1 January, 2000

Dear Nexxus visitor,

I meant to get this up sooner for the holiday(s), but I've been doing a whole bunch of things lately so I was really preoccupied. I wrote a great portion of this fic when I was with my brother in Scotland during my break from classes. Being with my oniisan reminded me of what love really is, and I want you all to know that I love you very much. Your continued support of The Nexxus and my writing means a great deal to me as a person and a writer; so I thought the best way to thank you was to do so through my fan-fiction. ~Reaches through the monitor and hugs the visitors~.

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The sleeping figure, hunched over himself and a bottle of Johnny Walker Black Label grunted, allowing a small line of drool to escape his thin lips. Billy Kane let out a loud snore before collapsing against the shredded plywood of the floor, the amber liquid spilling out of its glass confines. The warm, heavily-fermented drink inched across the floor, slowly pooling into his cupped palms.

"Shit!" He exclaimed groggily, luminescent blue eyes glittering with anger through a drunken haze at the sight of his beloved beverage seeping into the woodwork. "Aw, bloody

hell. Not again."

The figure on the tattered velour divan stirred before a thin, pale arm reached up to an aching forehead. Tendrils of lime-green hair inched over the cushions, then cascaded down onto the splinters of the floor, gathering some of the dust into their softness. The sylph like, beautiful Lily Maguire arched her back, ascending into a seated position as her gentle almond eyes caught sight of her collapsed brother.

"Bill, how much did you drink last night, luv?" Her voice was sweet and gentle, tinctured slightly with an analytical cockney drawl. Her visage emanated waves of concern towards her sibling; dark eyes shining fiercely, yet softly onto his slackened expression.

"Depends. How many guys did you fuck last night?"

"Brings the cash in for you to piss away in a bottle."

Billy Kane sighed defeatedly and looked up at his sister, azure irises threatening to spill over with inebriated tears. His face blushed a deep, shameful scarlet which matched the patriotic colours of his bandanna before he allowed the salty droplets to caress the day-old stubble.

"We do what have to, Lil....I can't help what I've become. I never wanted..." The sentence was cut off mid-syllable when his sister approached him, kneeled, and put her arms about him before pulling him close. Despite Billy's vagrant smell and Lily's state of dress, the embrace persisted without either one shattering its fragility, each sibling clinging to the other as if they were the last two beings on the earth.

"I know, Billy. I don't quite fancy being upped by some bloke right near every night. And I know that no matter much you and Duck love each other, he can't pay you what you deserve," she whispered, kissing his cheek. "We both deserve better than this, but we have to settle for now. It's the only way we can get through this."

"Love you, sis," he sighed, reluctant to break out of his sisters' embrace. "Don't worry about money now; I got a job tonight at Duck's and he said he'll be able to pay me back all the quid he owes me, and then some."

"This is a first, the Duck King with money?" Lily tilted her head to the left and narrowed her dark eyes quizzically, searching her brother's bloodshot corneas for verification. Usually the dancing disc jockey, whose techno-rave hall was occupied by hundreds of inebriated, intoxicated children, was flat broke from equipment fees as well as the mortgage on the club itself. There was rarely any left over to pay the bartender or bouncer, much less give Duck something to fill out on his tax returns. Yet, the young prostitute was well aware of her brother's relationship to the man, and never said much when Billy returned with an empty wallet and a blank expression.

"Yeah, something about 'bringing in the Geese', or whatever that means. By his tone, this 'Geese' sounded like an important bloke with cash," he replied before letting loose a loud, juicy belch. Lily backed away and daintily wafted the fetid air away from her nose, a large grin planted on her immaculately pink lips, soon to be obscured by the cheap rouge she wore.

The sun continued to rise through the dusty windowpanes, the amber ocean on the floor continued to ripple and undulate like the skin of a lover, and the wallpaper peeled audibly, causing both siblings to stare at the yellowing spider webs of glue which bound the edges to the sheet rock. All of a sudden, the thick pattern of faded periwinkle daises bent double and landed in the puddle of whiskey, soaking up a sough, brown, wet halation in its centre.

The siblings stared at it dumbly, as if it was a lover shot dead in the heat of passion. Then, Lily's silvery laugh began to intoxicate the air: a high-pitched, but gentle chortle thick with life and pleasure. It was a laugh that breathed the moment of intimacy between itself, her brother, and the crumpled, drenched wallpaper that meant nothing to either of them. Her own giggling was soon joined by the heavy, yet tender guffaw of her brother; a laugh which refused to surrender as if were injected with self-assertion and the need to survive.

"Well, there goes our luxury, Lil!" Billy cried, his eyes flooding with tears of sheer amusement. "Along wiv ev'ry bloody thing we've worked for!"

"I'll drink to that, gov'nah!" She replied, picking up the booze bottle and downing the remaining quarter of it before pounding her chest to ease the fire. "Down wiv the crown, down wiv the wallpapah!" Their cockney accents added largely to the humour of the moment, as their British upbringing taught them to behave with the air of a civil person, and not an uncouth piglet. They often thought of their foster mother and father, who were bred with royal-blue blood in their veins and yet, somehow managed to fail in instilling similar virtues within their adopted offspring. They had deserted the good Duke and Duchess when they were both sixteen, pawning some of his lordship's snuffboxes to finance their one-way ticket to Southtown.

"Lily-luv, you shouldn't drink before you go to work. It's bad for the customers," said Billy, removing the empty bottle from his sister's grasp before throwing it over shoulder. It tinkled on the floor behind him, rendering its smooth unity into sharp, painful fragments. He turned his head and stared at the small electric clock which ticked off the noon hour with a muted buzz. "Speaking of which, I promised I would be at Duck's by now. Gotta skate, luv!" Billy pecked her on the cheek and ran out the front door, tying his bandanna over his cropped blond hair as he went, two pieces of which would always fall into his eyes.

The narrow alleyway, littered with greasy strips of paper and garbage buckets soon widened into the Southtown marketplace that bustled with commerce. Bakeries, liquor stores, and street vendors threw open their doors and shutters, infusing the midday air with their intoxicating aromas. Billy Kane wrinkled his nose as he ran past these places of business, not at the food, but at the sour money being exchanged at every turn and corner. Money which was flaunted in front of his sister's and his own face on a daily basis; money which was in every wallet in Southtown but their own. He had no reservations when he reached out and snatched the beverages off the aluminum counter of a hotdog vendor's cart before raising his middle finger at the paying couple.

"Thank ya very much, mates!" He cried, sprinting off further into the busy city's districts. The Duck King's neon sign, complete with deactivated flashing bulbs loomed nearby, the smoked glass obscuring the inside of the bi-level club. Reaching into his overall's pocket, Billy produced the key and unlocked the door before pushing his way inside the expansive hall.

"Ducky? I brought you a present, you bastard." The can of beer, still perspiring from the vendor's icebox was thrust out, a muscular hand clamped about it.

"Billy! You always did know how to put a smile on my face." The violet mohawked, pierced, and sunglass-wearing frame of the Duck King sprung out from behind the sticky wood of the bar, arched gracefully in the air, and landed in a perfect headstand five feet away from his best friend. Quickly righting himself, he gathered Billy's muscular form into his arms before pressing his lips to his captive's and sliding his tongue in between the pale, thin lips which had begun to reciprocate. The kiss became more passionate as Duck pressed his growing erection against his employee's, slowly grinding both of their organs together until gentle moans escaped their throats. "So, is that your bo staff, or are you just happy to see me?"

Billy broke the kiss and gasped as he felt his insides liquefy, then empty out into his overalls, coating the denim with a thick, warm layer of his own essence. Tilting his head back in the throes of his pleasure, his cropped blond hair was exposed as the bandanna, British insignia and all, fell to the ground with a satiated sigh. A sudden warmth spread out from the Duck King's own pants, mingling with the semen released by his best friend until the afterglow subsided, and the embrace was broken. It was casual sex, and neither boy thought anything more about it; such things were commonplace in their time-tested relationship.

"I don't know, Duck; my bo staff has seen better days," said Billy as he removed his formidable weapon from the sheath strapped to his back. The once smooth, pipe like exterior of yesteryear was gone. In its stead were countless injuries bandaged with sports tape, large nicks and scratches from past encounters with armed foes, and the sticker given to him by his sister, which read: "Have a nice day....asshole!" in yellow bubble lettering. Billy Kane twirled the weapon about, making several thrusts and parries before he assumed his fighting stance. The Duck King clapped in approval and grinned wildly. The fighter obviously was well-conditioned, and would be most adept at repelling the unruly masses. Even though the club was located in the broken districts of Southtown, to the proprietor it was still a respectable establishment.

The mohawked prince of breakdancing peered at his best friend from behind the purple rims of his sunglasses before pushing them back upon the bridge of his nose. His fingers flew up to his left earlobe and toyed absentmindedly with the small silver rings and studs, his mouth slightly parted such that Billy could see the barbell glistening with his spit. The piercing clicked against Duck's teeth when he closed his mouth and grasped his best friend's hand, hurrying the young fighter up a nearby flight of stairs.

"Why didn't you tell me you needed a new pipe, Bill? I bought you a cool one with the money Geese gave me!" He exclaimed happily; the cracked, beer-sticky stairs squeaked as they ascended to the uppermost level of the rave hall. Opening a locked door marked "PRIVATE" in black lettering, Duck displayed what had to be the most expensive staff and outfit Billy Kane had ever seen in his life. An armament and matching outfit laid out neatly upon the dance king's expansive bed.

The bo itself was similar to a triple nunchaku: three metallic bars closely linked together by a single yet durable black chain. Each bar could be secured to its brothers by the flick of the user's wrist, and uncoupled just as easily to attack targets from afar. Beside it lay a pair of black leather overalls, a midnight-blue velvet shirt, and a narrow black necktie; all of them seemed to glisten with one word: wealthy.

"What's this then, Ducky?" Asked Billy, his luminous azure irises widening to devour the image of what he would be that night. "Why the expensive clothing? Where are the window dressers, the shady characters?"

"When I introduce you to Mr. Geese, I don't want him to see the blotch of come in the front of your pants, my friend." He sipped his beer and looked expectantly at his bouncer, shooting a lopsided grin to the perplexed visage staring at the clothes, or to his crotch, Billy wasn't sure of which one.

It was always difficult to tell what the Duck King was thinking, as he always operated behind those sunglasses. Rare was the time he would remove them from the bridge of his nose; even during sex with his best friend, they remained in place; their raven, yet amicable gaze never faltered. Perhaps he covered his own expressive irises to shield the others from his true radiance; that life-electricity was at its most pure form when it coursed through the veins of the Duck King's body. Such power couldn't be harnessed by even the most noble of humans; the sight of his best friend's neon yellow irises nearly sent Billy into catatonia, but the euphoria the club owner's eyes brought was worth the price tag attached.

"And what about the state of your pants, my friend? Certainly that white splotch of yours isn't appropriate to flash to the man who is bankrolling your club," Billy mocked, manipulating his cockney accent to the fullest.

"Billy....the reason I'm having you dress up is because I don't think we're ever going to see each other again after tonight," replied Duck, removing his sunglasses and tucking them into his pocket before gazing into his best friend's cyan pools.

"Wha...? What do you mean, Duck? What did you do?" His tone was angry, betrayed, inquisitive, and elated all at once. The fact that he was unable to process so many emotions at once, coupled with the steady, yet downcast gaze of his best friend's yellow irises tore deeply into his heart; a hand carved of frost mercilessly wrenching his heart about. "Please....tell me..." For the first time since he and Lily had left their posh lives in London, Billy Kane felt the heated tears wash over his cheeks.

"You're my best friend in this life and the others which may follow it.....and to see you hurt so much financially for working with me in this shitty place breaks my heart. After what you and Lily have been through, you both deserve a life that will take better care of you. From now on, you'll be working as Mr. Howard's bodyguard, and Lily will work as a card dealer in his casino; she'll never have to sell her body and you'll never have to go broke again."

"Fuck Geese! I want to stay with you, mate!" Billy released a choked sob, before finding himself in his best friend's arms, clinging onto the man's windbreaker as if it were the last tangible thing in the world. "Bloody hell, I didn't come this far to leave you! And Lily wouldn't want this either! She may have to sell herself, but she's a good girl....and only the best girls don't.....they don't....get sick...." His body shook with violent spasms; somehow his blunt fingernails managed the render the back of the Duck King's jacket to jagged, anguished ribbons.

Silence held both men in cold arms; Duck in the vise of regret and Billy in the clasp of anguish. They held each other tightly, the thought of their uncertain lives in their separate futures solidifying the embrace; chills ran through the young fighter and coursed into the warm body of the breakdancer. Their fingers sought cohesiveness as they ran down the articles of clothing, stopping only to unfasten buttons and uncouple zippers; their overalls and parachute pants landing in a multi coloured heap. Despite the Duck King's lithe, frail-looking frame, he managed to scoop Billy's musculature into his arms and deposit him on the soft mattress before knocking the expensive bo and attire onto the polished, yet boot-scoffed floor. They lay atop the covers, caressing each other's delineation.

"Duck.....please....," he whimpered when he felt his best friend's mouth gently bite his left nipple, flicking his tongue over the taut bud as if it were made of salty candy. He soon found his own fingers caressing the dancer's spiked hair, enjoying the sticky-stiff feel of the dried gel adhering to his own fingers. The marmoset sunlight filtered through the clear panes of Duck's picture window splayed on the violet of his mohawk, illuminating the garish colour and making it all the more bewitching to look at. They exchanged reassuring kisses; tongues sliding in and out of one another's mouth, seeking the other before twining itself carefully about each other as if it were a serpent protecting its lover.

Billy felt himself snuggle closer to the wiry breakdancer, wanting to seek out and uncover the protection afforded to him. His best friend's feline eyes threw a gentle gaze into the bright azure irises, soothing their trembling fear with his own electricity, his own inner fire. Duck's long fingers and tattooed hands savoured the muscular physique of his friend's back; they caressed each quivering, uncertain muscle with a reassuring energy that brought them into a deeper relaxation. Clutching Billy tightly in his arms, the duo fell asleep as the digital, red numbers of the wall clock ticked off the hours into the night.

He focused a pair of shadowed eyes at the nearest girl, who was wearing a pair of silver hot shorts which glittered with sequins and an albino fur coat, no doubt the gift of her pimp. Her heavily-painted lips and eyes spoke the two words she lived by to the fierce man sitting in the car: money and lust, but money would always come first. She twirled a strand of Marilyn Monroe blond hair around her little finger before blowing a large, pink bubble in his face with her wad of chewing gum. The pearl orb jiggled before Geese's face momentarily, then exploded, sending streams of spittle onto his tailored suit.

He smiled curtly, then snarled. "Do you know a girl by the name of 'Lily Maguire'," he asked, his voice beginning to rise to shouting level.

"Depends, sugar," her response was detached; her employment was clearly the only work she was able to find and her unemotional, automatic response indicated that it removed any remaining vestiges of intelligence.

"How much does it depend?"

"One-fifty an hour, an' you look like a gorgeously rich man baby," she drawled.

Geese turned to face his two bodyguards whom he had scoured the underworld streets of Tokyo for. Hopper sat patiently in the seat across from his employer, his bald head, trimmed mustache, and mirrored black sunglasses blending in with the leather interior. Ripper, by far the more elegant assassin of the two, sat adjacent to Geese and reached into his pocket, removing his employer's chequebook.

"No, Ripper. You don't pay these women with cheques." With a nod of his head, causing a few stands of his long, jet black hair to fall in front of his eyes. He reached into a coat pocket and withdrew a thick, green billfold, counting out the appropriate sum before handing it to Geese.

"Thank you, Ripper. My dear, three hundred dollars is enclosed in my hand; three hundred dollars which I would love to give you in exchange with your cooperation. Now," he said tauntingly, waving the substantial stack of twenties in front of her eyes. "Where can I find Lily Maguire?"

"Oh! Ya wanted Lily! Ah, she's a really sweet girl who shouldn't be doing what she does." For a moment, the prostitute grew distant and pensive, as if the name of her co-worker gave her the brain power of a toy poodle. "She usually works Rose Alley, which is down the street to your left." She pointed, hundreds of gold bangles sliding down her arm to collide with the hump of her wrist bone. The prostitute held out her hand and made a few rapid motions, gesturing wildly with her fingers.

"Thank you," grumbled Geese, handing over the smaller billfold before clapping his hands, signaling his chauffeur. Suddenly, a gunshot reverberated through the slum. The dead body of a wino fell to the ground, blood coursing out of a hole in his head. He twitched for a moment, then fell silent, his muscles locking up with rum and rigor mortis. Hopper tucked his smoking Desert Eagle into a holster slung over his arm.

"Went after the hubcaps, boss," Hopper muttered as he leaned back into the pliant leather seat.

"Good work, Hopper. Crane, to Rose Alley." He shot the bevy of shocked prostitutes a shadowed grin before rolling up the window, watching their over painted bodies disappear far behind him. It was but a few moments before the black stretch coach pulled beside the alley's entryway; the engine idling as Ripper moved to get out. Stretching his feline frame, his thin body cruised through the alleyway, the throw blades in the holsters secured to the lining of his jacket offering him protection from the nefarious members of various drug cartels, gang members, and vagrants. He reached up and ran his fingers through his long, dark hair, brushing it out of his eyes; passive expression narrowing into a smile when he saw the emerald gem which now belonged to Geese Howard.

Lily Maguire smiled and brushed the lapels of her frayed black trench coat, exposing her midnight blue velveteen bustier and a black tube-top she repurposed as a skirt, which barely covered her fishnet-encased thighs. Her brightly-coloured hair framed her face and cascaded down her neck, shoulders, and back as if it were a lion's mane woven from emeralds. Lily's almondine eyes focused on Ripper's smooth face, then traveled down to his crotch; with experience derived only from her trade, the knowledge that his organ was a mere six inches and somewhat slender became available to her.

"Looking for a date, mate?" The cockney accent was impassioned with Bourbon and infused with a firebrand's lust. "Or maybe you'd fancy a bit of British 'hospitality'?" She walked up to him, her knee-high, stiletto-heeled boots clicking on the shanks of broken pavement before she touched his lower lip and took his earlobe into her mouth, chewing it slightly. "For a catch like you, I don't charge much."

"What is your name?" His tone was clipped and formal, even in sensual situations. His would-be-lover walked back and held her arms open, smiling. Ripper's lips remained locked in a determined scowl, despite the desire growing harder against his leg. "You want this girl, but orders are orders," his rationale warned, buzzing imperatively in his head.

"Missus Robinson."

"Well, 'Missus Robinson', your brother Billy Kane, is in considerable danger," Ripper's voice was smooth, even, and insistent. The mirrored lenses flashed a momentary reflection of her obvious alarm. Taking her arm into his hand, he hauled her compliant form towards the limo, and slid her directly into Geese Howard's lap. Lily stared at him momentarily before an expression of rage crossed her face as she lunged at the man in the black suit, fingernails outstretched as if to rend his very eyes to ribbons within their sockets.

"Where's Billy?! You said he was hurt, you fucking jerkoff!!" The thin, angry, flailing wrists were easily repelled by the shady-eyed man; the delicate frame so easily thrown against Hopper and restrained. A true feline creature of the night, Lily leaned forward as far as she could and spat a shining globule directly into her captor's face.

Wiping himself off as best he could with a handkerchief, Geese grinned smugly at her, the tendons in his throat and body contracting his muscles threateningly. He took a deep breath, shuddered, and pressed the intercom button. "Crane, take the young Miss. Maguire to her brother." The expensive car's headlights slid out of the alleyway and surged forward, racing towards the skyway leading into central Southtown and Lily's brother.

The Duck King stood behind his prize bouncer in front of the full length mirror, buttoning the last button on the blue shirt before giving his best friend a tight squeeze. His gift had been broken down into its triple-nunchaku form and inserted into three loops that held it tightly against Billy's pant leg. "There," he whispered into a passive ear. "Geese'll die in his treads when he sees you, Billy." With lightning-fast reflexes born out of years of continuous dancing, he planted a gentle kiss on the fighter's neck, then cheek, then the corner of his mouth.

"Yeah, smashing." Despite the ungrateful tone and removed countenance, Billy was actually surprised at his own reflection. Since waking up in his best friend's arms, he went through great lengths to conceal his excitement at the future promised him. "Who is this Geese, anyway? Name sounds rich enough, and it comes with food and a place to sleep other than the floor. Still.....Duck.....," his thoughts caved in at the tender caress of his friend, as if the breakdancer were the best man and he the groom at a wedding. "I don't want to lose you, Ducky," Billy said suddenly, shivering hopelessly at his own words.

The steady pair of hands which had bathed and dressed him for the evening ceased their ministrations and pulled him close. Billy felt his insides go numb and his knees grow weak. He wanted to bury his face deep into his best friend's fluorescent attire, to kiss each spike of the mohawk, to take each of Duck's electric skin cells and bid them farewell one last time with his own body. Billy Kane wanted his salty tears to be lapped up by the pierced tongue then brought to the attention of his own taste buds; he desired to feel everything with his only best friend, yet was incapable of synthesising every sensation into a few hours. For it would be at the stroke of midnight, he knew, that a goose in an elongated chariot would be coming for to carry him away from familiarity and into uncertainty. "Swing low," Billy thought miserably.

"Come here," the dancer grasped his hand and guided him towards the bed before seating him on the rumpled covers. "When I said "not see you again", Billy, I meant that we wouldn't be able to see each other as often because the job I've signed you on for will require you to protect someone nearly around-the-clock; you can always come see me on your days off. Geese has two other assistants, but they work mostly for his syndicate's security, rather than his own. Billy, you're going to get the life that you deserve....and you won't be some British lord's lapdog for it. You deserve better than to work in this dump...shit, man, you can kick serious ass if you wanted to ever enter one of those fighting tournaments. I've seen you keep order in and outside the club, and I'm not even able to pay you for all that you do."

"That's because you're my best friend....and I like being with you."

"I know....but do you like living in that shack, waking up every morning wondering why you're still alive? And what about Lily? The girl is an angel, and she sells herself when I can't pay you." Golden, shining tears slipped from the Duck King's feline irises when he regarded his best friend. "I want you to be happy, dammit."

"I...I am....," Billy felt his own voice grow strong, as if he were possessed by a poltergeist of strength. "But if you ever leave me....it's orf wiv yor 'ead, mate."

A knock at the door, an obscene word, the sound of hopping about. The rave was underway below them, the loud music lulling the patrons to a techno-induced malarial fever. It was common to hear whoops of joy, elation, tristesse, and distress from the club three floors below, but the soundproofing ensured that the noise would be silenced. This stamping was of a different nature: it was closer and it wrought of pain, the cry of one's foot which had been ground into the floorboards by a stiletto-heeled boot. The pounding was punctuate by a shrill scream and a shattering of the glass transom above the door. Through the painful shards somersaulted Lily, who landed perfectly on her feet, remarkably unscathed. All her life she had lived by her brother's fighting side, so she was bound to learn some tricks of the trade. Billy knew that although she would walk the streets like any of the other prostitutes, she would not tolerate abuse. Flecks of glass caressed her emerald-coloured tresses with crystalline raindrops as the door was thrown open behind her. She wheeled about, back arching, breasts thrust forward as if she were amassing her diminutive physical strength.

The Duck King stood up to greet the dark-eyed man in the tailored suit, a wide smile painted on his face; sophistry to his inner feelings. He walked towards Geese, hand outstretched, and was instantly slapped aside by one of the man's large fists, causing Billy to rise up and draw his bo staff in protest.

"So, you're Billy Kane?" He growled, a bluish, violent energy surrounding his fists. Billy reached for his weapon and assembled it with a flick of his wrist, twirling it defensively. "Most impressive, for my new bodyguard and waitress. You do an excellent job, Duck King." Reaching into his own pocket, he removed several large wads of money and tossed them atop the covers as if he were recompensing a whore for a night of good service.

Just then, The Duck King scrabbled to his feet and flew into Billy's arms, kissing him passionately on the lips. Lily began to giggle as she always did when she saw her big brother kiss another man, yet Geese's rage only visibly increased. A firm hand on the fighter's shoulder hauled him away from his best friend, tears in both of their eyes.

"Farewell, Billy," Duck thought, allowing the full effects of the concussion he sustained to overtake his faculties. His lithe form sinking down on the cash-laden mattress was one the last image of the Duck King which Billy saw before he and his sister were stuffed into the limousine and into their uncertain futures.