7 Fiancees'

Episode 5

"This episode was brought to you by the spirited energy drink, 'Dynamic'! Now you can be like Steven Segal, and beat a man to watch him die!"




"I presume this has something to do with the information we have requested?" Scarlet enquired, ignoring the bickering going on behind her from her two associates and close friends.

David nodded, heading to his car, "Something like that, we're going to have to head into town to pick up the info, they wouldn't fax it to me. I guess a secure line or something."

"I see," Scarlet replied, heading to her own car."

"Best to take my car," the Native American quickly suggested, nodding over to his Plymouth Barracuda.

The three women frowned at the car in distain. "It only has two doors," Lavender pointed out in a monotone voice.

"Seats raise up in the front to let you in," David pointed out, opening the passenger side, and shifting the seat forward to demonstrate.

"I do not think that is what Lavender was concerned about." Scarlet attempted to clarify.

"I shall refuse to remain in a seat next to her in such cramped conditions!" Lavender stated adimantly, pointing at Chef, who narrowed her eyes, and reached into her suit to pull out her whipping cane.

David blinked, "You two didn't seem so adverse to it last night..."

"Excuse me, but you are not helping any," Scarlet moaned, before speaking in Japanese, "Listen you two. Let's just do as he says. The faster we get this done with no fuss, the sooner we can get on our way and get out of this disgusting waste 'nature'."

Both girls bowed their heads in compliance, before listlessly trudging to the other vehicle. "why don't you sit in the back with one of them, if it's that big an issue?" David enquired, wondering what the big deal was in the first place.

Scarlet turned and looked at her comrade, and her face twitched at the slightly hungry looks the two of them developed. "Just shut up, and take us to where we need to go," the woman with the crimson tipped tresses commanded,stepping into the passenger side after Chef and Lavender got in.

The reservation police officer shrugged, and looked around before mumbling to himself, "It's not that bad out here, is it?" Shaking his head, he entered, and almost immidiately after that, they drove off.


Even if he was indoors, he continued to wear his hat. The slightly chubby sitting behind the large oak desk with his legs propped up on it loved his hat, it was his definition of style. It's what completed his white suit, wingtip shoes, and pastel maroon shirt; the classy white wool felt casual hat with the maroon band around the base.

The people across from his desk, the Asian man with the pigtail, and the redheaded woman, had no such identifications of their class. Sure, the black suit with the initials 'R.S.' on the pocket with deep red shirt, black socks, and black suade shoes definitely had some style, he would admit. Also, the woman's stone gray business suit with high cut skirt, and the hairstyle that kept her obviously long hair in a bun gave her a distinguishment that most he decided in the country lacked. But they lacked the headgear that was made vogue so long ago by the classic mobs that used to dominate the city of Chicago oh so long ago.

Because of that, they were benieth him, but he was willing to deal with them, if it availed him anything. And since they were beneith him, he thought what they were proposing made them out of their frigg'n minds.

"You have any idea what the hell you're wanting, here?" Regenald 'The Reverend" Dickson enquired, removing his feet from his desk, so he chould sit properly and look at the two directly in the eyes. His bodyguard snorted derisively, as he continued to flip a coin between his fingers with exellent dexterity.

The man known as 'R.S' smiled, "Yes, it does seem a bit ludicrous, doesn't it?"

The Reverend sighed, and stood up, "I had important things to do with my time..."

The redheaded woman stood abruptly with an angry expression at the implied insult. As she did so, the Reverend's bodyguard, a young man in his mid twenties in an off-white suit, pale sun yellow dress shirt, and brown suspenders stepped between the woman and his boss, daring her to make a move.

R.S, sighed, and put an arm up to withstall his associate's actions. "I assure you, this would not be a waste of time. Even your long standing rival, Mitch Copperfield, is willing to agree to an alliance with you, if you would collaborate."

That caused the Reverend to raise an eyebrow, "You got that dick to agree to working with me?"

"You may contact him if you like," R.S. replied, simply.

"And what do I end up with all this?" the Reverend asked, far from convinced, "I mean, if we agree with this 'All under the Heavens' crap you're selling?"

The smirk R.S. wore fell, as his face became completely serious, "Total, and absolute control under your jurisdiction."

"Mitch ain't gonna like that," Dickson stated.

"Mr Copperfield is inconsequential," R.S. stated, flippantly, "You're the one with the majority rule and power around this area."

"Heh", the Reverend turned to look out the window of his twenty second story office, "You probably said the same damn thing to that annoying bastard."

The pigtailed Asian man's face grew angry, as if he had been insulted, "No, I did not."

The Reverend turned just in time to see his reaction, and smirked, "Well, if you're that serious about it... I'll think on it."

"THIS IS AN OUTRAGE!" the redheaded woman proclaimed, no longer willing to be held back. The Reverend's bodyguard moved directly in front of her, smiling sinisterly.

"Emma, please," R.S. commanded, knowing it wouldn't do any help. The woman had a fiery passion that would never be abated, which was what got her her job in the first place, and why he liked her so much.

Unheeding of her associate, she moved to shove the man out of the way to her right in an attempt to approach the Reverend. The bodyguard spun against her shove to his left, before dropping to the floor almost laying on his side, and sticking his left leg straight out between hers, as he kept his left leg bent with the bottom of his foot planted against the floor. His right hand was braced against the floor near his ribs, and his left hand was on the floor in front of his stomach.

Emma responded by tucking her right hand to the side of her waist, while her left hand was extended forward. Her right leg's knee was almost touching the ground, while it was behind her left leg. Her left side was facing towards the Reverend's bodyguard, as her hands were flexed into claws, ready to snag onto anything they were meant to, and tear like an eagle's talons.

"Nick," the Reverend said simply, which caused the young man on the ground to bring in his right leg, and slowly get up while covering his face with his left arm. Emma in turn unflexed her hands, as the other bodyguard stepped back with a haughty smirk. Dickson turned back to his two guests, and placed his hands flat against his desk. "You'll have my answer in two days. Don't think I would simply take this all in stride."

"In truth, I would have questioned your judgement if you didn't, in turn questioning my own judgement of approaching for your involvement." R.S. stood up, and bowed, "You have the means to contact me, I shall await your answer... Mrs. O'Neil..."

Giving both men one last glare, Emma O'Neil turned to follow her associate. The way her back remained tense told them that she was ready for any trechary from behind.

"Oh, one more thing," R.S. said, stopping before the door, "I suspect I'm being followed. If you happen to come across three lovely Asian women enquiring on my whereabouts, I presume you'll know where to direct them..."

The Reverend smiled, "Consider it a friendly courtesy."


Scarlet looked out the window of the small reservation town, as she attempted to ignore the catty snipes behind her, even if she was sorely tempted to backslap the both of them for embarrassing her.

"Girls, if you don't stop, I'm turning this car back around and we're heading home," David joked, before his face formed a frown.

Lavender was about to retort, before she caught where the Native American's glare fell. "That is the guy from last..." Scarlet started, before she turned an evil glare towards the driver, "What are we out here for?"

"Sorry, I forgot to mention the little side trip I had to make first." David admitted, just before a gun was pressing into the base of his skull.

"Take us back, now." Scarlet comanded, as Lavender flicked the safety off.

"Now hold on a se- Damn!" David quickly jerked the steering wheel, pulling the car into a full 180 degrees. Lavender yelped, as Chef slammed into her from the momentum.

"Sorry 'bout that," David mumbled, as he then quickly turned his American musclecar towards the alley he had seen his quarry rush down through. It wasn't long before they caught up with the black jeep that barreled through the dusty road that lead to the other side of the town.

Lavender brought her Jericho back up to threaten the driver, only to have Scarlet gently push the barrel away.

"[Not while he's driving]" the woman commanded. She realized how much David had struggled to get the car back under control after that abrupt turn. If something were to happen to him, she wasn't sure how well she would fair getting things back under control. "[Just let him do what he needs to do, and we'll beat the seven hells out of him when he's done, understood?]"

Lavender smirked, pulling her gun up, and nodded cheerfully. She turned and looked at Chef, who was smiling just as broadly.

"I'm glad you have things under control," David quipped, concentrating on steering clear of the bumps that could send his vehicle careening out of control. With skill, yet no ease, David managed to keep up with the vehicle more suited for the terrain; twisting and sliding around the road like a wounded snake in pursuit of a field mouse, barely missing the corners of buildings, stray pedestrians, and streetlights, he kept up with a tenacity that his passengers midly admired.

After several minutes of a quickly becoming fruitless pursuit, that admiration wore out. "Lavender," Scarlet turned towards her compatriot, earning her attention. The scarlet tressed woman nodded to the jeep ahead of them, and the woman in the trenchcoat nodded, and began rolling down her window.

"You can handle controlling this vehicle well, I presume?" Scarlet suddenly asked David.

"Heh, these were my training wheels," the reservation cop responded confidantly.

Scarlet nodded, "Good". Without warning, she suddenly grabbed the steering wheel, and turned it sharply. David yelped, as it was forced to turn on the dime.

As it spun, it turned Lavender's side towards the escaping jeep. Her hair swayed with the momentum of the car, as she cooly stuck her cherished gun out the window, and fired two almost causal shots that sped away from their origin. Lavender's aim so keen, that time stood still for each bullet fired, freeze framed just as they exited the barrel. As the plymouth Barracuda turned away, the bullets continued bearing down on the jeep, streaking through the air and leaving their surroundings visually blurred in streaks, before striking their destination's two back tires dead on; perfect holes that rolled with the abruptly flattened tires.

David managed to turn the car into a full 360, just in time to see his tag wobbling down the street. The Native American blinked, before turning his shocked and dumbfounded expression to a bored Lavender, "Thanks."

"[Ass]" Chef mumbled, forgetting her host didn't speak Japanese.

"If you would, officer?" Scarlet gestured to their quarry.

David pulled out of his shock, and quickly put the car in first gear. Tires rubbed against the red clay road, causing the vehicle to waver in place, before it got its grip, and chased after the jeep. The chase ended just outside of town in sparse forrestation where a barely traveled road lead them.

The man from the previous night stepped from the jeep, standing to his full six foot ten. He flexed his heavily built body, strainging muscles against the tight wifebeater he wore. he asually rubbed his wrists, currently wrapped in wrist wraps, like he was prepared for a fight.

"What seems to be the problem... officer?" he sneered, deep voice thumbing in bass.

David stepped from the Barracuda, followed by the girls. "Well... thought I would ask you to pull over, so you can answer a few questions for me." Subtly, the reservation cop reached behind him, grabbing ahold of one of his tomahawks. "I was off duty last night, Rick. Hope you have time to talk now."

With a snort, the taller Native American strode up to the officer, staring down at him with contempt. "No, I don't have any time for you. I hope you're planning on paying for my tires."

"I hope you're planning on paying the ticket for your speeding violation," David retorted.

"[I hope they stop posturing soon,]" Chef whispered to Scarlet.

"Yeah, you can add it to my fine for assaulting an officer of the law," Rick growled, before his fist suddenly flashed towards David's face. The smaller man's hatchet was suddenly parrying away the blow, as the second one flew past Rick's face; the wire on it growing taunt at a short distance, and wrapping around the Thai fighter's punching arm.

Kicking out the taller man's knee, David grabbed ahold of the man's arm, and tossed him best he could., simultaniously unwrapping his hatchet from the appendage.

Rick rolled with the throw, launching at his advisary with a lunging knee. David brought his right foot up, stepping onto the knee, and used it to leverage himself into a backflip, allowing his left foot to jackknife into the taller man's jaw.

As the gigantic Thai fighter staggered, David easily recovered, suddenly swinging his tomahawks by the wires they were attached to. Rick ducked away in time to miss a swipe at his neck, allowing it to slice cleanly through a tree. The second hatchet headed down towards Rick's skull, but was sidestepped and elbowed away, shattering the fragile flint in the air.

David swore at the loss, and swore at his carelessness, when the taller man slammed a meaty fist into his gut, lifting him into the air. The reservation cop grabbed onto Rick's forearm, using it to steady himself for a kick into the other man's gut.

As the air left his lungs, the Thai fighter wrapped his other arm around around the officer's neck, trapping the smaller man's head under his armpit. Just as he was about slam him sideways, he felt the smaller man tapping him on the elbow. "What the hell you want? I'm in the middle of kicking your ass!"

"The girls," David choked out, best he could, and pointed back to his car. Rick blinked, and turned to look at the three women, sitting on the hood of the Barracuda, talking amongst themselves in some foreign language, and paying no mind to the fight. Indignant, Rick dropped David unceremoniously onto the ground, "Hey..."

The girls ignored him, pointing to a bug crawling on the ground, and making distainful expressions.


All three looked up, and though only two understood what he said, all three caught the connotation. Scarlet looked towards her two compatriots, who rolled their eyes, and gestured to the tall man. Almost giddily, Scarlet leapt from the hood of the car, quickly striding forward.

"Oh, so you want a piece of this?" Rick threatened, reeling back his arm for a heavy launching elbow. Scarlet spun back to her left, and flew forward with a leaping Thai elbow of her own. Both collided heavily, their momentums cancelling each other out, and causing them to both fall straight back to earth.

"What the f-" Rick started to shout, grabbing his fractured forearm, and was interrupted by a heavy Thai kick to the ribs, cracking a couple of them. Scarlet then shifted into a deep uppercut, catching the man in the jaw, and lifting him off the ground. But before he could go anywhere, the woman grabbed onto his neck with the fist she just hit him with, holding him off the ground.

"God... damn," both Rick and David whispered, just as Scarlet casually dropped him, allowing the broken Thai fighter to crumble to the ground.

David slowly brought himself back to standing, looking down at the defeated man with more than a little surprise. "Now if you don't mind, we and my associates have much we have to do." Scarlet advised, walking back to the other two women.

"Oh... um, right," David mumbled, before reaching into the downed man's pockets, and finding car keys, "Take my car, I'm going to have to run him to the station real quick, while I pick up the information you girls want. I'll meet you back at my place, you remember the way, right?"

Scarlet turned, and caught the keys tossed to her. With a nod, she turned, and motioned the other two to get into the car.

David waited for the girls to drive off, before turning to look at the slowly recovering potential convict. "Damn bitch, broke my damn arm."

"Don't worry, I'll make it all better," David stated, casually.

"Heh so you're paying for my hospital bill, too? This shit is police brutality," Rick chocked out coughing up a bit of blood.

"That won't be necessary."

"What the hell? My damn arm's broken, and my rib-"


David reholstered the gun he carried on him that wasn't registered in any official manner.

"The Agency does not tolerate rogues..."