<div align="center"><strong>-=Vincent Kincaid – Paying the price for his overconfidence – Persephone=-</strong></div><br/>As their first kiss progressed, the world around him became something wholly insignificant by comparison.  In his mind, there was nothing but Mae and himself adrift in empty space; a universe where only the pair existed and served to sustain each other through the emotional bond between them that seemed to have waited for that very moment to make a connection.<br/><br/>All of his senses became entirely attuned to Mae and nothing else.  First and foremost, the taste of her lips were the most intoxicating substance he had ever experienced.  In the first moment of contact Vincent’s mind swam in a torrent of emotions that would have robbed him of all balance had he not so tightly held onto Mae who served as his anchor in several senses of the phrase.  Then came her scent.  Not the smell of soap from her freshly washed skin, but her natural pheromones that were delightfully effeminate and so appealing that it very well could have been customized for him.  Given how intimately she responded to his kiss, that could very well have been the case now that he could clearly see the emotions she had kept hidden from him.  Even though his eyes were closed allowing him to focus more acutely on the other senses, he could all but visualize in his mind the sensual movements of her body as the pair got further lost into the kiss.  For once, his fantasies had come up short and entirely underestimated just how wonderful this experience would feel.  The sounds of her soft moans and heated growls acted as NOS to his already revved libido and sent his need for Mae to new intensities.  He wanted to be with her in body, mind, and soul; to be alone to thoroughly delve into these revealed emotions the two shared leaving nothing overlooked.  Oh God, and her touch. The moment she pressed her hands against his torso, it had been the type of intimate caress he had dreamed about for so long and it had been enough to elicit a deep wanton breath in the middle of their kiss.  Trails of electricity followed in the wake of her wandering fingers causing him to shudder lightly as he reveled in it.  Vincent could feel her desire take control of her, as his did the same.  His stomach fluttered with anticipation as he felt her tug at the fabric of his shirt, causing his embraced to tighten even more while the kiss became deeper.  And when her fingertips came into contact with his bare flesh the resulting pleasure of the intimate contact forced a low blissful moan to resonate in his throat as his back arched to press him more firmly into her touch.<br/><br/>As the kiss slowly ended, Vincent could feel her lips curl into a mischievous smile against his.  He had  some idea of the things that could have popped into her mind to elicit such an expression, but it had caused a few ideas of his own to form bringing about a smile very similar to hers.  When their lips finally did part, Vincent gradually became aware of the world around them, but it had still only remained background to Mae.  His entire body radiated heat as his heart raced with desire for more even though he was still a little light headed.  The only aspect of discomfort he was experiencing was a result of his pants suddenly feeling as though they had become a few sizes too small for its contents.<br/><br/><em>”Ýeh Su!  You sure kept that a secret...”</em><br/><br/>A sense of tranquility had shown in his eyes, which was at odds with the grin upon his lips.  “I could say the same about you.”<br/><br/><em>”Vinnie… Ai Ya!  I can’t… there’s no words…  I mean…  did you feel the earth move? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure it was spinning pretty damn fast there at one point.”</em><br/><br/>Vincent blinked several times in succession, feigning confused surprise.  “Oh, right!  We are on a planet.  I totally forgot.  I could have sworn one of us turned off the artificial gravity somewhere in that kiss.”  Even as the two were still reeling from the onrush of emotions from the kiss, they were still able to seamlessly exchange playful banter effortlessly.  Vincent chalked that up to being a very good thing for the potential the two shared in making something meaningful last between them.  Mae’s firm grasp on his shoulders had been the sort of suggestive contact that caused him to exercise all of his available willpower to keep from taking her right there in the middle of the small eatery.  Thankfully for the sake of public decency, he had mitigated those actions into a tense shudder and trapping his lower lip between his teeth with a long sigh.<br/><br/><em>”Let’s do it again!  Perhaps some place less public?  How hungry are you Vinnie?”</em><br/><br/>Swallowing nervously, his entire being both anxious and anticipating of what those words implied.  The moment he longed for so long had arrived and he would be a damned fool to let it slip by.  “I’m starved…”  he replied with a suggestive grin, “but not for food.”  Vincent all but scooped Mae off his lap, slammed a sum of money on the table to pay for the ordered food plus a very generous tip, and the two soon-to-be lovers virtually raced out of the eatery hand-in-hand.<br/><br/><hr/><br/>By the time they made it to Eavesdown Docks, it had been long past the standard workday and the crewmen upon the premise had been light.  Most likely a result of the lull between shifts.  Though Vincent had been so focused upon Mae that such an observation hadn’t registered with him.  It would have been something that would have caused him to guide her further away from the shipping warehouses rather than walking along side them.  There had been plenty of daylight left in the early evening sky, which only put him further into a false sense of security.  Only when the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end the moment Mae dashed a few paces ahead of him as a result of a playful spank did he suddenly become aware of his instincts all but shouting at him.  As she turned to face him with a sultry expression, still walking backwards, a figure stepped out from the narrow alley separating two structures directly behind her.  A fleeting glance of his clothing would have convinced any casual observer that he was just another dockworker.  The sharp dose of adrenaline suddenly coursing through Vincent’s veins had seemed to slow his perception of time enough to take a more thorough measure of the man within the course of a racing heartbeat as his mind extrapolated facts.  First and foremost, the orange vest and white hardhat upon the man lacked any insignia of their employer.  Such a thing was required for every worker whether by the docks proper or some contractor company.  Second, the clothing under the vest were not made of the flame retardant material mandated for employees who worked on a site that contained volatile substances such as rocket fuel.  Finally, and most alarming, was the man’s build.  Instead of the broad slabs of muscle that was typical of most skilled laborers, his had been the lean agile build of a mercenary.  Or a hitman.<br/><br/>Even though Vincent had attempted to warn Mae the moment he saw the figure first immerge from the alley, the man had moved swiftly and fluidly striking before he could even shout the first syllable.  With an arcing swing that had begun with the same step he rounded out of his concealment, he slammed the lead filled sap hard against the back of Mae’s head right where the base of the skull met the top of the neck with a heavy<em><strong>SMACK</strong></em>.  She was out cold even before she began to collapse to the ground.  Before her limp body had a chance to make it far, the man wrapped his opposite arm under her arms and pulled her back into the alley where he emerged.<br/><br/>Vincent instantly moved into a dead sprint, his stride faltering only for a moment long enough for him to pull the radio from his pocket.  There was no doubt in his mind that he was their target and Mae simply served as bait, but such overt tactics were uncommon for this organization.  Which meant that they were eager for the opportunity to apprehend Vincent which left Mae’s fate entirely up in the air.  Even if he was to fail, he at least wanted to make sure the others would be looking for them.  Of course, if it came to that, he was confident the only one they stood a chance at finding in time to be of help would be her.  That nugget of truth did nothing to deter Vincent’s pursuit; he would give anything to ensure Mae’s safety, even if the price was one Vincent Kincaid’s life, slightly used.<br/><br/>Bringing the radio to his mouth and pressing the transmit button, he continued his sprint towards the alley.  “Griff! I ne— SHIT!“  Before he could give out any more, Vincent rounded the corner to come face to face with a large beefy man, whose mother was likely a Kodiak bear and his father an Abrams tank, in the middle of a homerun swing of a baseball bat aimed right at his head.  It wasn’t so much the knee-jerk reflex of seeing the blow rapidly approaching that saved him from a world of pain as much as it had been the good fortune of deciding to make a call out to the others.  There hadn’t been enough time for him to dodge the attack, not when his momentum had been so strongly focused in one direction, leaving him with the only option of blocking.  Rather than attempting to do so with his face, which he deemed would have been entirely counterproductive to the desired outcome; he moved his hand to intercept the blow.  Of course, the hand that had been in the immediate area was the one that held the radio to his face.  The metal bat struck the heavy-duty casing of the radio solidly as the case and components absorbed the blunt of the impact that would have otherwise shattered the comparatively fragile bones in his hand and fingers.  Instead, Vincent threw himself down to avoid the follow through of the swing, not daring to chance a last minute correction of the deflected swing plane.<br/><br/>Vincent landed on his side, his one hand numb from the indirect impact while the radio was clearly out of commission.  A predatory grin spread across Mr. Beefy’s lips as he lifted the bat for an overhead incapacitating blow.  Thanks to yet another dose of adrenaline, Vincent got to watch the swing in slow motion while at the same time getting a good look at his opponent.  Mr. Beefy had all the trademark signs of a standard low intelligence thug.  Likely a college athlete in his heyday, having the type of build quarterbacks dreamed of having between them and the opposing team.  The bat looked small in the meaty hands of the man who wielded it, the swing seemed awkward  as fluid motion gave way to the impediment of the slabs of muscle.  Vincent smiled inwardly as he watched the bruiser’s balance shift with the swing and waited for him to bring all of his weight a momentum forward on his leading leg.  At that critical moment, Vincent’s seemingly defensive curl revealed itself as the poised kick it really had been.  Using the paved ground to brace himself, he delivered a savage kick right into Mr.Beefy’s vulnerable knee.  The weight focused upon the leg prevented the force of the kick from being mitigated, in fact, Mr. Beefy’s size only served to make it even worse.  In an instant, the joint gave way in a cracking of bone, popping of cartilage, and tearing of tendons as it bent in a way that nature had not intended it to do so.  It was the sort of career-ending injury athletes everywhere had nightmares about and that realization shown just as clearly in his agonized expression as the pain itself.  Mr. Beefy fell like a landslide; his effort to minimize the damage sent him into a spin causing the swing to go wide as he dropped to the side yowling in agony lamed and out of the fight.<br/><br/>Vincent rolled out of range of the man’s grasp just in case Mr. Beefy wanted to try his luck a second time.  With the crippled knee, there would have been little he could have done to actually harm Vincent, but it would have certainly bought any other cronies enough time to take advantage of the situation.  Knowing better than to linger on the ground, he jumped to his feet squaring himself for a round two.  Three men yet remained in the shaded alley; a scrawny man with tight muscles that would be best not to discount stood on the left.   The taller muscular man who hurt Mae on the right, having lost the hardhat revealing closely cropped red haired flat top.  In the middle of them and just a pace behind a man straight out of Vincent's past standing next to Mae's unconscious form.  Or as Vincent nicknamed them, Slim, Red, and Hendrix respectively.  The man who was obviously in charge of the group stood at a little above average height, brown hair, and otherwise unremarkable.  That is aside from the air of competence that all but seemed to be radiating off him.  All three had smug smiles on their faces despite the rather brutal manner in which their fourth was dealt with.<br/><br/>"Feh,"  Vincent scoffed at them defiantly, "Has the Wah Ching lost so much face that they're resorting to delivering cheap shots to defenseless women?  Afraid the four of you couldn't take her in a fair fight?"<br/><br/>That remark helped squelch their superiority complex a few degrees, their smug smiles turning into mild annoyance; save for Hendrix who was totally unaffected by it.  Instead, he knelt over Mae and lightly caressed her cheek with the back of his hand.<em>"Looks like you are doing quite well for yourself, lao peng you.  I always had a feeling you liked them on the young."</em>His gaze rose to meet Vincent's, almost gleeful to see the seething rage building in his eyes for touching her.<em>"How old is she?  Like sixteen?"</em><br/><br/>Vincent snarled when he watched the way Hendrix touched Mae.<em>His</em>Mae.  His eyes flashed aside to the aluminum bat that had tumbled out of Mr. Beefy's hands and lay motionless a mere five feet away from him compared to the twenty or so feet from the two henchmen.  After a moment's pause, he decided to go for it.  Two long strides closed the distance quickly, but the movement caused Slim and Red to snap into action and they were quickly closing the distance.  For that reason, Vincent picked it up on the fly by crouching down mid-stride and snatching it without stopping.  Using his momentum, he swung the bat at Slim in a fluid motion as he rose from picking up the weapon in a smooth underhanded swing.   Slim proved to be more agile that Vincent had initially expected, narrowly avoiding the blow with a graceful sidestep that caused him to disappear into his peripheries.  Knowing better than to stop and turn, Vincent pressed forward to the slower Red redirecting his upswing into a backhanded strike.  He may not have been as agile as Slim, but he took the blow to the side of the head like a champ.  The bat struck, but the one-handed swing lacked enough power to do more than stagger the big man for a moment.  A moment that Vincent knew better than to let go to waste.<br/><br/>Taking the bat in a proper two-handed grip, Vincent turned a quick three-sixty to stop Slim from making the flanking attack that was all too obvious, forcing him to halter his attack while the bat continued to accelerate until it struck Red right in the solar plexus forcing the wind out of his lungs.  Again, it had been an awkward swing that lacked much power, but Vincent would settle for several weaker strikes that would eventually do the job rather than one powerful one that might take one out but leave him open to the other.  With another moment of advantage bought, Vincent dared a quick blow that would hopefully put him out long enough to deal with Slim.<br/><br/>Instead of pulling back for another swing, Vincent planted his feet and thrust the bat upwards axially to bring the snubbed head of the bat crashing into Red's jaw.  The big man's mouth shut with a loud snap before the force exerted onto the lower jaw was transferred into the rest of the head with a hard jerk that knocked the man flat on his ass.  He was disoriented and seeing stars, but would most likely be back into the fray before too long.  Now it was time to deal with Slim.  Vincent brought the bat around once more, hoping to catch the would-be flanker right when he entered range, but he had misjudged his timing.  Slim had already closed the distance and was inside his field of attack.<br/><br/>Slim stopped the swing dead in its tracks with a thrust of his palm to the back of Vincent's wrist, then proceeded to do something with his other hand that sent the bat tumbling down the alleyway.<em>Shit!</em>Vincent knew Slim got the jump on him, but he wouldn't give up that easily.  Taking a quick step back to square himself Vincent pressed forward in a barrage of punches that lacked the discipline of a trained martial artist, but had all the brutal efficiency of a skilled street fighter.  Whether Slim had been thoroughly versed in hand-to-hand combat or Vincent's time aboard The Gamble had made him rusty, none of the strikes managed to find their mark.  Then the wily opponent did something that he couldn't entirely follow and the next thing Vincent knew, his arms were locked behind him torqued in such a way where attempting to break free would likely result in a dislocated shoulder or two.  Not that it mattered much, the hold was one that also kept him off balance with his center of gravity relying entirely upon Slim to brace him upright from behind.<br/><br/>Hendrix casually strolled to face him, the smug smile never leaving his face.  Knowing that he is up against the ropes, Vincent resorts to his fallback tactic whenever force fails.  Sarcastic banter.  "I must be losing my touch, it only took four gorram foot soldiers to subdue me."<br/><br/><em>"Clearly you're behind the times.  You've only managed to fend off two uninitiated lackeys while the two enforcers remained entirely unharassed.  Though, I believe you are also correct in that your time away from home has made you soft.  Certainly you haven't forgotten why Master Tsume is eager to see you die a slow and painful death at his hands."</em><br/><br/>Vincent shrugged as best he could with his arms held back as they were.  "Jealousy as far as I can tell.  I'm brilliant as well as skilled."  He said modestly.  "It's a great burden.  All that on top of my angelic good looks... But I try to soldier on as best I can."  Hendrix scowled sharply before rearing back and slamming a hard fist into the side of Vincent's left eye sending a flash of phantom light over his vision before receding into a dull but very present pain.  He shook his head, to regain his bearings already aware of the tension in that portion of his face.  It would turn into a very nice shiner pending he lived long enough for it to develop.<br/><br/>"Did I not mention my nearly godlike sense of tolerance and forgiveness?"<br/><br/>Again, Vincent's wiseass remark was met by physical violence in a series of six heavy blows to the ribs.  The air burst out of his lungs at the first and the others ensured he would have trouble regaining it.  Had he the capacity to exchange banter, he would have done so, but instead focused on drawing breath.  It was unlikely the punches were strong enough to crack a rib, but there was no telling with the way his body was being restrained providing a wide open target.  Most likely just going to be bruised.  Either way, it made breathing a difficult chore.<em>"Just be thankful that Master Tsume took your betrayal personally, otherwise we would have been content with shooting you and dumping your body in a ditch somewhere.  Though once he gets started, I'm sure you'd much rather prefer such a clean death."</em><br/><br/>"Is this the part... where you launch into... a villainous monolog?"  Vincent forced out between labored breaths.  "I see that you've... been reading The... Cliché Evil Doer's Handbook...  I didn't know it came... in picturebook form...  I hope you didn't struggle... too much with the big words."<br/><br/>Vincent saw the malicious glare in Hendrix's eyes and knew his constant belittling of the organization they held in such high regard was getting under his skin.  Again, this was met with another flurry of blows.  The first balanced out his face by ensuring he would have a matching set of black eyes followed by two to the jaw.<em>At least it's symmetrical now.</em>Vincent couldn't help but chuckle at that little silver lining he found, his breathing not fully recovered but becoming manageable enough to speak.  He could have sworn he could feel his face pulsating in rhythm to his heartbeat, wondering if it was as obviously seen as it felt like it would be.  The laughing only made Hendrix even more furious, but this far he was managing to keep himself in line enough to avoid making stupid mistakes.<br/><br/><em>"Laugh while you can lao peng you, it'll be much more difficult once the Reverent Mother cuts out your tongue as a prelude to your punishment."</em><br/><br/>"Reverent Mother, huh?  Is she pretty?  If she's pretty I'd just turn on the Kincaid charm and have her eating out of my hand.  But I can't take chances with that kind of power if I'm not sure she's pretty.  Used recklessly it could endanger innocent bystanders or land me in bed with an ugly girl."<br/><br/><em>Paydirt.</em>Vincent saw the unbridled rage break free with an obvious affront to somebody who was clearly an adored figure within their organization.  Typically whenever somebody gets that pissed off, they seek to do the most damage possible that would be a messy and bloody as possible.  Naturally a straight powerful blow to the nose would do just that.  In all of his years of street fighting, Vincent prides himself in not once ever having his nose broken.  It was practically a medal of honor to him.  Most facial injuries healed seamlessly, but a broken nose always looked a little off no matter how good the doctor who reset it was.  Vincent was going to be damned if he would allow a prick like Hendrix to take that away from him.  He watched as the heavy handed blow game for him in a straight shot with all the weight of the man behind it.  At the very last second, Vincent threw his head forward.  Instead of meeting soft cartilage, the relatively fragile bones in Hendrix's fingers impacted the comparatively thick frontal bone in Vincent's forehead.  It was no contest.  Amongst the thud that seemed to resonate inside his skull, he could clearly hear the delicate bones in Hendrix's fist all but shatter.  The man howled in pain while clutching his fist, which would only elicit the curiosity of his partner in crime.<br/><br/>Vincent felt Slim shift a bit to see what had happened while his vision was obstructed by the man he held in place.  Hanging his head as if dazed from the blow, he waited until Slim moved right where he wanted him.  Once he felt the gentle brush of expelled air on his neck, Vincent rolled his body like a serpent turning his frame into a makeshift whip that caused momentum to build up along his body.  Though instead of the crack the end of a leather whip makes as it exceeds the speed of sound, the crack that followed Vincent's impersonation had been a result of the back of his head slamming against Slim's face.  The resulting impact caused the man's grip to loosen as he reeled from the sudden pain allowing Vincent to twist free of the hold.  Slim clearly knew a thing or two about disciplined fighting and he knew that his only real opportunity would be in the next few moments before he had a chance to fully recover his senses.<br/><br/>The moment he freed himself, Vincent lifted his foot and brought it down at an angle that aimed to kick in Slim's knee in a similar fashion that had been done to Mr. Beefy minutes earlier.  Knowing better than to resist it, Slim caught it on the back of his knee going with the bend and otherwise doing no damage.  So Vincent put more weight behind it and forced Slim into a kneel before winding up to deliver a punch to his temple.  The need of keeping him pinned in place made the swing somewhat awkward, but he leaned into it to compensate.  As was expected, Slim intended to take the punch and move with it to lessen the overall impact.  It would have worked too had he been more aware of his surroundings and realized at the last moment that instead of a tightly closed fist, Vincent struck him with a stiff wrist that slammed his head hard against the masonry warehouse immediately next to them.  Where a more rigid posture would have made a punch hurt more, it would have at least minimized the ease at which his head impacted the hard wall.  There was the harsh sound of impact and Slim was out for the count, the side of his skull bleeding where the skin broke upon impact.<br/><br/>Vincent turned to see Hendrix take an awkward off-handed swing at him which was easily avoided leaving him with a wide opening.  It had been a gift that he could not refuse.  Cupping his fist in his other hand, he brought an elbow around to meet the vulnerable attacker right in the area framing the outer portion of the man's eye hoping to break the zygomatic bone there.  He felt the it give way and Hendrix dropped to the ground and immediately began snoring.  Then he turned his gaze upon Red who had finally gathered himself enough to stand, but seeing what had happened to the others caused him to hesitate.  Vincent on the other hand did not.<br/><br/>Charging before Red had a chance to find his center, he delivered a series of powerful blows that targeted every opening he could find.  Try as he might, the larger man couldn't defend them all and was overwhelmed by attacks that struck his throat, eyes, solar plexus, groin, and anywhere else that Vincent deemed a target.  When it came to matters of life and death, especially when being mugged in a dark alley, there was no room for honor.  Only survival.  The man handled the blows as well as could be expected, but he was rapidly getting worn down until finally a strong right cross to the temple put him to sleep.  Vincent stood there for a few moments trying to catch his breath.  As if fighting wasn't exhausting enough, his injured ribs made his chest feel tight.  He walked over to Mae and knelt next to her to inspect any injuries.  The sap had hit her hard, but the weapon was one that was not known to be lethal.  Still, one cannot be to safe when it comes to head and neck injuries.  He tried everything he could to rouse her, even going so far as doing the cheesy prince charming kiss on the lips.  Once that didn't wake her, he felt relatively sure there was nothing he could do that would work.  He would need to take her to Dani just to be safe.  First, he would need to catch his breath since it was likely he would need to carry her.<br/><br/>Vincent pondered for a moment to do with the Wah Ching goons, knowing that killing them had the very real chance of landing him in prison while at the same time giving the organization something to rally behind for another attempt on his life.  Then again, these men were basically weapons that had been used on him and it is unwise to leave enemy weapons whole enough where they can be used against you once more.  So Vincent grabbed the baseball bat and set about 'disarming' the Wah Ching lackeys by breaking their wrists and knees.  Sure, they'd recover, but those were the types of injuries that tended to leave a lasting mark on one's performance.  They'd be able to live well enough, but would be at a severe disadvantage should they try to get into another fight.<br/><br/>Making sure to wipe his prints off the bat, he tossed it next to one of the unconscious forms for a night watchman or worker to find.  Eventually.  To remove the last bit of evidence that linked him to the scene, he pocketed the broken radio then he moved to Mae and scooped her up into his arms, wincing from the pain in his chest, taking a moment to steady himself before walking the several hundred yards to The Gamble.<br/><br/>By the time he made it to the base of the loading ramp, his lungs were on fire as were every muscle in his body and face.  He felt beyond exhausted.  The modest gradient of the ramp could have been Mount Everest with as difficult it felt the climb up it would have been.  It was everything he could do to keep from collapsing to the ground, but he still managed to call out even if his voice was weak.  Hopefully it would carry through the ship well enough for somebody to hear.  "Dani?  Griff?  Help!"<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Lao Peng You - Old Friend