>>6104869One man who didn't escape with the rest of the group is Heckler. He has the idea to grill the escaping assassin, Orochi, and maybe hype up his friend Mizuchi in the process.
However, Heckler's exhausted and wounded after a long battle. He's pursuing a man adept in stealth and urban traversal. And he's in enemy territory.
Unable to find his target, Heckler is just deciding to call off the hunt, when he hears a voice coming from behind him. "What do you want?"
Heckler slowly turns to see Orochi standing there, eyes hidden behind sunglasses. One hand rests casually at his side, the other holds his sheathed katana near the top, one thumb on the sword guard. He opens his mouth to respond, but Orochi raises his free hand. "Actually, never mind. I don't care."
A lightning-fast motion. The hilt of the sword drives forward, striking upwards with precision to jam into Heckler's solar plexus. His diaphragm paralyzed, Heckler coughs and wheezes, trying to catch his breath back and keep his lunch down at the same time. He manages to stay standing, but just barely, only staggering back a few steps. He tries to talk, but nothing's coming out.
In a flash of light, the sword is drawn. Heckler forces himself to dodge back, but Orochi wasn't actually aiming for him. The straps of both his gun and the duffel bag of cash are severed. Orochi kicks the gun away, the metal shape spinning into the shadows of the alleyway. He sheathes the sword, then bends over to pick up the bag. "Give Mizuchi a message for me. Tell him this is between me and him alone. Tell him that if he sends any more of his punk bitch friends after me, I won't just rob them. I'll kill them."
Taking the duffel bag, Orochi vanishes into the shadows. Heckler gasps as his lungs start functioning again with a sudden jolt; he draws his pistol and fires, aiming into the darkness, but hits nothing.
