CHAPTER SEVEN
HEADACHE
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BY THE TIME THE DUO HAD REACHED THE SECOND TRAIN CAR, TANGERINE HAD BECOME MORE DISHEVELLED. He'd discarded of his royal blue tie, pocketed it inside his blazer, and unbuttoned a few on his baby blue shirt.
He huffed to Estela behind him. "We've been all down this bloody train and this cunt's nowhere to be fuckin' found!"
Head still turned to glance behind him as he walked, Tangerine stepped through the automatic door. However, his next step was short-lived as his path was halted with a bump into the following door.
"The fuck!" Tangerine looked down at the door, to find a cane protruding from the door, preventing it from fully closing, causing it to stay in a repetitive loop of opening, but not being able to fully open, and closing, but not being able to fully close. He peered through the window, eyes landing on the great stack of luggage preventing the door from opening.
He turned around to Black Cat, eyes ablaze. "That fucking motherfucker," he seethed. "Fucking sneaky cunt."
Estela pushed lightly past him to peer down at the obstacle herself, and exhaled heavily. She looked around the carriage, trying to find some resources last-minute.
"Oi, grab me that Momonga," she said in a low voice, pointing towards where a little girl sat in her seat, sleeping head perched on a Momonga plush, along with the show playing away on an iPad placed on the table in front of her.
The moustached man followed through, carefully yet swiftly taking the plush away from the girl's sleeping hold. As he passed it over to Black Cat, who was pulling the Beretta from her blazer, he scrunched his nose at the Momonga. "I still don't understand what the fuck a Momonga is."
As she approached the door, Estela pressed the white-and-blue plush to the muzzle of her firearm. A ringlet of hair fell into her face. "It's just some kids show," she muttered as she pulled the trigger.
Sparks and feathers flew, erupting in the air in a puff of smoke. The luggage spilled out the way of the door, scattering along the floor along with some of their contents, and the automatic door finally zipped open as it should.
With a squeaky "Momonga!" the plush fell limply to the floor, now gutted of its feathery intestines.
Estela kicked away some of the luggage from her path with her black Doc Martens and stepped into the purgatory between carriages one and two, where they should've been with less hassle, but, alas, this is where fate had led them.
"Fuck me," Tangerine mumbled, looking about in awe at the feathers fluttering peacefully down to the floor.
"That's not appropriate," Estela returned, sparing him a glance as she tucked a fly-away out of her face.
The man rolled his eyes, stepping through the door behind her, avoiding the stray luggage strewn about the floor.
Before taking it upon himself to enter Carriage One, Tangerine removed his handgun from his pocket, and pulled off his navy pinstripe blazer. He folded the jacket over the arm carrying the pistol, and sent Black Cat a nod before stepping through. Estela hung back, sort of as a Plan B in case they found Ladybug and he tried to escape by running up the platform.
And good thing she stayed behind, because, as distant pops erupted further down the train, and a familiar-sounding "Twat!" chimed through the carriage, a man in a green jacket dashed through the sliding door.
"Cunt!" Estela growled, pouncing on the Ladybug like the black cat she was. Cat versus bug, who would win?
They rolled around on the floor, Ladybug's hands aiming wildly for Black Cat's face, as hers found his throat, the skin soft and wrinkled around the area.
His eyes began to almost pop out of his head, great pools of chilled blue, like a lagoon. He brought a fist up in a hammering motion to punch uselessly at her tricep, and found her grip unwavering. Once again, he pulled back his arm, fist balled up, but this time when he punched, his knuckles made contact with her jaw.
Upon impact, Black Cat let out a grunt, her entire body following through with the motion and pulling away from Ladybug as she shrunk down in pain.
Ladybug took this opportunity to slide out from under Black Cat's legs, and pull himself into a seated position against the next well. Black Cat was still somewhat dazed, rubbing her jaw; it felt slightly knocked out of place, and, well, that's fucked.
The man brought his knees toward him into his chest, and kicked out with all his power. His white shoes, dirtied a gross grey on the bottom, struck Black Cat in her stomach, winding her even more.
But Black Cat didn't allow this hit to throw her off track. Sure, she was gasping for air, but she picked herself up to her knees. The girl pushed off one knee, using her hand to balance against the floor as she brought her other leg down on Ladybug's face, thick, booted toe-first into his cheek.
Overhead, the speakers chimed, indicating the soon arrival to Shin-Fuji Station.
Once again, Ladybug kicked one of his legs out, aiming for Black Cat's stomach once more. But this time the woman was ready, and took hold of his ankle, softening the blow as it connected with her stomach, for she redirected his energy back towards him, with a knee flying towards his nose.
With a cry upon the impact of his kneecap jabbing into his nose bridge, Ladybug kicked his leg out again, hitting her in the stomach a second time. He brought his hands up to his nose, eyes watering. "The hell, dude!?"
The Shinkansen rolled to a stop, and the door opened up.
Black Cat, with a roar, pounced on Ladybug again, hands grabbing his head, thumbs searching for his eye sockets. The man cried out again, and used his remaining power to push her down, so he was rolling on top. But this manoeuvre had sent them rolling around on the unsanitary tiles of the Shin-Fuji Station platform.
Now below Ladybug, Black Cat brought her hands up to scratch at the man's face, most likely chipping her deep maroon nail polish in the meantime.
"What's your problem, lady?" Ladybug pushed out as he tried to hold Black Cat still beneath him, leaning his neck just out of reach of the cat's claws. "You were on my side with that wolf guy!"
"Plans change!" Black Cat returned through gritted fangs, bringing her knee up to strike repeatedly at Ladybug's inner thigh, threatening closer and closer to where the sun never shines with each hit.
Clenching his jaw to push down the pain, Ladybug pulled a fist back and directed it rapidly into Black Cat's face. She growled as his knuckles collided with her nose, rupturing a blood vessel, and filling her nostrils with a tinny tang.
Black Cat brought her knee up, powering it with as much energy she could muster, as her vision began to grow fuzzy and her head began to pound.
Indicating she'd struck the intended spot, Ladybug squealed, voice raising a couple octaves, and fell off of her. A string of profanities escaped his mouth as he paused for a moment, one hand cradling the affected spot, and the other holding him up on the floor.
Using this moment of vulnerability to his advantage, Black Cat pushed herself up onto her knees and reached into her inner breast pocket. The pads of her fingers met the rough material of the handle, and she wrapped her fingers around it and pulled it out.
In the station, such a public place, using the gun for its intended purpose would be foolish, but that didn't mean she couldn't put it to other use.
While he was still recovering in his vulnerable position, Black Cat used the butt of the gun against Ladybug's shoulder blade, both letting out a grunt upon impact. Ladybug fell to his elbow, his arm not prepared to hold him up.
The man rose himself up momentarily to whip an arm out and hit the firearm out of Black Cat's grip.
"Shit!" She cried, watching the pistol fly through the air, and hit the tiles with a sickening crack.
While she was distracted, Ladybug pulled himself up to his feet and made a break for it, sprinting up the platform and jumping onto the train.
Fuck. Almost a minute.
Black Cat scrambled to retrieve her beloved beretta from the tiles and jumped back onto the Shinkansen, the door clamping shut behind her.
"Fuck," the woman breathed, ringlets dripping into her fuzzy vision.
Her hands hung down by her sides, handgun tapping against her bare, bruised legs as the train began to pick up speed and the woman swayed with the movement.
Metallic liquid dripped onto her lips, and she rose a hand up to tap at the area underneath her nose. When she pulled her two fingers away, she stared at the crimson ichor that glistened in the light.
With a sigh, she used the back of her hand to wipe away the blood, rubbing slightly at her nostril, which sent a shooting pain up her nose.
Black Cat stuffed her Beretta back into her blazer and began trekking up the train.