A/N: Quick update this time- but alas, nowhere near full length. Still, fairly important set-up for later events that would otherwise feel like a complete asspull. So uh- foreshadowing, right? :P

1:42 a.m.

It was a nice night to go boating. The wind wasn't very high, so the water's surface was fairly calm, and the sound of the motor remained a low, consistent buzz in the background. The sky wasn't cloudy either- though the lights from Tokyo all around them blotted out most of the stars, you could still see the moon, nearly full. The boat wasn't small, either- it was large enough to comfortably fit 5 or 6 people. Or well, it would be, if one of the six people wasn't lying on the floor, bound and gagged.

Taken in that light, the whole affair became dodgy. After all, one did not normally engage in a leisurely boat ride at night, especially without any lights on. And if, perchance, their lights had been on, any passerby might've noticed something off about the five grim-looking men visible. Then again- this boat was heading to a dimly-light private dock, and really, who knew what the rich, who could afford to privately own a waterfront dock and warehouse in Tokyo, got up to, anyways?

As the boat sped towards its destination, one man, sitting in the back, was squirming under the glare of the blond-haired teenager who was tied up. He looked left, right, and up, but his eyes kept straying back, before quickly shying away again. Finally, he blurted out, "Sir, he's staring at me."

The driver shot a quick scowl at him before turning back to face the dock. "Keep your voice down!" he hissed. "You deserve worse for dropping the sedatives off the boat. We'll have a talk about that after, by the way."

The one who'd spoken up wilted and mumbled, "Yes, sir." For a moment, the boat settled back into a tense silence. Then, as the boat began to slow, he spoke up again, prompting glares from the others in the boat. "Still- glaring at me all the time, you look like such an unpleasant person to be around. I know it sucks being tied up, but can't you smile, just once?" He brought a finger to the side of his mouth thoughtfully. "Or maybe the hole in your chest is stopping you from smiling?"

"Quiet," said the driver once again, but in a distracted tone of voice this time. He was craning his head from side to side, trying to catch sight of something. "Ah- good, the van's there." He brought them to a stop by the dock and hopped off the boat before starting to fire off directions to his team. "You, unlock the van. You, help me tie the rest of the knots, and keep the boat steady for the others. You two, carry him and put him in the back of the van. I'll stand watch. Understood?" Nods all around. "Good. Go."

And with that, they began to unload their cargo. The blabbermouth gave a little hup as he lifted the teen by the shoulders. They waited until the boat was securely tied up before stepping off.

But, as they stepped off, something happened. One of the many ropes somehow snagged on a hook, and the resulting shock was enough to make him drop the teen. His partner, swearing, managed to keep his grip on the teen's heels, but all that meant was that instead of falling flat, the teen's head smacked into the surface of the dock.

The leader came running towards them. "You idiot," he hissed. "What do you think you're doing?"

The klutz dropped his head, staring at the ground. "Sorry, sir-" he began, before noticing something strange about the floor. Instead of the usual flat shadow, there was a patch of inky black that seemed to be boiling.

Before he could say anything, it coalesced into the approximate size and shape of a fist. The next instant, he was jettisoned from the dock at terminal velocity.

The others all paused as a black, vaguely humanoid form rose up out of nothing. Not for very long- despite the incongruity, not one of them was stranger to unexplainable, miraculous sights. But long enough.

0.6 seconds after forming, one man was swatted aside. 0.3 seconds later, he comes to an abrupt, lethal stop in a stone wall several yards away. At the same instant, the man on the boat is sent into the bay, head-first, and neck cracking. 0.8 seconds after that, a fist comes down onto the leader like the wrath of a god, with enough force to break right through the dock, showering the immediate area with splinters. 0.5 seconds after that, the figure seems to contemplate chasing the last terrified man, but does not do so.

Instead, it dissipated, leaving only lingering motes of darkness that soon fade away.

A moment later, the blond teen, who'd been lying half on the dock, half on the boat the whole time, stirred. He blinked a couple times to clear his head, then stared at the carnage around him with wondering eyes.

He was still a veteran soldier, however- after a short moment of staring, he mentally filed the scene away for secondary priorities, and focused on getting out. He was still tied up, but he had enough wiggle room to drag himself along the dock, until he came to the hole. He tried to cut his rope on the sharp edges left, but it took two tries- the first broke off after some slight pressure.

Then after he freed himself, he stood. He nearly tottered into the bay, at first- he was weak, and it had been a little while since he last walked. Then, more or less steady, he began to hobble quickly away from the dock.

He was almost past the warehouse when he heard a faint voice calling from behind him. He looked back to see one of the surviving Daath cultists come lurching unsteadily out of the sea. He bared his teeth, and his hands flexed, then tightened into fists- but then he considered his own condition, and hesitantly, left.

Back by the docks, the survivor shouted feebly once again. "Wait, stop!" He took a steps forward, then couldn't help himself and fell, coughing. "Jeez, that was a hard hit," he groaned, rolling onto his back. "I wonder what he'll do," he mused. "A monster like that, loose in the city." He couldn't find enough strength to get up, so he decided to close his eyes and rest for just a few minutes before trying to get up again.

He didn't end up getting his minutes. As he rested, he heard footsteps crunching on the gravel, approaching him. He tried to open his eyes to look, but found his eyelids too heavy.

"Well, well, look what we have here," said a deep voice in a rather whimsical tone. "And you said I was seeing things."

"Oh, blow me," said another man in a precise, somewhat irritated voice. "I didn't think anybody would be stupid enough to try smuggling something this close to our docks."

"Hey." A foot tapped his cheek, then after a moment, one of his eyes was pulled open by a cane. Holding it was a large, fairly rugged, but friendly-looking, man with a scar on his chin. "Nice to meet you. You must be our new neighbours." The cane was retracted. "Looks to me like you guys could use some pointers on how to quietly bring in, uh… delicate goods. We'll have a nice, long talk about that soon, I suppose." His smile was strangely shark-like. "Assuming you can speak Japanese. You never know these days, with all these foreigners."

In the meantime, the other one was rifling his pockets. "Wallet… buncha cash, fake ID… ah, a pocketknife… I'll be keeping that for the moment, for the sake of public safety." A pause, then, "Well? Use that bulk for something and pick him up!"

"Hmm… alright." He was forcibly hoisted into the air, groaning all the way at the pressure put on his ribs. "And the rest?"

"We'll call for backup when we report this."

"Okay." The man carrying him began to walk, and the repeated pressure on his ribs made him black out from the pain.

Before he passed out, however, he heard the other man mutter one last thing. "Still… what the hell happened here, anyways?"

A/N: Since it's pretty much spelled out here, some confirmations for peace of mind. Yes, that was Daryl Yan. Yes, those were members of Daath. And the last two men are indeed those who, er, engage in activities of ill-repute.