder and grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the bar, one of the few that still remained, and poured herself a drink, her blood-stained hands leaving a mark on the glass. ”Want one?" She asked the woman without even bothering to check if she was still there. The whole bar was empty, everyone having left long ago. The place was destroyed, bottles smashed, chairs and tables broken and overturned. Evelyn, with her disfigured body, face and hands covered in blood, felt like she fit right in. She took a swig from the glass. ”It’ll help with the pain.”