Cancerous

A/N: Now here's something The Pub Writer would write about..

Disclaimer: K Project/Project K/K is awesome and I do not own it.

"I want to join Homura."

She might as well have exclaimed that upon her entry into the establishment. She had swung the door with enough force to break it off its hinges. She had a mixed look of frustration, rage, and desperation in her face as she panted, making her way slowly into the room. She wore a pair of yellow leopard-print harem pants, a neon green tank top over a purple tube top, a pair of yellow sneakers, and a pair of hot pink-framed shades covering her eyes.

Izumo thinks that she's a walking disaster as he eyes her distastefully. He might burst out laughing should she actually be considering—

"I need a drink." She murmurs as she takes a seat two feet away from him. So she thinks of this as a normal pub, huh?

He wipes the inside of a beer glass. "Do you know what this place is? You aren't supposed to be here."

She looks up and meets his indifferent gaze. "This is a pub, isn't it? People get drinks here, don't they?"

"Tsk-tsk, I'm afraid you're mistaken. This is Homura."

She scoffs before muttering to herself, "Homura bastards taking my kill as their own… I should've known."

"Pardon—"

She stared at him stonily. "Get me a drink, bartender, vodka on the rocks."

Who does this woman think she is!? He tries reasoning with her, "Miss, I don't think you understand—"

She pulls a pistol to his face and says in a harsh bite, "What don't I understand? I'm just asking for a drink." She pulls out a wad of bills with her other hand and drops it in front of him. "I'm able to pay for it and more, so what else is there to understand?"

He sighs. "Miss, I think you don't understand—" his hand shoots up and twists her arm onto the bar counter, her face following next. He presses her cheek to her shoulder. He whispers along her ear, "—the mechanics of my bar."

She is visibly struggling against his grip.

He continues. "I don't just accept people who enter without appointment or who aren't part of Homura, but seldom do I cater to the former. So if you'd like a drink," He twists her arm further, "go find another bar."

He releases her and she retaliates quickly with a fist aimed for his jaw. He stops it and grasps it tightly.

He reaches for his cigarette on the ashtray. "You're a tough drunkard, aren't you?" He takes a long smoke, and exhales. "There are lots of pubs you can have bar fights in, but not here."

She finally detaches her hand from his. "I'm not looking for a fight, bartender."

He takes the bundle of paper bills on the counter. "Where did you get this?"

She stands up, massaging her sore arm. "Blood money, it's yours if you want it."

It's almost a regular thing, murders. He takes a smoke and then, "You murdered someone?"

"No." Not yet, she wants to add. "—but that's worth ten thousand."

"Then why do you have it?"

"I know things." She smirks, "Even things about the city underground. You know, smuggled goods, identity theft, cold-case murders, things caught on tape, people gone missing…" Her last few thoughts caught his ear.

"You're lying."

"I'd be drunk if I wasn't, then again in vino veritas."

He shrugs, trying her. "How many shots would it take?"

"Thirteen to be exact."

"You're joking."

"That's what they said last time, but hey–thirteenth shot down and the truth spilled out of my mouth like vomit in a Sunday hangover."

"You're just out to get free drinks."

She gasps wryly, "Oh, how you foiled my plan! What else can a girl do to get some alcohol in her system?" She coughs, reverting to her intimidating look, "It's either free drinks or money, and the latter causes some—" She smirks, "—accidents if not met in full."

"You're talking crazy, woman."

"That's what they said before I gave them files only the government could have."

He takes a long, soothing smoke. "Where's the proof?"

She stops short. "You haven't heard of me before? Underground hacker extraordinaire?"

He shakes his head.

She is almost in disbelief. "Last year's government hacker? The shipment system breakdown six months ago? The credit card identity theft from four months before? The military surveillance exploit two months past? Nothing?"

"It's impossible to think of them as something committed by a teenager."

She bites her lips into a line. "I'm twenty-three."

"Even so. You must be high on drugs right now." He takes a long smoke.

She starts accusing him, "You've smoked too much, how many drags have you taken? A pack already? Then there must be something wrong with your head, brain damage perhaps. You should see a doctor."

He could smell the stench of her breath. "The alcohol in your system has made your blood pressure too high, blood movement too slow, and have your critical thinking dissipate into something like a three-year-old child's."

She leans back and stands proudly. She starts a mocking tone, "So this is Homura. I can't say that I'm impressed at all. Instead of giving in or giving up a proposition, they just lead people on. Disappointing." She turns her back to him and starts walking away.

He calls after her form. "You weren't welcome here in the first place."

The door closes. He notices that she's left the wad of cash on the counter and that her pistol is mysteriously gone. He starts counting the paper bills—he drops the roll into the sink and presses his cigarette to it.

He watches a flame emerge from the cigarette to devour the roll of printed-on paper. "It's a fake." Much like the rest of her, he adds.

A/N: Well, I'm pretty much jumping from one bandwagon to the other. Anyway, this is done and I think I'll add a few more chapters to this one. Read and review?