Author's Note: Sailor Moon and all related characters are the property of Takeuchi Naoko, Toei Animation and DIC. So, please, don't sue me because I haven't any money. I do this strictly for entertainment purposes, not copyright infringement.

The Vengeance Factor
by Jeffrey C. Branch
Chapter Two: Friends And Enemies
Rating: PG-13

Whitemoor Prison, Cambridgeshire, England, three years later:

As was his habit, Seamus Duncan, an early riser, woke up at 5 a.m. in his cell and was immediately irate at his miserable lot in life, knowing that, thanks to the sentence he had been given, the only way he'd ever leave Whitemoor, the toughest prison in all of England, was in a box.

Getting out of his cot, Duncan walked over to the window of his cell, eight feet above the floor where he saw the first rays of sunlight peeking in. Three years into a life sentence for first degree murder, terroristic threats and destruction of public and government property, Duncan, believing himself the victim of a judicial system prejudiced against Irish citizens in England, wished he could find a way to strike back at the Crown which he loathed. The only thing that give him pleasure was knowing that the person responsible for his capture, Sailor V, was dead.

"Stinking blonde cunt!" he growled. He stared at a calendar on his wall. Today's date was circled in red. Duncan grew angry because today was the third anniversary of his capture. "I hope your ass is roasting in hell!"

Every day for three years, Duncan started his day with that very same curse, and it helped to soothe his anger. At least he didn't have to worry about annoying a cellmate since he was in solitary confinement in the prison's special security unit as he was deemed too great a risk to be put into the general population. But that was fine with Duncan who had no desire to spend the rest of his life cooped up with Britons whom he considered lower than scum, so being alone, given his anti-social behavior, was something of a godsend.

Still, his existence wasn't totally barren. Duncan was allowed books to read from the prison library, and he developed a fondness for Stephen King and Tom Clancy. He received physical exams twice yearly; and, the highlight of his day was getting an hour out of his cell to exercise outside or watch television in the recreation room, all under the watchful gaze of grim faced, eagle eyed guards. Duncan's reputation as a brilliant bombmaker made it imperative that he never be left alone whenever he was out of his cell.

Duncan refused to become complacent. He was still locked away in a British prison, and that frustration burned like a fire within his belly. Most days, that fire literally burned, making his body feel as hot as a furnace, something he couldn't explain, yet wouldn't tell the prison doctors about it for fear of being slapped into a straitjacket. Every day, Duncan formulated escape plans, but had no way of executing them as he wasn't allowed phone calls or visitors from his fellows in the IRA whom he refused to squeal on.

But, that didn't stop Duncan from plotting. From scheming. From hating. That always made his body grow hot.

Thanks to a drenching rain, Duncan decided to spend his daily hour out of his cell in the inmate recreation room watching TV. Despite his incarceration, the IRA bomber liked watching the news to keep up on world events as best he could. Knowledge, after all, was power. When he entered the spacious room, followed by a guard, Duncan saw that it was sparsely occupied, which was fine with him. He rarely, if ever spoke with other inmates and had no desire to converse with them. After all, they were Britons, and he hated them.

Duncan grinned as he was entered the room just as the six p.m. newscast from the BBC began. He sat down on a well worn couch and settled in to watch the news.

"In news from around the world, there was a report of a chaotic, near disaster in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania," intoned the grim faced anchor. "During an American football game between the hometown Philadelphia Eagles and the Super Bowl Champion New England Patriots, an incident broke out on the playing field that resulted in hundreds of injuries, some severe, and a full blown riot. Law enforcement officials would not comment on the cause of the incident, but eyewitnesses claimed it involved the mysterious superhuman females from Japan known as the Sailor Scouts."

Duncan snorted. "Sailor Scouts? Christ! What a load of baloney!"

"Local television news crews tried to capture the Scouts on film, but they moved too fast to see," said the anchor. "However, one television station did manage to get this view of one of the heroines."

A grainy still shot appeared on the screen. Duncan's eyes widened and his mouth slowly fell open as he saw the picture. The figure, wearing a blue bow on the bodice of her white sailor suit with a short orange skirt had waist long, straight blond hair and a large red bow high on the back of her head. Standing up, Duncan's heart pounded like a piston in his chest, his head spun and his mouth went dry as he immediately recognized the girl. Time stood still for Duncan as stared dumbfounded at the screen.

"No! It can't be! It can't!" he croaked. "She's supposed to be dead! SHE'S SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD!"

With a strength borne of madness, Duncan picked up a heavy metal chair and, with a roar of rage, hurled it at the television, smashing the screen in a pyrotechnic explosion.

"SHE'S SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD!" Duncan screamed as guards rushed in to subdue him. Livid from fury, Duncan fought furiously with the guards who had trouble pinning him down. Additional guards rushed in and yet Duncan continued to fight, despite being outnumbered seven to one. Duncan's body became so hot, the guards winced from pain when they clutched at his skin. All the while, Duncan kept screaming: "SHE'S SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD!"

Finally, Duncan was overpowered after one of the guards clocked him with his blackjack and he lay still on the floor. The guards, panting from exertion checked their hands and were stunned and confused to see that their palms and fingers were red and blistered from having manhandled Duncan who, despite being unconscious, muttered to himself.

"No....no....no. She's supposed....to be....dead...."

When Duncan woke up, he was back in his cell, strapped to his bed, tightly bound in a straitjacket and groggy from what he knew was a tranquilizer because he had been sedated several times during the early months of his incarceration when he was a troublemaker.

As his head cleared, Duncan noticed he wasn't alone in the cell. Standing at the door was a burly, scowling guard, nightstick in hand. Duncan winced from a headache.

"What time is it, mate?" he asked.

"Ten thirty," the guard grumbled.

"Four hours? Jeez! I've been out that long?"

The guard nodded. "Yep. They put me here to watch over you until you woke up."

"Uhh, what happened?"

"You went starkers in the rec room, smashed the TV and screamed like a bloody maniac over and over about someone being dead."

Duncan frowned as he recalled seeing Sailor V, thought to be long dead in that East End warehouse explosion, but was very much alive instead. The sight of his hated enemy proved too much for him to handle and Duncan snapped. The stupid costume she wore was different, but that was definitely her, he thought angrily. She's alive! That stinking blond bitch is still alive!

Thinking about his enemy, the girl that landed him behind bars fueled Duncan's rage all over again. As he stewed, his body once again grew inexplicably hot.

"Care to explain what your tantrum was all about?" the guard asked.

Duncan scowled at him. "None of your business. Am I gonna spend the night in this thing?"

"Yup. Warden thinks you're too much of a risk to be let loose. Not that I care. My baby-sitting duty's over." The guard unclipped a radio from his belt and activated it. "Open cell six. Duncan's awake."

As the door opened, the guard sneered evilly at Duncan. "Pleasant dreams, jailbird."

"Same to you, asshole."

Once the guard left and the door clanged shut, Duncan was alone with his thoughts that were darker than the inside of his cell. Even though he was tired from the drugs that had been used on him, Duncan seethed because Sailor V still lived. And it made his body burn to the point where he started sweating.

"She's still alive. She's still alive," he muttered, seething from rage. "If only I could get out of here. I have to get out of here. I have to kill that bitch!"

The combination of the after effects of the drugs and his own exhaustion caused Duncan to fall asleep. But Duncan's rest was tortured as he tossed and turned, his dreams plagued by visions of the blond heroine with the red bow in her hair. As the hours passed, Duncan's dreams became more surreal as he envisioned being beaten to a bloody pulp by Sailor V who laughed demonically while torturing him.

"How does it feel, little man?" V said to Duncan in his nightmare as she continued pummeling him. She wore a shark like grin, exposing sharply pointed teeth. "How does it feel for a pathetic, good for nothing Irish loser like you to have the snot beat out of you by a Brit? By a girl?"

"No. No! Stop! Don't hurt me!" said Duncan, talking in his sleep. His body temperature rose dramatically.

"Foolish, stupid punk! What made you think you could ever defeat me?" growled V. Leering dangerously, the heroine pointed her index fingers and fired her laser beams through both of Duncan's thighs, causing him to scream from agony. "Now you know how it feels to be maimed, like you've maimed all those innocent people you've crippled and killed with your bombs!"

Duncan's thrashing in his bed intensified. So too did his body temperature, causing the straitjacket and his clothing to begin smoking.

"I was fighting for the cause!" the dream Duncan cried out to his tormentor. "It was collateral damage! People always die during war!"

"Bullshit! You never attacked military targets! You set off your bombs on school buses, in department stores! On crowded streets! You killed women! Children! Babies! Innocents who had nothing to do with the IRA's fight against Britain!" a furious V yelled back, her face flushed red from rage. "This isn't about Irish independence for you! It never was! You just like killing people! You're a psycho, Duncan! A murdering psycho bastard!"

"I'm not! I'm not!" the real Duncan whispered. Terrified, he desperately tried to wake up from his nightmare but couldn't. "I'M NOT!"

"Oh, yes you are, Duncan!" snarled V. She fired her beams through the dream Duncan's stomach, spewing blood and organs and he screamed again, the pain worse than anything he ever felt before. In the real world, the heat Duncan's body gave off was so intense, his straitjacket began to burn.

"It's time for me to do what I should've done in that warehouse!" growled V, pointing her index fingers at the dream Duncan's head. "It's time to put you down like the mad dog that you are! Goodbye, monster!"

With a demonic leer on her lips, V then fired her laser beam between Duncan's eyes and he screamed from monstrous, indescribable pain as his head exploded from the force of the beam. In the real world, Duncan, his straightjacket burning like paper shot up from bed screaming at the top of his lungs. His eyes snapped open, but they were blazing red. A second later, there was an incredibly loud explosion, and all went silent for him.

Tokyo, Japan, two weeks later:

Raye Hino tossed and turned in her sleep, caught fast in the grip of a horrific nightmare.

Moaning softly as she thrashed about in her traditional Japanese bed, Raye's vision found her, as Sailor Mars and the other Scouts in the middle of the city, devastated from fighting a terrible new enemy the likes of which they had never seen before. Raye envisioned massive explosions caused by this enemy that maimed, killed and destroyed lives, and the enemy roared from laughter the whole time, delighting in the carnage he caused.

Raye then saw the enemy focus his power, his monstrous, all consuming hatred on one of their own. It was a hatred that transcended reason, logic, even sanity. The hatred he had for his adversary was a mindless, bloodsoaked obsession that meant more to him than life itself. The enormous power this enemy possessed made him a threat to destroy the entire city just so he could gain a long awaited revenge on his adversary.

As the nightmare continued, Raye saw helpless innocents die and the streets run red with their blood like a macabre river, their heartrending screams of pain reaching up to the heavens. Buildings collapsed like matchsticks and the city, engulfed in flames seemed to fall apart before her very eyes. Finally, when the violence and destruction reached its peak, Raye's friend made the supreme sacrifice to stop the enemy.

"No! Don't!" whispered Raye in her sleep, reaching out as if to try and stop her friend from destroying herself. "Please! Don't do this! We can find another way to stop him! Don't throw your life away!"

But, it was too late. Her friend, bloodied, battered, exhausted but unbowed rushed forward, using the last of her power to stop the enemy and save the city. When the smoke cleared, the enemy was gone, the city was in ruins with thousands of people dead while her friend lay dying at the bottom of a huge crater, her body a horribly burned and broken ruin. With the other Scouts, all grieving around her, she said in a hoarse, pain wracked whisper:

"Good-bye....everyone. Tell Lita that....I loved her...."

And, with that, Sailor Venus, her friend, died.

"MINA! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" screamed Raye, shooting up from bed, her face soaked from tears and sweat.

"Raye! Raye! What is it? Are you alright?" came the worried voice of Chad from outside while frantically knocking on the door.

Raye, shaking, hugging herself, was hesitant to speak at first. "I think so."

"What happened to you?" Raye heard her grandfather ask.

"I had a nightmare, grandfather. It's over now," Raye replied. "I'll be fine, guys. Really. I'm sorry for waking you."

Outside the door, the elder Hino was leery of his granddaughter's claim. His senses told him Raye had a premonition, not a bad dream as she said. But he wouldn't press Raye for facts until she was ready to give them. He respected Raye's privacy and would wait for her to open up to him. If she opens up, given how stubborn she is, he thought. "Well, go back to sleep, dear. We have that wedding ceremony in the afternoon and I want you well rested."

"Yes, grandfather. Whatever you say," Raye replied.

"Maybe I should keep you company, Raye. Just in case you have any more nightmares," Chad suggested. Raye could hear the lecherous tone of his voice.

"Yeah, right! Get lost, you perv!" Raye growled.

From outside the door, Chad chuckled fiendishly. "Now that's the Raye I know and love! Sleep well, honey!"

In spite of herself, Raye giggled as she lay back down. She could always depend on Chad for comic relief when she needed it most. Glancing to her left where her alarm clock sat, Raye saw that it was a few minutes after two in the morning. The Shinto priestess sighed, knowing it would take awhile before she fell back asleep, if at all. That was normal for her after having a vision. But this one worried her greatly.

"A new enemy that's after Mina. And she dies fighting him," she muttered. Suddenly, Raye felt a sliver of fear since her premonitions were rarely wrong. "What does it all mean? Gods, I pray this vision doesn't come true."

"Mina! I'm leaving for the supermarket!" Mrs. Barbara Spencer called out from the living room as she put on her coat. "Is there anything you need?"

Mina Spencer, a tall glass of orange juice in one hand came out of the kitchen where she was having breakfast. "Nothing for me, mom, but we're running low on kitty litter for Artemis."

"Okay, dear, I'll pick up a bag. Be sure to leave a note on the fridge if you go out. 'Bye."

"See ya!" After Mrs. Spencer left, Mina returned to the kitchen where her scrambled eggs and bacon waited. Artemis, the white cat who served as her advisor scowled fiercely at the blonde while sitting on the sink.

"Thanks a lot for blurting that out!" he growled. "Why didn't you just take out an ad in the newspaper?"

Mina giggled. "I don't get that big an allowance."

"Very funny. How would you like it if I blabbed to anyone within earshot that you have trouble with incontinence?"

Mina's face screwed up from confusion. "In-who? Is that the name of a new boy band, Arty?"

Artemis rolled his eyes and gave up. "Never mind. And don't call me 'Arty'. So, what are you and Lita doing today?"

"Huh? Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Just that the two of you have practically been joined at the hip for almost a year now," Artemis grumbled. "You've been closer to Lita than her own shadow. The only time you're not with her is when you go to bed at night. And let's not mention the sleepovers at her place almost every weekend."

Mina shrugged as she shoveled a forkful of eggs into her mouth. "So? I know I've been spending a lot of time with Lita. She is my best friend you know. And I love being with her. Is that a problem?"

"No. It's just that you've been with Lita a lot lately. Too much if you ask me," Artemis fumed. "Last week, the two of you even went out on a date!"

"Good Grief! It wasn't a date. Lita found a new Italian restaurant near her place and wanted me to come with her to check out it's cuisine. You know how she's always copying recipes," Mina explained. She then gave Artemis a wry look. "I think I understand your attitude now, Artemis. You're jealous."

The white cat became indignant. "Me? Jealous? That's ridiculous! Why on earth would I be jealous of Lita?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because I've been with her more than I have with you? Just a guess."

Artemis snorted. Still, he felt uncomfortable as Mina was closer to the truth than he cared to admit. "Hmph! All that peroxide you've been using has warped your brain! Something like that would never occur to me!"

Now it was Mina who grew angry and she shot the cat a fearsome look. She didn't like anyone, not even Artemis saying she wasn't a natural blonde. "Better watch your mouth with that peroxide crack, or you'll be gracing Anna Kournikova's next tennis racket," she growled.

Artemis, seeing that Mina wasn't joking gulped. "Uh, sorry about that. I should've known better. Okay, I'll admit it. I have been....a little jealous of how close you and Lita have become."

"I'm surprised you're acting like that! Lita's part of the team! Besides, you have no idea just how much pain she's in because she hides it from everyone! Outside of the girls, she has no friends in or out of school because everyone's still afraid of her alleged 'bad girl' rep," Mina shot back. "While the rest of us have families to go home to, Lita has no one! Can you imagine what that must be like for her? You've never been with Lita on those rare times when she lets her guard down and she cries her heart out on my shoulder because she's so lonely! THAT'S why I'm with her so much! She needs me, Artemis!"

"I can understand that, Mina, but Serena needs you too. After all, she is the Moon Princess," Artemis countered.

Mina narrowed her eyes at the cat, her anger rising again. "Are you suggesting that I'd put Lita's welfare before Serena's?"

"I don't know. Would you?"

"Oh, for Christ's sake! If you're gonna remind me of my duty, save your breath and don't! I've only heard it from you about a million times!" Mina snapped. Bolting up from the table, she glared at Artemis. "Just like the girls, I've bled for my duty! Sacrificed any chance I had at a normal life for my duty! I've even died for my duty! Can you say that? CAN YOU?"

Artemis was nervous. He had never seen the normally cheerful Mina so furious before. "No, I can't," he replied.

"Then don't you dare say I'd drop the ball on my responsibility to Serena! I never have, and I never will!" Mina roared. "Sure, Lita's the most important person in my life, and I love her like a sister, but keeping Serena safe will always come first! No matter what! Is that what you wanna hear?"

"Yes, it is. I'm sorry to bring this up, but as an advisor to Queen Serenity, it's my duty to remind you of your responsibilities. The future of this planet, which we've seen, depends on you and the others. There can be no letdown in your focus on the big picture."

Mina snorted. She had grown weary of the conversation. "Yeah! Right! As is I need any more bloody reminders. Believe me, Artemis, if I thought I had a choice about my future, I would've quit playing superhero three years ago! Especially after what happened to me in England! But I can't! So I do what I have to do, even though I hate it!"

The blonde stared down at the remaining half of her breakfast and scowled. "Dammit! Now I've lost my appetite. All this aggravation because you have a problem with Lita. Thanks a lot!" She then rose from her chair with her plate, dumped the contents in the garbage disposal and dropped it in the sink before heading for the exit.

"Where are you going?" Artemis asked tentatively.

"To my room." Mina then fixed the cat a hard stare. "Look, do us both a favor and stay away from me for awhile, okay?"

"Sure." Without a second glance, Mina left the kitchen. Artemis knew that the blonde would spend the rest of the morning sulking and figured it best to give her a wide berth.

The white cat felt guilty for having ruined Mina's mood with his foolish insecurity over Lita. I didn't need to bring that up, yet I couldn't help myself, he thought. I am jealous of Lita. And I can't stop feeling like I do! This is so damned ridiculous!

Upstairs in her room behind a closed and locked door, Mina lay fuming on her bed, her pretty face locked tight in a deep frown.

I can't believe how insecure Artemis is about Lita, she thought angrily. I mean, jeez! So what if we're together all the time! It's not like we're going steady or anything!

Rolling over on her stomach, Mina looked at her nightstand, and the framed 8 X 10 color glossy of her and Lita that sat there. Taken in front of the Cherry Hill Temple two months ago, Lita, her arms wrapped around Mina's waist from behind was smiling cheerfully while Mina, sporting a playful grin flashed the peace sign with her right hand. In the lower right hand corner was an inscription:

'To my best bud! Luv ya, babe! Lita!'

Mina smiled as she looked at the photo. "I could have a pic of a gorgeous guy on my nightstand. Instead, it's my best friend," she muttered.

Mina decided she didn't mind. Boys came and went in her tumultuous life, more often than she cared to admit, and that always frustrated her. But Lita was always there for her, day in, day out, just as she was there for her. The two girls comforted and soothed each other's damaged spirits whenever their romances failed. Mina knew that a special bond existed between her and Lita, a bond that, in some ways, transcended friendship and approached intimacy. Mina found that she didn't mind that either.

The bond first formed almost a year ago after the nightmarish battle with Dharsite when Mina revealed her deepest, darkest secrets to Lita. Secrets about her failure to find true love with boys who wound up breaking her heart, like Alan had so long ago, and how she irrationally reasoned that being in a relationship with another girl would spare her pain. In the end, all Mina wanted was for someone to love her, and she didn't care which gender provide the affection she so desperately needed.

After her revelation, Mina feared that Lita would reject her, but she didn't, and proved that to Mina with a long and tender kiss. Mina smiled at the memory of that magic moment, forever frozen in time. Since that day, the friendship between the girls soared to new heights as they enjoyed a whole new feeling of closeness that never existed before. Thinking about Lita, Mina picked up her phone and hastily dialed her number. She needed to talk to her. The phone was answered on the third ring.

"Hello?"

"Hi, babe. It's me," Mina said nervously.

"Hi yourself, gorgeous. What's up?" Lita asked.

"Nothing much. I....I just wanted to hear your voice."

Mina heard a chuckle on the other end before Lita responded. "What a coincidence. I was just getting ready to call you for the same reason."

"Oh? You wanted to hear your voice too?" joked Mina. Already, she was feeling better.

"Very funny. Got any plans for today?"

"Nope. I'm free as a bee. What do you have in mind?"

Another chuckle. "That's 'free as a bird', you ninny. Anyway, I was thinking about whipping up a basket full of goodies for a picnic in the park. Just the two of us. Interested?"

"Are you kidding? I'm always interested in being with you."

"Cool! I'll be over by eleven. We'll have lots of fun!"

"I know we will." Mina paused for a moment. "Lita?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

"I love you too, babe. See you later."

After hanging up the phone, Mina sighed from contentment, pleased to know she'll be spending the day with Lita. As much as she enjoyed being in the company of Serena, Amy, Raye and Talia, the blonde treasured most the times she got to spend alone with Lita. Of late, Mina had begun to hate having to share Lita with the others, or being apart from her friend for any appreciable amount of time. She knew it was absurd, foolish, even irrational, but Mina couldn't help how she felt.

"Hardly acceptable behavior for one of the guardians of the Moon Princess," Mina muttered. "Maybe Artemis was right about his concerns. Still, Lita needs me. And....I need her."

With a shrug, Mina decided she didn't mind that either. A smile spread across her face as Mina hopped off her bed and went over to her closet. Her spat with Artemis a memory, Mina busied herself picking out an appropriate outfit. Lita would be over soon, and she wanted to look nice for her.

Dublin, Ireland:

Jeremiah 'Jerry' Rollins was famous, or infamous, in criminal circles for being one of the best forgers in all of Europe. Whether it was forged driver's licenses, plates for counterfeit currency or phony passports which was his specialty, Rollins was a master who's work fooled the experts at Interpol for twenty years, making him extremely wealthy in the process.

Rollins complex, secreted in a spacious, renovated bomb shelter under an office building owned by a friend of his, was a marvel of modern technology. It was manned twelve hours a day by his six person staff with all the latest forging equipment along with state of the art Pentium computers, fax machines, DSL modems, high resolution color laser printers, flatbed scanners, color copiers and cameras for taking passport pictures. Because Rollins dealt only in cash, and often kept a considerable amount on hand during the day, he also had four burly, muscle laden, hard faced giants toting Uzi submachine guns for guards.

Rollins's clientele read like a who's who of the underworld: Middle Eastern terrorists, American and Sicilian mobsters, German Fourth Reich fanatics, Russian gangsters, Japanese Yakuza along with any individual who could meet his price for his elite services. Rollins charged a lot because he produced the best. His favorite client was, of course, the Irish Republican Army whom he helped and financed as much and as often as he could. Like most of his brethren, Rollins hated the way Ireland was being treated by the British and did all he could to help the cause of Irish independence.

When Rollins arrived at the office early in the morning to set up a meet with a perspective new client from Iraq, he was puzzled to see a scowling man, wearing a filthy peacoat, jeans and hiking boots. Even though the man's head was cleanly shaven, Rollins recognized him instantly. After all, the man was family, though someone he thought he'd never see again.

"Seamus? Good Lord, man! Is it you?" Rollins cried.

"Who do ya think, Jerry?" Duncan grumbled.

"You were sent up for life! How'd you get out?"

"I'll tell ya inside. I feel naked standin' out here."

Rollins hustled his cousin inside the building, then down a secret flight of stairs to the complex. From there, Rollins took Duncan into his private office. While Duncan plopped down on a leather couch, Rollins brought out a bottle of aged Irish whiskey from his desk along with two glasses. The forger filled both glasses, then handed one to his cousin. The men then clinked glasses.

"Here's to being free, and Irish," said Rollins. After taking a healthy sip, he fixed Duncan a hard stare. "What the hell happened, Seamus? No one expected you to leave Whitemoor until you were put in the ground. How'd you get escape?"

Duncan looked pensive. He was still having trouble explaining his escape, even to himself. All he could remember at first was a massive explosion in his cell, followed by finding himself a mile outside the prison's gates. As Duncan figured out what had happened, he came to realize that something incredible had happened to him. Something he had to keep secret, no matter what.

"I, er, sprung myself. It's hard to explain. And I don't have time for that now," he said. "I gotta get out of Europe, Jerry. Fast. It won't take long for Interpol to come lookin' for me, if they haven't already. Can you help me?"

"Don't insult me by even asking. You're my cousin, Seamus. Of course I'll help," said Rollins. "Whatever you need, it's on the house. Just name it."

"Four things. A passport with a phony name, new ID, a plane ticket outta here and ten thousand pounds," said Duncan.

Rollins cocked an eyebrow from puzzlement. "Just that? Don't you want any guns? Explosives? I can get you those in nothing flat."

Duncan shook his head. "Nah. Can't risk that. The place where I'm goin' is real touchy about guns, and I don't wanna raise a ruckus. At least not until after I arrive there."

"And where's that?"

"Tokyo."

Rollins was puzzled. "Japan? Why there?"

"Two reasons: one, the coppers would never think to look for me there. Two, I've got....business there."

The forger frowned. 'Business' to Duncan meant murder and mayhem. Rollins then nodded. "Okay. You've got it. The passport, ID and cash will be ready in nothing flat. I'll call Air Lingus and reserve a flight for you. Round trip?"

Duncan shook his head. "One way, Jerry. I don't figure on comin' back here for quite some time, if at all. Got any contacts in Tokyo where I can get my hands on a gun?"

Rollins nodded. "I do some business with the Yakuza from time to time. I'll see what I've got in my files. In the meantime, let's get your pictures taken, then you can relax while I get everything together for you."

Two hours later, thanks to his cousin's expertise, the clean shaven Duncan was figuratively a whole new person. After a fitful rest on a couch in Rollins' office, his sleep plagued by dreams about being tortured by Sailor V, Rollins handed him a brand new passport and several id cards.

"Okay, your name is now Peter McDougal, a photography buff from Dublin on vacation to Tokyo to take pictures of the sights." Rollins handed Duncan a Nikon with a medium range telephoto lens. "You can use a camera, can you?"

Duncan nodded, closing his mind to the nightmares that dominated his sleep every night for the last two weeks. Nightmares that fueled his need for revenge against Sailor V. "Sure. Put a wafer thin slice of C-4 inside the lens mount, wire it to the shutter release, press it and....BOOM! Clever, eh?"

Rollins rolled his eyes. He always worried about his cousin's preoccupation with making bombs out of just about anything he could get his hands on. "Yeah, real clever." He then handed Duncan a black leather briefcase. "Your ticket to Tokyo and the cash is inside. Four grand in pounds, the rest in yen which you'll need once you arrive in Tokyo. I've also included the name and address of a Yakuza contact who can get you anything you need. The guy's handle is I.G. Tell him I sent you and you'll be all set."

"Thanks, Jerry. I appreciate all your help," said Duncan, holding out his hand. He suddenly felt sad because of what he was about to do to his cousin. Duncan didn't like it, but he had no choice.

"No problem. Anything for family," said Rollins, shaking his cousin's hand. "You better get out of here, pal. Your flight leaves in two hours."

"Okay. It's been great knowing you. See ya." With his head down, Duncan, looking like he had just lost his last friend in the world left the complex. Rollins, watching him was puzzled by his cousin's dour expression. With a shrug, Rollins picked up a clipboard from his desk that had his schedule of jobs for today. Just as he was about to pick the phone to call a Corsican mobster staying in Ulster who needed new i.d., the sound of someone clearing his throat behind him made Rollins turn. When he did, he saw Duncan.

"What's wrong, Seamus? Forget something?" he asked.

"Not quite. Just somethin' I wish I didn't have to do. But I have to," said Duncan, his body smouldering hot, his eyes closed. "I can't afford to leave any witnesses behind. I'm really sorry, Jerry."

Rollins was confused. "Witnesses? What are you talking about?"

"This," said a dour Duncan, opening his eyes. Rollins was horrified to see they were blazing red.

An instant later, the complex, and the building above it was rocked by a thunderous explosion.

NEXT: Angels And Devils

GO TO CHAPTER THREE