Tainted Time

Sometimes death smelled like gunpowder. Sometimes it smelled like cake. Okay so that was only one time and a very strange one time. Jigen sniffed the air, a smile crawling over his face.


Sometimes life smelled like gunpowder too.


“Hell, the whole friggin’ world sometimes smells like gunpowder.” He rumbled aloud, pleased with himself. He had gotten into the hut with the supplies. Sure, he was bleeding like a drunk in a knife fight- Jigen paused for a moment in his packing to think about that mental choice of words.


“...maybe drinking before a gunfight isn’t a good idea either...” None of the injured around him tried to assure him it was alright, or even suggest he drink more. Seemed the few that were still with it enough to speak, knew better.


Chuckling anyway, he finished packing up the supplies. They had, by his count, about an hour and a half. His watch was worthless now, but it had done a damn fine job of stopping one of the many bullets fired at him. His wrist hurt like hell though.


Pushing out the busted door, the gunman whipped his head about at the sound of gunfire. The ground exploding in little puffs of dirt seemed to be a good indication of their target. Either they had horrible aim, or they were firing on the building just in hopes to hit him within it.


Disgust rose in his gullet as he realized that was it. Didn't they care some of their own was in there?


Not having the time to teach them the very, very painful lesson they deserved, Jigen made a crouched sprint to the tree line.


“There he is!”


“..fuuucckk..” Jigen heaved a long sigh and gave up on the stealth, opting instead for a full blown run through the woods. Bullets whistled past him, slamming into trees in a shower of splinters as he dodged and weaved through the once quiet forest.


Even if he managed to lose them, he knew he was playing Hansel and Gretel, the blood that was running nicely from his upper thigh and speckling the forest floor was as good as the kids pebbles to lead the way to their oh so quaint shack. Every step was akin to that mermaid chick's, feeling of knives in her newly formed feet...


“Why the hell am I thinking of friggin fairy tales?” That couldn't be a good sign. Maybe he had lost more blood then he thought. But it didn't matter. He could see the hovel up ahead.


Let Goemon hold them off long enough for him to stanch the blood a little and chug a glass of water, then back to fight the good fight.


Seemed he had lost them, if only for a moment. Good, that was what he needed.


The door slammed hard against the wall and shook the crappy castle to the point where he was worried for a moment it would fall in on its self. The damage from the cannon ball surely hadn't helped much.


“I got a fleet on my fucking ass...” he panted, dropping the bag to the floor, ignoring the worried look Goemon gave him. “Is the old man ready?”


“Yes, but...”


“Don't have time right now hon. Gotta get that damn doctor and get him started. We got about an hour to get that piece of shit out of him.”


Goemon tensed for a moment then nodded. The other news could wait. The sound of his thin blade pulling free seemed to fill the room.


“I shall greet the fleet then. You tend to your leg and then join me.”


Jigen returned the nod and without a word moved around him and to the only other room where the doctor was being held by one very angry inspector.


The swordsman’s eyes narrowed slightly as he let go of everything else before opening the front door. He could see them, moving a few hundred paces back in the woods. If they thought they were slipping through seamlessly, they were mistaken indeed.


He on the other hand, slid through the brush like he was born of it, as if he was part of it. The first few fell before their minds could even start to grasp what had happened, devoured by flashing arcs of metal.


The battle had begun.

.....

“Old man, you need to get out on that tabl-.” Jigen stopped short as he noticed the cop sitting in the corner, something in his arms. Dread swelled up like a beast of the deep, quickly swallowing him.


There was someone in his arms and they didn’t look too well. In fact-

“Pops, you didn't, did you?” If he did, he was doomed. There was nothing they could do to save him.


Zenigata stood, a sigh slipping from his lips as he turned around, still hidden by shadow. The form, he knew it, but...

“No, the coward is over there.” The older mans head jerked to the far corner where a quick glanced proved it true. Even in the less then half light, Jigen could see the doctor was cowering, terrified.


“He didn't even try. I wanted to kill him; I wanted to feel his neck crush under my fingers...”


He could understand why the doctor seemed scared shitless. The way the words fell toneless and mindless from the cop’s mouth made a shudder run through even him.


“He just let her die.” Zenigata said moved forward, Marge’s blond hair catching the limited light as the shadows parted more with each step.


“Holy fuck...” He wasn't even aware he had spoken aloud as all mystery lent by the darkened corner was destroyed as Zenigata walked into the middle of the room. He had seen some awful things in his time, but there was something about this that cut him to the quick.


It was hard to grasp for a moment that there could be that much blood in one person’s body to loose. Her shirt clung to her chest in testament to her last moments, the red caked and thick like drying finger paint.


It clung in flaking rivers along her lips and chin, allowing no mistakes to be made as to the origin of the blood that soaked her skin and clothing.


“She started coughing and couldn't stop. Then... then there was this awful sound and blood, it just kept coming...”


“There was nothing I could do; she was dead as soon as she left. Like I am...” the quiet voice floated from the far corner, panic infused and weak. “He'll kill me. He'll kill you, all of you.”


The gun almost appeared in Jigen’s hand, but was quietly slipped away as he noticed the expression flicker across Zenigata quiet face. He would let him handle it.


“We are running out of time Old Man.” The words were barely more then a whisper, but they filled the room as the limp form was laid carefully on the old straw bed.


Standing straight, Zenigata limped almost soundlessly towards the cowering man, a thin unacknowledged whimper of fear breaking the hush as the good doctor found himself pinned between the wall and the inspector.


“The difference is how we will die.” He said softly, dangerously.


“Y-you haven't s-seen him. You d-don't know what he is c-capable of!” He stuttered out, giving a high pitched squeak as the balled up fist just missed his face, slamming hard and without flinching into the rough wood behind him.


“Old Man, we got an hour.” He looked calm yet there was a thread of urgency to his voice. “Either we get this started now, or me and Goemon are going somewhere far far away.”


He nodded, giving the doctor a shove. Wordlessly they followed Jigen out to the table in the main room.


“Get it out as fast as you can, but do the close up right, got it?”


Hands trembling he picked up the needle, missing a few times before managing to get it filled from the vial.

“Shit, he is going to cut into my lung like that.” The cop grumbled as he removed his shirt. Tossing it aside, he climbed up on the table, the old wood protesting to his weight.


“He won't if he knows what’s good for him.” He sighed, scrubbing his hand with his face. Goemon would have to keep them busy on his own, He had somehow over looked one of them would need to be in here to make sure Dr. Dipshit didn't do something stupid.


“Here, I'll assist.” He took the needle from him and without a wasted motion injected Zenigata. “Don't just stand there like a deer in the headlights, get your god damn tools ready!”


Grumbling as the man jumped to action under the barked command, Jigen cast a shadowed eye to the front wall, as if his worry at the sounds of battle would allow him to see through the rotting wood. He sighed when it proved to not be the case.


“He's under now.” The Doctor said softly, his nerves slipping back into a stable state as he allowed himself to get absorbed in his work, setting up what he could. He was going to be without many of his tools. He would have to work fast to assure as little would go wrong. He had nothing to help the cop breathe. This wasn't going to be easy.


The scalpel slid seamlessly along the barely healed skin, red welling up behind it, as if it was a marker and not a razor sharp blade. Spreader forced into place, he cranked it wider under the hidden eyes of the gunman.

``


The blood was threading between his fingers and down his hand, staining his clothing. Taking a deep breath, Goemon pressed his head back against the tree, taking an odd strength from the sensation of the bark cutting into his scalp, even as the same bark on the other side was being shaved off by the bullets whizzing past it, seeking out the barely hidden prey.


It happened, it had to. Even he had to admit there was no such thing as the perfection some thought he sought. Shame it presented itself in such a form instead of a more pleasant one.


The normally blank features contorted in pain as he pushed off against the tree, judging the lost movement in his left shoulder as he stood.


Enough. That was all the answer he needed. Perhaps he could lead them away from the hut to keep them from getting into it and to the inspector and Jigen.


Taking a deep breath he moved from behind the tree.


``

It wasn't... it wasn't here.


Lupin sat in stunned silence in front of the small and pointedly empty shelf. It was only a discrepancy in the thickness of the dust, in the shape of the statues base that told him it had been there at all.


His hand throbbed in time with his heart, which was trying to decide between speeding up in panic or by slowing to an almost stop in despair.


Right now it was swaying between both extremes, making him feel faint. Though it could have been the pain from the broken bones in his hand for all he knew.


“After all this...” It took him a moment to realize the voice he heard was his own.


45 minutes until the deadline and all he had to show for it all was a scant few millimeters difference in dust