He had let his ego get in the way again. Usually, it wasn't a problem. Usually, he was able to get himself out of these kind of situations. Not today, though. Today was just not his lucky day. Kahane was stark raving mad at this point and intent on replacing the blood running through Otaku's veins with lead. As civilians screamed in horror at the blood-covered man, he slid across the counter and down onto his knees, ignoring the pain that came with hitting the floor.
On his knees, Otaku checked the ammunition of his pistol, his shaking hands nearly dropping the instrument. Most of the time, he had never bothered to check. Operators were able to code ammunition right into the gun, allowing for nearly unlimited ammo. But, Otaku wasn't lucky this time around. The operator was asleep somewhere.
Two clips left. Hopefully, it was enough. If not, well, he was screwed. Kahane was one of the best martial artists aboard the barge.
Back against the countertop, still on his knees, he heard the door slam open and Kahane's coarse voice, nails on a chalkboard, ring throughout the convenience store. Ach! He sprung out from behind the countertop, rolling to a knee, and firing twice Kahane. The behemoth of a man was hit twice, first in the leg and then the shoulder but he still kept on going, eyes furrowed, teeth bared in a feral smile, a 12-gauge shotgun grasped firmly in both hands.
Otaku cursed under his breath as the old man fired twice, pellets upon pellets descending upon the younger operative. He leapt out of the way, rolling across the floor as he landed to keep the damage to his RSI to a minimum. As he rolled to a knee, he fired but missed and watched as Kahane's foot connected with his jaw, sending him flying and into the cereal aisle of the store. He hit the floor hard on his back, trying his best not to yell from probably adding a concussion of some sort to his now long list of injuries.
It was now that he wondered if perhaps he should've told Eleutherophobia the whole story about Kahane. How Kahane had been the one who had awakened him, how Kahane had taken him under his wing and taught the tips and tricks of the Matrix, how Kahane had been there when he had finally conquered the jump program, how Kahane had called him the "son he had never had". Now, that didn't matter. One was a Machinist, the other a Zionist.
Of course, there was regret there in Otaku's mind; and sorrow, and pain, and loss. But, he had a job to do, to make sure that Kahane did not make it out of the Matrix alive today. This thought brought him back to reality and he realized that Kahane now stood above him, revealed in his glory. The behemoth of a man, nearly seven feet tall, pointed the barrel of his shotgun at his former pupil's face, his lips curving up into a smile, and was about to say something before the lips opened in a wordless scream of pain.
Somehow, somewhere, Otaku fortunately had pulled out his combat knife from beneath his black half-duster and stabbed the blade into Kahane's ankle with his free right hand. His left hand grabbed the Beretta, swinging up into the air to face Kahane's chest, and fired four times. The four bullets ripped through leather, skin, bone, and organ, dropping the old man to his knees, hands clutching aimlessly for something that wasn't there, for something he wanted back, the young man who had once been the only "son he had ever known".
Otaku aimed the pistol at Kahane's head from his prone position and fired, watching as his former friend finally collapsed to the ground, the bullet hole in his head beginning to leak a pool of blood around the behemoth's body.
Finally. It was done. He stood up, using his still-shaking hands to support his weight, and looked at the blood-covered corpse. With a sigh, he left the store as though nothing had happened other than perhaps a quick fight in the line for groceries with some overly aggressive customer.
