A Scripta

((Forgive me, I forgot Kuro's full name))

A seemingly unarmed Suicidal Bombardier flipped a casino chip from one of their first jobs as he leaned against the wall waiting for Kuro. He saw Kuro come down the street, a man dressed in street clothes, which was unusual for him. "Bomber-san," he said and bowed slightly.

"Konnichiwa, Kuro-san," he replied, and bowed a little deeper.

The Japanese man smiled and bowed again. "Where do we go?"

"While we're the ones that are punctual, Tony's boys are late." A truck rumbled around the corner and slowed down approaching them. "Maybe not."

The truck stopped and the driver leaned out. "Yeah, I remember yous. Get in dah back."

Bomber nodded, undid the latch and peeked in. There were some boxes and pallets strewn about, so they found a place to sit. Another man came around, smiled wickedly at them, and shut the door. He heard the latch locking them in.

Bomber couldn't see in the dark - it wasn't hard for him to negotiate around by feel if he needed to. He also knew how to get out of one of these trucks by force if necessary, and he had the tools to do so.

"So how do you like working with Ryu?"

"It is prosperous," Kuro replied.

"What do you do?"

"Whatever he asks."

Bomber fell silent. Finally they stopped and Bomber heard the door unlock, the latch come up. The door opened, spilling bright light into the darkness, but both men rose fluidly as if the lighting hadn't changed. "Tony!" Bomber called, seeing the man in purple, "How the hell are ya?"

"Yeah, just get out."

Bomber followed Tony, not without glancing around. They were at a typical nondescript wharf, probably at the opposite end of Cap au Diable, because it looked out to an empty skyline. They headed down a small dock and into a freight boat.

"Oh, my manners. Meet my temporary assitant, Kuro."

"Greetings Tony-san," he said with a bow.

Tony looked the slight Japanese man over, probably assessing if he could beat him up. Kuro did nothing to betray his ability with open-hand fighting that he demonstrated constantly to Bomber. He only smiled at Tony, who looked a little disconcerted.

"Yeah, whatever. C'mon, I got shit to do today. I'm only here to get my money."

"You look pretty good for a man who had his stomach ripped out by flying glass."

"You know about that, huh?" Tony looked him over.

Bomber tapped his helmet. "I see everything."

Tony now looked like a man who wanted to get rid of them, and fast. He brought them to the hold and threw open the doors. Kuro took a deep breath and Bomber wondered what he smelled, because he couldn't smell anything due to the filtration of the helmet. He turned the corner and realized what it probably was.

A horse. A beautiful, proud, chestnut brown stallion, with a black mane and smoldering dark eyes. Bomber was stunned, absolutely stunned.

Kuro, however walked by it and made a precursory walk through the hold, giving each animal a glance. Bomber remained behind, staring at the animal. He reached out to the horse and patted its forehead. "What beautiful meat you are!" he whispered.

Kuro had gone back through a couple of other stalls while Bomber watched the horse. Then he called him over to one. Bomber absently took out another poker chip and walked it over his knuckles as he went over. This one was a lighter brown, almost rusty colored mare. "This one?"

Kuro nodded. Tony turned and yelled at the man standing at the door. "Brian!"

The man jogged down to them. "Oh, that's Fartherston. She ran maybe eight races, foaled two. One of her foals just fetched half a mil."

"How much?" asked Bomber of Tony.

"Half a mil."

"Screw you," Bomber snapped, "That's what her foal got, not her. Eight races, did she win any?" Brian shook his head. "Three hundred K."

"What the fuck you think I do, give these away? She's got time enough for a couple more foals. Four-fifty."

Kuro said quietly, "There was a difficult birth." He pointed to a scar along her stomach.

"Ha!" cried Bomber triumphantly. "Damaged goods! Three-fifty."

"I'm givin' it to you at that price."

"Probably not."

Tony waved his hand. "Get the papers."

Kuro stepped forward, "Bomber-san, there is a stallion that would be a perfect match."

Tony whirled on him, "Now you want two?"

"Let's see it."

"You said you had a stud and a stable -"

Bomber turned around so fast he caused a breeze and got his helmet right in Tony's face. "I'm not shopping at Macy's. This is fuckin' Wal-Mart." Tony's men stepped forward. Kuro stepped back, looking casual but probably in a ready stance.

"I'm doing you a favor getting these animals off your hands. Now if you're nice about it and not such a prick, we can have a consistent mutual relationship. But if you're going to act like you're doing me a fuckin' favor, flying glass can go a lot higher than your stomach. Kapeesh?" He stepped in closer and said quietly, "I can hit a pick-axe wielding miner at five hundred yards." Stepping back he said, without looking at Kuro, "Let's have a look at that stallion."

Tony regained his composure by saying, "Are you threatening me?"

"I don't threaten." He fell in next to Kuro. While Kuro showed him the stallion Brian returned with the papers. Bomber pulled out a huge stack of bills and counted out some to Brian. "Thirty-five ten-thousand notes."

Tony's eyes almost bugged out of his sockets. "I didn't know they made them that high."

"And you. In the Family." Bomber tsked. "Guess they don't trust you with the money, huh?" Bomber peeled off one bill and tucked it in his breastplate, then turned his back on Tony.

Bomber heard the snick of guns being drawn. "Bomber-san."

He turned around to see Tony and the men bearing guns on him. "I knew you were going to do that." He flicked what looked like the poker chip at them, and it exploded in mid-air. Body parts and dollar bills blew everywhere, hitting Kuro and Bomber, while Brian ducked.

"That cost me a pretty penny but damn it was worth it." He turned to Brian. "I need two bridles."

Brian plucked them from the stall nearby and fastened them onto the horse, then ran to get Fartherston. Bomber took a yellow card, peeled off a piece of paper covering an adhesive, then stuck it on the horse's neck. He pressed the red button. Then he handed the card to Kuro. "Press the red button. I'll meet you there."

He stuck the other card on Fartherston's neck and turned Brian. "Nice doing business with you." He pressed the button on the horse and tossed something at him. Brian flinched, but it looked like a poker chip. As Bombardier faded in a teleportation, he bent to pick it up. Bomber heard the explosion as the last sound before leaving that ship.

The horse stood in front of the door of the Tiki lounge, and Bomber absently grabbed the reins, pulling it forward. He saw Kuro standing off to the side, a crowd gathered around him and his horse. "Hey, Kuro, let's go."

"Hey, man," asked a man, "Where'd you get the horse?"

"What horse?"

"That one."

"What're you talking about?" Bombardier turned in Kuro's direction and made a twisting motion with his index finger against his temple.

"That horse."

"Look, I don't know what drugs you're on but I don't see a horse."

"It's right there!"

Bomber walked out the door, pulling the horse behind him. Kuro followed silently. At every inquiry, he kept asking, "What horse?" Finally they came out in Sharkhead. They walked around and ended up in an alley.

"Think you're all set?"

Kuro nodded and pulled out a cell phone. Bomber sat on a stoop and took off his helmet, letting the darkness wash over him blissfully. "I'm going to have to lay low with the Family for a little while."

"We can protect you, Bomber-san."

"I'll be fine." He smiled. "I hope he'll be happy with it."

"I am sure my master will be very pleased."

Soon enough, he heard a truck. Mickey, you're sending two animals to the glue factory.

"Shut up."

"Bomber-san?"

"I don't sleep. I bleed. Go, go see. I'm fine. I can fly a chopper, all I need is seven-thousand rotations."

He didn't hear the truck stop, the animals get aboard, and he didn't see the concerned look Kuro gave him as he climbed into the truck. As the truck drove away, people passed by without a second glance at the babbling blind man.