Yes, I'm alive. . Kinda lol. I was being a lazy-ass for the past few months because school was killer and I just wanted to sleep (a lot.) BUUUT then I realized it was May already and that I definitely need to update before I totally forget to. So, here's a much delayed chapter for those of you that are still reading the story! Hope there's still some fans out there lol.

Note: This is a somewhat simplified version of Noir Episode 4: Sound of Waves. (I skipped episode 2, for those of who didn't read my notes before.) I don't really understand the whole complexity of who killed who for what, so I'll just focus on who Noir killed and be done with it.

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Chapter 3: The Big Blue Sea

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"Wonderful party, don't you think?" Nataku murmured with a content sigh.

Kyoru nodded and took a sip of his champagne, making a face as the carbonation went straight to his nose. He smacked his lips in delight and quickly finished the glass. "Bloody strong stuff, this is," he commented gruffly as he set aside the empty cup, "I won't be surprised if everyone drives home and crashes."

"That's why we all have limos, idiot." Nataku rolled his eyes drowsily.

It was the inauguration of some company's new CEO, but the alcohol had fuzzed the man's mind enough so that he couldn't remember anything beyond that. In any case, it WAS a nice party. All the businessmen were lounging comfortably on the porch of the new CEO's mansion, surrounded by refreshments, flowers and the sound of the waves crashing just a few hundred feet away. The smell of wine and appetizers filled the air as waiters scuttled back and forth, scrambling to refill half-empty wine glasses. In the background, the sun glowed brilliantly in all its noon glory, bathing the partiers with warm, golden light.

"Pardon, monsieur, would you like some more champagne?"

Nataku peeked open one eye. A handsome brunet waiter with bright blue eyes and a cute mustache hovered over their table, holding up a bottle of strong white wine. The businessman blinked, then closed his eyes again. He made a mental note to check the boy out when he was somber. It wouldn't do to flirt if he couldn't even form words correctly.

"Its not more of this strong, fruity stuff, is it?" Kyoru demanded, holding up his empty glass.

"Non, monsieur," the young man replied with a strong French accent, "This is an oriental drink… Much more fluid."

"Ah," Kyoru mumbled, allowing the boy to refill his glass and Nataku's.

The waiter bowed his head and soon left without a word.

Kyoru sniffed suspiciously at his drink, then took a hesitant sip. "Mmm, nice," he mumbled, quickly taking a few large gulps.

Nataku fumbled for his own drink and carefully took a sip. He grinned at the burning warmth that wormed its way into his gut. "We should get the boss to let us come here more often," he murmured, inhaling the sweet, honeyed scent of the champagne. "We get food, wine..." Opening one eye, he reached out and pinched the ass of a short waiter that happened to be ambling by, "and lots of cute little waiters."

The wild-haired boy paused and shot a warning look over his shoulder. His red eyes were cold and dead, showing neither anger nor surprise. Not a bit deterred, however, Nataku only gave the young waiter a saucy wink and chuckled as the boy was called away by a fat man in the corner.

THUD.

Nataku jolted and glanced to his right.

Kyoru had collapsed face-down on the table, his glass still upright and empty in his hand.

"Poor bastard," Nataku observed sadly, finishing the rest of his drink, "He never could hold his alcohol." He closed his eyes in bliss as he relished the wine's taste. Then, a second later, his head collapsed on the table with a dull thunk.

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"Daddy!" The loud call turned quite a few heads. A young teenager with a freckled face and curly red hair waved joyfully from the end of the terminal, a massive grin on her face. She ran through the bustling crowd and latched herself to the body of a stern-faced man in a gray suit. "You came!"

SLAP.

Stunned, the girl stepped back, clutching her cheek and fighting tears. A few curious travelers stopped to stare.

"You're supposed to stay in New York." The man's tone was quiet and deadly.

The girl gave a small, trembling sob. "B-But… its my birthday! I wanted to see you!"

"You know how busy I am!" snapped the man as he grabbed her arm and manhandled her down the hallway. His grip was strong enough that it left bruises on her skin.

The girl simply hung her head and followed, now limp as a rag. No one dared to stop and help her. The look on her father's face was enough to make even the security guards wince.

"Good morning, sir. Good morning, Rosalyn," saluted the chauffeur the moment they stepped outside. He was quick to open the door to the white limo waiting for them.

The father grunted something as he shoved Rosalyn in the car, snapping at the driver to get them to the nearest hotel. "I'll book a room for you," he growled at his daughter.

The girl remained silent and unmoving by his side. A slight flinch was the only sign that she even heard him.

Meanwhile, a pair of curious scarlet eyes watched them from a distance. Yami cocked his head as the limo drove away. Though he had no memory of his own family, he was fairly certainly they had treated him better than what he had just witnessed.

"The pigeons aren't that interesting," came an impatient voice from inside, "C'mon, I have to go get a car."

Yami turned his attention back to Seto, who was glaring impatiently at him from the doorway. "I'm coming, I'm coming."

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There are definite perks to being a world-class assassin, Seto mused to himself as he tested the gears of his new car. Even if he didn't have this job, his parents had left enough money for him to last two or three generations. Seto, however, never used any of it. While he doubted he would ever have kids to pass the money off to, depending on his deceased parents' money didn't exactly settle well with his conscious. His father had always been a firm believer that every worthy man should earn his own living. After his family's murder, Seto had decided to take that lesson to heart.

On the other hand, he doubted his father would approve of his present-day job. The thought made the brunet smile mirthlessly.

"Where are we going?" Yami's quiet voice broke his reverie. He was fingering his Eye pendant again, a sign of nervousness.

Seto blinked and suddenly realized that he had left the boy in the dark for the majority of their trip. Admirably, the boy had been a trooper and hadn't asked questions until now. "We're after Jonathan Hammond, the CEO of Arch Corp," he announced, running a hand through his wind-blown hair, "The city isn't far from here, but we're going to stop by my family's old summer home for supplies."

The summer home was a discreet but pretty enough place, consisting of a old white house with red shutters and a mass of ivy growing over its front. Situated right between a long span of beach and the road, it secreted a calm, secluded and surprisingly cheerful atmosphere. There was even a new welcome mat at the door.

Yami watched in surprise as Seto hopped out of the car, grabbed their bags from the trunk and made his way to the house with an uncharacteristic bounce to his steps. The boy hesitated for a minute longer before he quickly scrambled him.

Inside, the house was clean but sparsely furnished, with the air of a place that had been slightly neglected over the years. Seto, however, didn't seem to mind as he tossed their luggage on the nearest sofa and immediately began to sift through their clothes. There wasn't much to go through, despite the fact that the brunet had recently bought Yami some clothes that actually fit him.

Said boy was now peeking over Seto's shoulder with a baffled frown. He had grown used to the assassin's habits over the last few weeks, but this certainly didn't count amongst them.

Seto flashed him a rare, light-hearted smile as he held up two pairs of swimming trunks, a white one for himself, and a red one for Yami. "Let's go to the beach."

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"Here we are," Hammond sighed as he opened the door to the hotel room. His anger had melted away during the ride and had left him with nothing but a splitting headache and a daughter who now refused to speak with him.

Rosalyn brushed past him without a word, hardly glancing at her new surroundings before she threw herself on the plush bed and gave a heavy sigh.

Hammond fought the urge to slap himself. He always had a temper problem, but it had worsened since the divorce and had been constantly fueled by the stress from his job. His doctor had prescribed anti-depressants to calm his severe mood swings, but he rarely took the medication. He was now starting to regret that decision. "Do you like it?" he asked after an awkward moment of silence.

His daughter merely spooned her head in her arms and turned away from him. There was a visible tremor in her shoulders that made her father wince.

Hammond hesitated before stepping into the room and pulling open the blinds to the windows. Bright sunlight suddenly flooded the room, revealing a stunning view of the rest of the town and the coast beyond it. "It has a nice view," he murmured in a lame attempt to quell his own guilt.

An enthusiastic photographer, Rosalyn sat up, a little bit of her old energy sparkling in her eyes. "It does," she agreed quietly.

Hammond nodded, coughing into his hand. "So, uh, how are you and your mother doing?"

Rosalyn looked at him with a small amount of surprise, a smile twitching at the edge of her lips. Ever since the divorce, her parents have refused to speak to one another, but she took comfort in the fact that they still cared about each other in their own secretive way. "We're fine. The condo in New York is really nice 'cause I can see the Empire State Building from my room. I still miss being here though," she admitted, a bit sheepishly.

Hammond felt a wave of relief flood through him and he gave a rare, albeit small, smile. "Well, you can stay all week, if you'd like."

Surprise and delight bloomed on Rosalyn's face; she had expected to be either grounded or sent back home, at best. "Truly?" she squealed as she flung herself at her father. "Thank you, Daddy!"

Hammond smiled as he patted her on the back. When she pulled away, he pulled out his wallet and fished out one of his credit cards. He quickly held it high above his daughter's head as she reached for it eagerly. "Ah-ah-ah! Food only. Remember the last time I let you use this card?"

A giant grin spread across Rosalyn's face as she nodded. It was rare that her father spoiled her like so, and she certainly wasn't about to let the opportunity pass on by. "Thank you, Daddy!" she gushed again as he relented and passed her the card. Kissing her father on the cheek, she quickly grabbed her bag and all but skipped out of the room, yelling over her shoulder that she'll be back before four.

Hammond had to smile a little. While the divorce had been hard and had left him bitter, he desperately missed the young whirlwind that was his daughter. He only wished he didn't have to slap her to realize that the next time.

Beep beep beep.

The CEO frowned and glanced down as he pulled out his phone. It was Capolla, one of his assistant managers. "What?" he snapped as he flipped it open. He had told them repeatedly that he didn't want to be bothered until he got back to headquarters.

"Sir… We think its Setep."

Silence.

Hammond stopped breathing. "Are you certain?" he pressed, a feverish chill running up his spine. "He's the one that killed Kyoru and Nataku?"

"It's the best guess we have." There was a slight hesitation. "And… there are reports that a unlicensed car was spotted maybe twenty miles away at an old house. Should we check it out? "

Hammond rubbed his pounding temple with one hand; if possible, his headache had just gotten worse. "Send out some troops with you. I want that house demolished, understood?"

"Yes, sir."

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Yami had never been to the beach, that much was obvious. He stumbled awkwardly across the sand, distracted by the calls of the seagulls and occasionally jumping from the foamy waves that danced over his feet. Fascinated by the bubbles in the water, he knelt and poked at them with wide-eyed curiosity, dragging his fingers through the wet sand and forming twin rivers of rapids around his wrists. His Eye necklace dipped into the water as he played, prompting the boy to toss it over his shoulder as he began to lift up handfuls of soaked, drippy sand.

Seto watched him with a raised eyebrow from under his sunglasses; Yami never ceased to surprise him. The boy was able to kill a room full of armed men without blinking an eye, and yet here he was, attempting to build the sloppiest sand castle the assassin had ever seen. With a mental shrug, the brunet readjusted his sunglasses and cupped his hands behind his neck. It was rare that he had a moment of peace, and he intended to put it to good use. Tanning seemed like a better idea than building sandcastles anyways.

He must have drifted off to sleep because the next thing he knew, the assassin found himself physically jolting awake. He sat up from his beach chair and looked around with vivid alarm.

Yami looked up from his sand castle and watched him curiously, his brow furrowing in confusion.

Seto flipped himself off the chair and headed over to the back porch, where he promptly got on his knees and pressed one ear to the wooden floor. He could feel faint vibrations under his fingertips, and his sharp ears picked up the sound of distant rumbling. With a colorful curse, he sat back on his heel and ran a hand through his sun-kissed hair. "Shit. Tanks."

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"We have you surrounded! I repeat, we have you surrounded! Come out in peace!" The man's voice cracked over the loudspeaker and echoed through the silence that had settled around the house. There was a low rumble as another tank shifted forward and joined the semi-circle of troops positioned around the lone building.

More silence. A crow cawed from the top of an ailing palm tree.

There was a low chuckle from one of the older men. "Maybe we have the wrong house."

CREEEEAAAAK.

The white door of the house suddenly slid open.

There was a string of curses as everyone tensed and shifted into defense positions, some men dodging behind the open doors of their humvees, others retreating into the safety of the tanks. The sound of guns being cocked suddenly filled the air, and the lone crow quickly took to the air and left the area.

A small figure slid out from behind the door, dressed in red swimming trunks, an oversized Hawaiian shirt and a massive straw hat. A tote bag swung lightly on his shoulder as he headed toward the troops with light, cheerful steps.

The troops stared in blatant confusion.

"What the hell? Its just a kid!" one man hissed to a companion, whom could only shrug helplessly.

The youth paused once he was about twenty feet away, raising the brim of his hat to peer at the confused men with piercing red eyes. The edges of his lips suddenly twisted upward in an eerie smile.

"Holy--!" someone screamed in surprise as the boy suddenly reached in the tote bag and pulled out a pair of matching black guns.

Faster than it seemed humanly possible, the youth darted toward the line of vehicles and began to fire in quick succession, taking down man after man with heart-stopping precision. An immediate shower of bullets was returned in his direction, but by then it was too late; he was already in the midst of the troops, dodging and weaving between individual soldiers as the men scrambled to turn and shoot at the right person.

"Oof!" A gunner went down hard as the boy rammed him hard in the stomach, throwing him off-guard and ripping him from his position behind a humvee door.

The youth quickly grabbed the abandoned gun, flung himself under the car, and began to shoot like a wild man. The rapid rat-tat-tat of machine fire soon filled the air, followed by an array of startled cries and the sound of bodies dropping.

"Take him out, take him out!" the commander screamed from on top of one of the tanks. The tanks themselves were useless at such a close range, and most of them began spinning around in circles as they tried to find a suitable target.

There was an explosion of chaos. Men scrambled to hide themselves and gain their bearings, some to reload and others to aim. The sheer number of bullets flying about turned the air opaque with heavy smoke and turned friendly fire into a deadly enemy force. No one was even sure if they were aiming at their own companions or the youth himself.

Flit. Flit.

One man jerked and suddenly slumped against his humvee door. His companion soon collapsed as well, followed by two drivers. The front windows of the cars began to shatter one by one, showering the startled soldiers with pieces of glass as they scrambled to find this new threat.

"Sniper!" someone screamed, "Sniper! On the second story!"

"Take out the house!"

One of the tanks that hadn't been confused in the fight swiveled its barrel around, firing one massive shot at the top of the house. Its aim was off slightly, but the explosion still ripped off a good chunk of the roof. Another shot, and a fourth of the house was gone, simply ripped to shreds. Pieces of burnt wood began to shower from the sky. More acrid smoke clogged the air and momentarily cut off the tank's view of the damaged house.

Suddenly, a strange, new sound joined the cacophony. The roar of a powerful engine cut through the cries of the men as a flash of red darted through the smoke, followed by another burst of color as the Hawaiian-clad boy threw himself into the car.

"Shoot it!" the commander roared to one of the tanks. "Shoot the damn car!"

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In the days that Yami had spent with Seto, the boy couldn't remember ever being frightened.

But then again, there was a first time for everything.

The youth had barely managed to strap on his seatbelt before Seto stepped on the brake and violently spun the car. The tires screeched in protest and left twin trails of burn marks behind them. Only a few feet from where they had just been, the ground suddenly exploded in a shower of grass and dirt and fire.

Yami flinched and glanced nervously at Seto.

The brunet didn't seem fazed at all. He drove with his jaw set with stubbornness and his knuckles white on the steering wheel, his sharp eyes focused on the rearview mirror as he tried to predict the moves of the tanks that were now rumbling after them. "Hang on!" he called suddenly as he spun the car again, only barely avoiding two explosions that erupted on their right.

Yami ducked and covered his head as chunks of rock and dirt began to pellet the car. He was suddenly very glad that he didn't know how to drive.

Seto, however, was annoyed. He didn't like running from a fight, but he knew that his convertible had no chance against a bunch of tanks. It was definitely time to haul ass.

Pulling out of his zig-zag driving, the assassin stepped on the gas and watched as his speed topped 80… then 100… then 120 mph. As the wind shrieked past their ears and the rumbling presence of the tanks faded away, the two young men suddenly found themselves alone with nothing but the triumphant thrumming of the car's engine.

Yami exhaled shakily and glanced behind them, seeing nothing but a cloud of dust kicked up by the back wheels.

"Well, that wasn't so bad," Seto commented cheerfully, leaning back and allowing the wind to whip through his bangs. "I'll miss that house though."

Yami blinked at him and decided it was best to stay silent.

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"They WHAT?" Hammond almost snapped the receiver in two. "It was ONE car. You can't even hit ONE car?" With a disgusted grunt, he hung up and promptly tossed the phone against the wall. It made a satisfying crunch as it fell to the ground.

The CEO fumed for a minute longer before he whipped out his cell to call his assistant managers. "Capolla, get James. Set up maximum security measures. And find that goddamn car!"

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James grumbled something rude under his breath as he stepped into the elevator, followed closely by Capolla. "Why does he always call when I'm getting coffee?"

"Oh, shut up," Capolla snapped as he pressed the button for the basement. He took out his gun from his belt and cocked it, making sure to check that it was fully loaded. "You want to drive this time?"

"Sure. You almost got us fucking killed last time. What kind of car are we looking for again?"

"I dunno. Red something. You know how great Hammond is with adjectives," Capolla snorted, putting his gun back in its holster just as the elevator door opened.

A pair of twinkling blue eyes greeted the two startled men. "Hello there," Seto purred, raising his gun.

Bam! Bam!

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Hammond sighed and brought his hands up to his pounding temples. He was trembling slightly. He knew many people were after his life, but to send Setep after him… Obviously, that someone wasn't taking any chances. The thought made him shudder in dread.

He suddenly wondered what Rosalyn was doing. Playing video games? Watching TV? Calling her friends? Hammond's brow furrowed as he tried to remember what his daughter's hobbies were. It saddened him to realize that he simply didn't know.

The man's fingers itched to reach for his cell phone. He could just call her…

No… He wouldn't even know what to say. That was one of his most worst traits, his ex-wife always told him; he just couldn't hold a decent conversation with anyone.

Hammond dug his fingers into his hair. His wife… Just thinking of her made his headache pound even more. His eyes instinctively drifted toward a picture of his family that rested at the edge of his desk. They had taken it years ago when they had gone to Disneyworld for Sarah's tenth birthday.

The CEO's fingers trembled as he picked up the picture and stroked the frame with loving care. When was the last time he had smiled like that? When was the last time he had even seen his wife? They had been such a happy, picture-perfect family… What happened?

The door creaked open.

Hammond's eyes were teary and red as he looked up. His breathe suddenly caught in his throat.

Two young men stood under his doorway, one tall and lean, the other shorter and more compact. The taller youth silently raised an arm and aimed his gun at Hammond's forehead, his blue eyes cold, his face expressionless.

So, Hammond though numbly, This is what the angel of death looks like.

A single shot was all it took. Hammond's body crumbled neatly in his seat, his arms and legs suddenly going slack. The picture frame slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor, the glass shattering in a dozen places.

It went unnoticed.

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Rosalyn was quite pleased with herself. She now had all the ingredients to make her special pasta sauce, despite the fact that it took her the better part of the day shopping for them. The girl happily cradled her precious bag of cargo as she headed back to the hotel, choosing to take the longer route across the beach so she could walk barefoot in the sand.

"Oh!" She gasped with surprise as a cold wave brushed over her feet, making her jump and causing a lone tomato to fall out of her bag.

The red fruit began to roll down the beach and stopped only when it hit the foot of another youth, this time a slender young man with wild hair and brilliant red eyes. Having been in the process of making a sand castle, the boy stopped his activities and glanced curiously at the tomato by his toe. He looked up at the girl running toward him and immediately understood. He picked up the fruit and silently offered it to her just as she reached him.

"Sorry about that! Thank you!" she chirped as she took the rogue tomato and stuffed it back in her bag. Then she was off, whistling a happy tune as she kicked happily through the surf.

Yami watched her go, his face expressionless. He then turned back to his sandcastle and found that a wave had washed it all away.

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AN: Its an interesting twist, I think, to make Hammond seem like a good guy in the end. (Sadly, it wasn't my idea.) Noir is definitely an emotional roller coaster, and this episode is a good example of how tragic the story can be. I honestly don't know if I did it justice… I also had to make up quite a lot of the chapter because my friend borrowed my Noir episodes and I was left with nothing but my crappy imagination and the soundtrack, lol.

Ewwww, I don't like my descriptions though. Everything sounds really… choppy after I cut out all my babbling. Dammit, I need more writing practice.

In any case, I gotta go collapse cuz I'm sick and I feel like crap. Plus, I have AP testing tomorrow, and I didn't study. (SIIIIGH) Please leave a review! It'd be nice for me to know that people are still reading this story lol. Sorry about being so late, again!