Disclaimer: Don't own.

A/N: Okay, no I don't allow unsigned reviews. I like to know who's reviewing my work.

Also, this story is more of a Kato/OC story if you squint. Slash if you're delusional and ergo not reading the actual words.

When Worlds Collide

"When my love swears that she is made of truth
I do believe her though I know she lies,
That she might think me some untutored youth
Unlearned in the world's false subtleties.
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
Although she knows my days are past the best,
Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue;"- Shakespeare, Sonnet 138, lines 1-7

Kato was walking home.

Now, under normal circumstances, this wouldn't have been a big deal. Except there was one small problem: Kato owned a motorcycle.

Dear Reader, I say owned in the past tense. Kato had, at one point, owned a rather stylish black motorcycle, but now it was gone. Despite its shiny, new appearance, it was a lesson in how appearances could be deceiving. It was, in reality, a very old bike he'd rescued from a junkyard and rehabilitated. Unfortunately, you can only rehabilitate an old bike so far, and now he was saving up to repair the engine again.

Yes, that bike was definitely a lesson in appearances and how they didn't always match expectations. It fit Kato perfectly, because his appearance didn't always match expectations either.

To look at Kato, you'd think he was a simple, Chinese man with nothing more to do than slack off and draw. Until you saw what he could do. Usually to you. You'd never think that under that slowly moving body lurked a sharp mind with a hair trigger sense of when to strike.

That sense was pricking at him at the exact moment we started looking in on him, Dear Reader.

He could hear the sound of a struggle. He turned the corner to see a gang beating up on a young man who could be only 16 years old at the most. This was unacceptable. Kato's lightning quick mind quickly analyzed the situation. Four gangsters, one victim, only two real weapons between them.

So he moved.

After kicking the gun out of the way, dodging the knife and steel pipe, and using the last gangster as a weapon towards the other two, they ran off. Kato stuck his hand out toward the victim, who took it gratefully.

Unfortunately for Kato, he hadn't taken the thick bushes into account, and a man who he'd never noticed jumped up behind him and wrapped a thick piece of rope around his neck, pulling tightly. Kato clawed at the rope, his air supply quickly dissipating with the struggle. What was going on? This didn't make any sense at all!

Then the victim looked at him with the strangest smile Kato had ever seen. He raised a damp cloth to Kato's mouth and nose. The four gangsters he'd "chased off" started to slowly walk back into his field of vision. Grey-black swirls started to edge around his vision. They'd tricked him.

Yes, appearances could truly be deceiving.

Britt Reid yawned as he sifted through his mail. Bill, junk, advertisement, coupons, and – ooohhh! A small box!

Getting a box in the mail is always fun, right?

Britt tore it open, silly smile on his face as he did so. It was a small jewel CD case with a burned disc inside of it. He looked at the Sharpie marker scrawled across the DVD.

"Catch me if you can, Britt Reid!"

Britt frowned. He didn't recall ordering anything like this, and it unnerved him a little. He popped the disc into the DVD player. The menu came up with a movie title reading "A little surprise for you." Alarm bells went off in Britt's head.

He clicked play.

Then he wanted to be sick. On the screen was an image he'd never thought he'd have to see. Kato – his best friend and brother in bond – was lying on the floor. At least, he assumed it was Kato. The man's eyes were bruised and swollen nearly shut, and he had a purple blotch covering most of the left half of his face. He was gagged, and the red stain on the cloth certainly looked like it could be blood.

The ropes were even more frightening. Kato's arms were behind his back, and there were ropes around his chest and abdomen, above and below his knees, and around his ankles. His black t-shirt was starting to ride up, and Britt could see rubbed raw skin around his stomach, just under the edge of a purple bruise.

A distorted voice boomed out over the speakers.

"Britt Reid. I know you're watching, and now I know you're worried. I have your little friend here. I want two million dollars, a means of escape, and an article in the Sentinel about me. Don't call the police. Don't expect anyone to help you. If you call anyone, we'll hurt him more than he hurts now, and I can assure you. He hurts more than he's ever hurt in his life. I want my money by tonight, and the article by tomorrow's paper. Front page, above the fold if you can," the voice said.

"And just so you don't think I'm bluffing," The voice continued, a pair of feet started walking toward Kato on camera. Kato looked above him angrily at the boots. When the feet were behind him, they kicked him in the back, hard enough to flip Kato over onto his stomach. Britt could see Kato's bound hands under the rope around his waist. Kato had obviously struggled. His wrists were a bloody mess.

The movie ended, and Britt turned off the television. Don't call the cops my ass. He thought. He picked up the phone and called Lenore.

"Hello, Lenore speaking?" She asked from the other end of the phone.

"Lenore, it's Britt."

"Britt, it's Saturday. I'm not coming into work or coming to help you on another stunt."

"Kato's been kidnapped."

There was a sharp intake of breath from the other end of the line. "Please tell me this is a joke, Britt," she said after a long pause.

"I don't think so. They sent me a DVD and it's pretty frightening. He's in bad shape already," Britt said, trying to not think about the bruises, the swollen eyes, or the bloody wrists of his best friend. "What do we do? They said not to call the cops. Why did they do this?"

"I don't know yet. Did they mention the Green Hornet?"

"Not that I heard."

"Good. At least that gives us a starting point. I'm calling a friend from college. She's in the FBI. Maybe she can help us out."

"The guy said no cops. He kicked Kato to make his point," Britt said, suddenly afraid of what he'd see next if the cops were called.

"Well, it's either that, or we never catch this guy and he does it again."

Britt sighed. "Call her."