BATW Interview: Hitomi Ozawa ("Ronin") emipet

Convict Interview
Subject: Hitomi Ozawa
Female, 25
Murder, Assault, and more

Date: 21 April 2028
Upcoming BATW: 12-14 May 2028


Marcus wasn't often surprised by those he dealt with in the production of Breakfast, but the difficulties he'd gone through in securing an interview with his next potential combatant had been a shocker for him. He'd initially heard of Hitomi's case in November while renegotiating the show's contract with the Justice Department, and he'd immediately decided that he had to have her as a Convict Combatant; and yet, here it was three weeks into April and he was only meeting her today for the first time. Marcus was not a fan of red tape, and the hoops he'd had to jump through to meet the Spider Tiger had pushed him almost to the point of calling in favors from higher ups that he had been keeping dirt on for just these kinds of occasions.

The guards brought Hitomi into the Conference Room, giving Marcus yet another surprise. Instead of the typical two guards flanking her, there were four guards, as well as two more standing outside the room's entrance; and supervising their little group's progress was the Assistant Warden who had been tasked clear back in February to liaise with Marcus over the murderess's possible involvement with the show.

Marcus had recently read Hitomi's file -- for the umpteenth time -- and knew that he would be meeting a walking weapon, so now he realized that he should have anticipate this level of security concerning her movement through the maximum security penitentiary. The Assistant Warden, in one of his many emails, had referred to Hitomi simply as one dangerous bitch.

Marcus, of course, had responded, "That's exactly what I'm looking for."

"I tried to get clearance for you and the inmate to have a private conversation, Mister Bennett," the Assistant Warden told Marcus. She shook her head, adding, "No can do. The Warden said, and I quote, not a chance in fucking hell."

Marcus just shrugged, answering, "Your prison, your prisoner, your call."

His attention shifted back to Hitomi. He had played with a variety of nicknames for the woman to use in the episode coming up in just three weeks. It would be Japanese, of course, more than likely something that emphasized her part in the Yakuza culture. Except for in movies and the occasional investigative night time news program, the crime organization wasn't well known outside of the country of origin, although those big U.S. cities that had vast Japanese communities knew about the Yakuza, of course. Marcus would ensure that all of America knew of the criminal enterprise before Hitomi killed her first Cop, which he was sure she would do within hours of the start of the May offering.

As the guards brought Hitomi to a stop just short of the metal table, Marcus -- who'd waited far too long to see them in person, said with a sincere tone and a broad smile, "I would be very interested in seeing your tattoos, Miss Ozawa ... if you don't mind, of course."

The Assistant Warden had known Marcus's interest in the cultural tats, and almost before he'd finished asking, she'd gestured to the guards, saying, "Doesn't much matter whether she mind's or not."

One of the Guards stepped before Hitomi and reached out toward the jump suit's zipper fob, dangling before the woman's cleavage. Hitomi jerked sideways, trying to keep the Guard from getting it. Immediately, the two guards holding her arms grasped her tighter, and behind them the two guards standing in the doorway rushed forward to help. Hitomi tried to keep the Guard from getting a hold of the fob with another twist of her body, but the shackles and -- now -- eight arms securing her made her resistance futile.

The Assistant Warden stepped up before Hitomi and, with a jerk, sent the zipper downward, all the way to Hitomi's belly button. She stepped aside and told the Guards, who now had total control of the still-fighting Hitomi, "Strip her!"

Two of the Guards took hold of the lapels of Hitomi's jump suit and pulled it forcefully off her shoulders and down to the chain that was securing her wrists to her waist.

And yet again, Marcus found himself surprised by this entire affair. Hitomi's breasts were unbridled by a bra or hidden by a tee shirt, giving him not only a good view of the tattoos gracing her body but a very appreciable ogling of her full, firm breasts as well. Marcus had a hard time deciding what he was more interested in -- the tits or the ink -- but after a moment of ogling both, his gaze set firmly upon the Japanese symbol in the middle of her chest.

"What does that mean...?" he asked, pointing to her breast bone. "I would really like to know."

Hitomi still hoped her yakuza clan would get her out. Stupidly she remained hopeful, even after the last incident, when she assaulted and raped that dumbass prison cow, at the last prison she'd been in. That gave her the almost automatic death penalty, and she believed the lawyers when they assured her of the ease of an appeal. Reading every letter from "Uncle" or those from her lover, Endo Toshiro, also a member of the feared Fire Tigers, were noncommital, even in the coded responses about her case. The problem was Hitomi was not patient. She had bitches to keep in line and jobs to do. This idleness grated on her.
Today started just the same as all the others since she'd been incarcerated. Then just after 10AM, the goon squad came in and threw her to the ground, even as she fought back, and pinned her as they cuffed and shackled her. She screamed every curseword she knew, when they groped her as they chained her cuffs to the shackles. Now in a seething fury, she stood in front of Marcus Bennett. THE Marcus Bennett of "Breakfast At The Whitney" fame. She quickly figured that the clan had fixed it, possibly as a means of breaking her out and spiriting her off to Japan. Her thoughts were jarred when she heard:
He stepped up a bit closer to Hitomi and, with his most sincere tone, said, "Please don't take offense, Miss Ozawa ... but I want to see your tattoos, if you don't mind."

Almost before he finished, the guards -- who knew he'd been planning on making this request -- were moving up to secure Hitomi while the Assistant Warden, who'd just entered, stepped up before her, saying, "Doesn't much matter whether she mind's or not."

With a swift movement, she grabbed the zipper of the woman's jumpsuit and jerked it down to her belly. The prison official stepped back and out of the way as the Guards on either side of Hitomi pulled the front of her jumpsuit open.
Hitomi screamed angrily and tried to fight back, out of the corner of her eye noticing Marcus remained impassive. After the zipper almost sceamed down to her navel revealing her breasts and tattooes to him, she stood proud and haughty, daring him to make a lewd comment. Instead he said "What does that mean...?" he asked, pointing to her breast bone. "I would really like to know."
Hitomi looked at the Warden's pet bitch venomously, then looked at Marcus and shook her head.
"It means nothing gaijin. It is merely decorative, like any other tattooes I wear. Am I acceptable to you Mr Bennett? Do I meet your criteria for a contestant? I will sign." Already she was planning on how to deal with her enemies in the joint when she was living it up in Japan, free and back with her clan. She stood there looking calmly and serenely at Marcus Bennett.

A smirk spread upon Marcus's lips. He like Hitomi's spirit; the fight that was inside a person was what made them a worthy combatant for Breakfast, even more so than their physical abilities in the Arena. Hitomi's spirit would do her well, he knew. He looked from the tattoos to her full, firm breasts again, and the smirk widened. Those smoldering looks aren't going to hurt either.

"No, I don't think so," Marcus said. He turned to the Assistant Warden without delay, saying, "I don't think I can use her after all. I'm sorry to have troubled you over the past few months."

The prison official's eye brows raised with surprise. "Excuse me...? Mister Bennett, do you understand the steps that were taken to--"

She stopped short when Marcus raised a hand in a wait a moment gesture. He looked back to Hitomi for a moment, then said to the Assistant Warden, "I ... I fear that the defiance she had presented here could render her a flight risk once she is in the custody of my Security Force."

"You've never signed up someone who you thought might try to escape?" the woman asked, her tone a mix of surprise and sarcasm.

"I've signed up someone I was fairly certain could escape," Marcus responded. He turned away from the Assistant Warden and stepped close to Hitomi; the guards still holding her tightened their grips, with the one behind and to the left of her grasping a handful of the woman's deep, black hair to keep even her head in total control.

Marcus ogled the beautiful inmate again, but his eyes weren't on the now stiffly swollen nipples or the firm, shapely breasts they extended from; they were very much on the tattoos themselves, particularly the one that graced the center of her chest. After a long moment, with his gaze set upon Hitomi's deep, brown eyes, he asked, "If I don't accept her ... when will she be executed?"

Behind Marcus, the Assistant Warden pulled the latest smart phone from her waist pocket, tapped at it a few times, studied the screen, and paused; a surprised expression filled her face yet again. "I, um ... I'm not sure that this is right. When I looked at it this morning--"

"The information is correct, ma'am," Marcus said with a knowing tone, his gaze still firmly planted upon Hitomi's mesmerizing eyes. "I talked to the Justice Department this morning before I arrived."

The prison official hesitated another short moment, then looked up at Hitomi and said with what honestly sounded like a bit of regret for the woman, "May 2nd. She's scheduled to be executed on May 2nd."

"Hmm," Marcus murmured, his soft response to the news meant to tell Hitomi that the date -- only 14 days away -- wasn't news to him at all. Marcus leaned in close to Hitomi, causing the Guards securing the murderess to tighten their hold on her to grip her so tightly that she grimaced. In a whisper so low that even the very near Guards would have had a difficult time understanding his words, Marcus informed the woman, "I don't blame you for fighting these ... people. If I was in your place, I would kick and scream and tear their eyes out. And ... I hope that if you become part of Breakfast ... that you put this nature of yours to good use."

He pulled his head back from her again but stepped even closer to her. As he continued to talk, he began returning her jump suit to its proper fit, pulling the arms back up and over her shoulders, raising the zipper slowly, adjusting the collar neatly. He allowed the backs of his hands to ever so gently brush against her solid nipples or across the skin of her breasts in such a way that it would have been hard for a bystander to know whether it had been intentionally provocative or totally innocent in nature.

"I will ensure that your last days within the American Justice System are comfortable ones, Miss Ozawa. You will have..." His smile returned. "I very nearly said you will have anything you want or need ... but, while you will have much more there than you could possibly ever get here, behind these walls and bars ... I can almost guarantee you will not get every thing you want during the week you are with Breakfast. But ... I can guarantee you ... you won't be sorry you joined me."

Again he moved closer to her, and again the Guards tightened their grips on her, screwing up her face with pain from their ferocious grips. Marcus studied her face, taking in every facet of it. The deep brown eyes, the perfect skin -- exceptional, considering the woman had been behind bars, not at a country spa, for the past many months -- and the luscious, full lips that Marcus himself would have loved to seen and felt wrapped around his now semi-alert dick. She was, simply, one of the most stunning women he'd ever laid eyes on.

Later, as he was flying back to Detroit and reviewing the combatants list for the May episode, he would marvel at the beauty and raw sexuality that the audience would see in this upcoming battle. Typically, in the past, Breakfast's had often had one or two token sex kittens but the rest of the female component had been rough and tough types. Before he came to meet Hitomi, one of Marcus's Casting Interns had commented that the upcoming episode only included one of what she called The Unfuckables.

He leaned in closer still, his face just inches from Hitomi's. In a very low whisper, intended to be only between the two of them, Marcus said, "But ... defiance ... it should be reserved for the Arena. When I ask you for something ... when I tell you to do something ... you will do it without question. Or--" He pulled back a bit, meeting her hard glare. "--you can simply continue your fight ... tell me nothing about the meaning of your tattoos ... and in two weeks, I'll be back her again ... to see them put a needle in your arm. Your choice."

With that, Marcus stepped back a bit ... and waited for her response.

(OOC -- sending you a PM. Read before posting to this.)

Hitomi paled slightly upon hearing the date of her death. The very fact it was, was a sure sign of either the failure of her clan to help her, or worse yet, they left her to hang. Which meant if she was going to do Breakfast, they would laugh and bet on her odds, just like every other contestant they had watched.

She was torn. Loyalty to the death for her clan, and the very desire to live. Not just to get revenge on her enemies, but to be with Endo as his woman, have his babies, to be free. She slumped as she wrestled with all these conflicting ideas and after a seeming eternity she looked up at him, not wanting to cry, but a tear trickling down her cheek.

"Mr Bennett, Sir. It is a secret sign of my clan. It means loyalty. Since I am to die anyway... I will make it my last breath to take someone with me. Be it this bitch here, or some asshole ex-cop makes no mind to me." She smiled sweetly at the Assistant Warden and then looked right into Marcus' eyes.

"I am yakuza, born and to death. It seems they have already buried me. Please let me die in a more fitting way. I beg You, Sir." She bowed her head respectfully to Marcus and waited for his response with held breath.

That's more like it, Marcus thought.

Marcus walked a fine line in his dealings with potential Breakfast combatants. He was often dealing with brutal murderers who had nothing left to live for. People like that would often kill someone standing before them just because they had the time and energy to spare and nothing better to do. But Marcus, of course, had one thing going for him: he could get even the worst of convicts out of their punishments, whether it be life without the possibility of parole or the death penalty. And because the people he was interviewing knew that striking him meant they'd fucked themselves out of their last opportunity, Marcus had been able to confront the country's worst convicts with confidence without ever suffering any physical harm.

Marcus studied Hitomi for another long moment. Her eyes were lowered in sudden respect for what he had to offer, a response he'd never experienced before. Previous interviewees had laughed, cried, cheered, even fainted; but never had he received such a culturally based reply as the one he was now receiving from this Japanese traditionalist.

He stepped back and, looking to the Assistant Warden, said, "Remove her shackles, and please, will you retrieve the bag of clothes that I--"

"Remover her shackles...?" the prison official asked in shock.

"Yes, please," Marcus answered without missing a beat. "And please, could you have the gate inform my driver that we will be out shortly to--"

"Excuse me, Mister Bennett," the Assistant Warden cut in. "I ... I think you're forgetting who your dealing with here. Hitomi Ozawa is--"

"No longer your concern," Marcus cut in. He reached inside his jacket and withdrew a tri-folded sheet of paper, offering it out. "Transfer papers ... from Federal Custody to my Security Force. They are already signed by the Attorney General, the Governor, and your boss, the Warden."

Marcus turned to glance at Hitomi, wondering if she realized that the presentation of this already-signed paperwork meant that he had known all along that he knew she would be leaving here with him today. In the half dozen years of the presentation of Breakfast, he'd only had three convicts turn him down ... and, within days of having done so, each had had their attorney or a family member contact Marcus later to ask if his offer was still on the table.

"I think you'll find them in order," Marcus said, turning to Hitomi and saying, "You are making the right decision, Miss Ozawa ... and, I assure you, being a part of Breakfast at the Whitney is far from a death sentence. You will have every opportunity to succeed, and--" He gave her a broad, sincere smile. "--I hope with all my heart that you do succeed."

As he turned and reached his hand out, waggling his fingers for the return of the transfer papers, he continued his words to Hitomi with a thought to himself, I hope with all my heart ... that you do succeed in improving my show's ratings ... and making me a gob-load of money.

Hitomi felt relief, yet she did not feel like cheering. She even thought about really doing the Assistant Warden right there. The papers were signed. But she felt deeper in her heart that any opportunity was to be taken and this one presented itself to her.

She slowly let her breath out and looked demurely at Mr Bennett. :"I thank you Sir for this opportunity. I will do my utmost to bring honor to you."

She then looked at the Assistant Warden after her cuffs had been removed, smiled sweetly and hissed low words in Japanese to her. "Death will come for you and it will be me, for all the shit you put me through. I swear this on my oyabun and my sword."

Louder she, still smiling, said "I really enjoyed my stay here and will recommend this establishment for all my friends." She nodded to the cow and then waited for Mr Bennett.

Marcus listened to Hitomi talking in her first language at the Assistant Warden and smiled. He loved the Japanese language. His great grandmother had been a War Bride eighty years earlier, and Marcus's mother had been raised with the language. He'd learned -- and, of course, forgotten -- a great number of words as the language that had been spoken in his home during family get-togethers and, later, when gramma spent her death bed months in his family's home.

He didn't have to understand what Hitomi was saying now to the prison official. Marcus didn't recognize any foul words, but he was certain there were a few hateful ones in the mix. When the woman's tone turned from anger to sarcastic, and she thanked the prison's Number Two for the accommodations, Marcus had to turn away toward his satchel, pretending to look for something, to hide the wide smile that filled his face.



The process of physically getting Hitomi out of the Federal Penitentiary was about as complex as initially getting permission just to visit her. Marcus's Security Force was the best money could buy and both better trained and more careful than any Prison Crew he'd ever dealt with.

"I need you to understand exactly what we are putting on you, Miss," Marcus's Head of Security, Bruno Masterson, explained to Hitomi as he attached the various security devices to her.

The cuffs he was attaching were what the Security Force playfully called the Wonder Woman Bracelets. They were three inches wide and half an inch thick, tapering to the lower forearm similarly to the perennial super heroine's magical jewelry. They were a polished, gold color only because the combatants would be wearing them in the battle, too, and Marcus had wanted something stylish on his competitors. Completing the fashion part of the bracelets, Marcus's design team had combined the art work of the City of Detroit's official seal with the competition's name, then had it emblazoned on the outward-facing part of the equipment for the camera's to catch at key moments.

But that was where the similarity to jewelry ended, and everything about the bracelets from there out was about security.

"Once I activate these," Bruno explained, clasping the cuffs around her wrists, "They can not be removed without specific tools. If you do attempt to remove them ... and Miss Ozawa ... I need you to acknowledge that you fully understand this ... if you attempt to remove these ... you will die. The signal being generated between the cuffs and the base unit will be interrupted and--" He lifted his hand before him and made a gesture that most people understood. "--boom! Do you understand...?"

After Hitomi nodded -- then, at his prodding to be verbal, spoke that she did understand -- Bruno turned her hands palm up to show her the inner side of the bracelets. There, two inch-in-diameter circles of black occupied the center of the cuffs. "These are your electronic bindings, Miss. Once you make a connection--"

As he explained, he turned one of her hands over and pressed her wrists across one another at perpendicular angles. With a loud click and a force that would overwhelm even Mister Universe, the inner edges of the bracelets connected to one another, like powerful magnets.

"--do not attempt to break the seal. If you do..."

He repeated his boom gesture, then retrieved a wide utility belt from the table beside Hitomi and -- asking her forgiveness for the intrusion, for he was if anything else a gentleman -- stepped up close to her and wrapped his arms around her body. He positioned the belt around her back, then pulled it around her waist, shifting it and the lower hem of the blouse Marcus had brought for the woman until both seemed to fit together well.

His eyes dropped for a moment to the cleavage just below his chin, and he looked away quickly. Bruno Masterson was one of the world's foremost security experts and -- with fourteen bodies to his name -- not a stranger to using mortal force when it was necessary; but he was now, always had been, and likely always would be uncomfortable with beautiful women, particularly strong beautiful woman. And Hitori Ozawa was definitely one of them!

He clicked the latches in the front of the belt and pulled the Velcro cover into place. When he was finished, the belt almost looked like a simple piece of Women's Fashion. He looked to her and continued his explanation, "Don't try to take this off either. The belt's latches are connected via wifi to the cuffs..." He pulled back his jacket to show a small box on his belt that looked like a 1960s pager. "...to my remote unit..." Bruno nodded toward the briefcase looking device that sat on the table before the automatic rifle armed Security Guard who was the only other person in the room except Marcus. "... to the control unit..." He gestured an extended finger toward the room's ceiling. "...and, of course, the sat' link. Any attempt to remove or otherwise tamper with either the Security Belt or the cuffs and..."

His eye brows raised a bit as, again, he made his boom gesture. Then he smiled and added, "And just in case you had any inklings toward being a suicide bomber and talking out Mister Bennett or anyone else who upsets you ... it doesn't work that way. Shaped charges. You're the only one who will be harmed ... so ... be smart."

Bruno could still remember the first and only Convict who'd decided to take the quick way out. After calling out some religious rant, he run at an unsuspecting Marcus Bennett and, once as close as he mistakenly thought he needed to be, slammed his hands down with great force on a table top, forcing the cuffs to separate. The result had been gruesome. The cuffs' shaped charged very nearly blew the man's hands right off, leaving one quite literally dangling from a bloodied mass of tendons; and -- later seen on the security camera which had caught the incident -- the belt around the man's body had hit his lower abdomen with enough force to cause his stomach to instantly expel everything inside up and out his mouth and nose; caused his eyes to literally explode; expanded his chest enough to do what they called an Incredible Hulk shirt-ripping expansion; and -- eventually, as the explosion subsided and gravity took over -- caused his bowels to simply dump out around his waist as he fell to the ground, where he died slowly and in great pain.

It had been one of the most horrific things Bruno had ever witnessed first hand -- he'd turned, of course, and vomited with disgust -- and he never wanted to see it happen again, particularly to such a pretty woman as Hitomi Ozawa.

Marcus had been furious later when the manufacturer of the security device allowed the recording of the event to slip out to the internet. Their hope, of course, was that sales of the device would scream through the roof as police, military, and private detention companies scrambled to buy their own units. That had happened. Unfortunately, the devices also fell into the hands of kidnappers and other criminals, and before the company had altered its policies on who it would sell to, dozens of innocent people had died horrible deaths.

Once they had her secure, Marcus and his security team escorted Hitomi out of the prison's interior the helicopter waiting in the yard, then to the plane at the nearby private strip, and finally -- after a three hour flight -- to the detention facility in Detroit. By policy, Convicts were supposed to transferred to a Federal Center to await the training phase, but Marcus had had a feeling that Hitori Ozawa didn't need training, so he'd had her brought directly to the underground security are inside the Arena itself.

Once inside the secured facility three stories below the abandoned neighborhood, Hitomi's wrist restraints were deenergized. Bruno -- who hadn't left her side in the past 12 hours -- warned her again about messing with the security precautions, then removed the belt from around her waist and told her, "Do not ... and I repeat, not get more than ten feet from this. If you go to the bathroom, take it with you. At night, lay it on the table by your bed. During the days that follow, if Security takes you somewhere, have this put around your waist again."

That last part really was unnecessary, because Hitomi wouldn't be going anywhere without Bruno at her side. Each Combatant -- Convict as well as Cop -- would have their own personal Security Escort, and Bruno had drawn Hitomi as his charge. He finished by making the blown up gesture yet again ... then turned and left, leaving Hitomi alone in her new home.

Hitomi, no, Ronin, slipped out of all the prison clothing and stood naked long enough to slip on the panties and bra. It fit perfectly and Ronin nodded in approval more to herself than anyone else. They study their competitors. She mentally filed that as important. She suspected that Marcus was no fool, and he suffered none either. Know the opposition. She slipped into the Khaki pants and smiled when she played with the seam joints and pocket flaps. No rivets or buttons. These people dealt with dangerous people. It was in no way her usual street attire of business pantsuit, but it made her feel a bit more human and free. She sat down and flexed the sneakers. No stiffeners in the sole, another lesson they learned. She slipped them on and listened carefully to the security guard's instructions. While she listened, she idly rubbed the stump of her left pinky. Her only sign that she had failed her clan and paid the price. She remembered the pain as she, herself, cut the first joint and handed the tip to the Oyabun.

The cuffs and belt she was impressed with and idly though about suicide and maybe taking Bruno here with her, but again, she had plans for the future and put the thought away.

She noticed Bruno's gentlemanliness and smiled and nodded respecting his attitude to her. "Domo arrigato, Masterson-san. I do have one question, maybe it is too early, but I have been unable to properly exercize or practice. Will I have such opportunity Sir? Also will I be able to spar, and I promise not to kill, a person?" She looked at both Bruno and Marcus expectantly.

Hitomi slept through the flight. The first sleep she had without nightmares or beatings since her arrest. When she was put in the room of the secure facility, she went just a little silly and bounced on the bed and cuddled the soft blankets and sheets to her chin and smelled them with a happy look on her face. She noted the security cameras and when Bruno left, she stripped and lay on the bed nude and masturbated furiously until she screamed in orgasm. She stayed nude for the rest of the day, even eating naked, and smiled secretly when Bruno found reasons to look at the tile patterns of the ceiling.

"I am sorry to make You uncomfortable Mr Masterson, but I have been penned up too long, and need a few hours of utter freedom of a spiritual nature. If it bothers You, I give You my word I will make no attempts at escape or mayhem causing so You may leave me alone? If this isn't acceptable, I do not care if You find me pleasing to Your eyes. You yourself are pleasing to me."

She giggled at his look of 'You-have-got-to-be-crazy-lady' and continued with her repast, although out of respect for his feelings she did put on a tee shirt.

(OOC) editted.

24 April 2028 -- Monday:

Bruno regretted having had to confine Hitomi to her quarters and the immediate area around it for the past two days. But then, he reminded himself that she'd just come from Federal Lockup, where she'd spent 23 hours a day in a 24 square foot cell -- one sixth the size of her current quarters -- and that by comparison, this space, with its comfortable bed and carpeting and private bathroom with shower, probably felt like the Ritz to the murderess.

He'd met with her every 4 hours every day, except during her mandatory 8 hour sleep period, whether they had anything to share or not. He brought her four meals a day and sat with her until she finished, ensuring that every utensil returned to his care. As with all combatants, she'd been free to ask for anything she wanted. There had been a couple of requests -- cultural and ethnic -- that Bruno had had to either ask her more about or make inquiries of once he'd returned upstairs, but they'd managed to come up with almost every thing that teased and pleased her palette.

Bruno had escorted her down the hall to the small gym twice a day and, as with her meals, watched her ever second. He wasn't really too worried about Hitomi, as he'd never been too worried with his charges from the previous 6 episodes he'd worked. The Security Cuffs never left her body, and when she was in transit from her quarters to the gym here in the B3 level of the basement security area, her wrists were always secured to one another with the magnetic constrictors.

Bruno had seen marked improvement in Hitomi's health and spirits. She was becoming a new person. He didn't know whether that new person was the old person she'd been before prison -- the criminal who had beaten and raped and murdered men and women alike -- or a new person entirely. But, he was impressed with her resilience and, seemingly, her excitement about the next stage of her life, now just 18 days away ... which could, quite possibly, be the last stage of her life as well.

"I have something new for you today, Miss Ozawa," Bruno said as he watched her don a set of cold weather running clothes over her usual work out clothes, as well as a new pair of running shoes.

When she was ready and crossed her wrists, waiting for her keeper to energize the constrictors, Bruno instead offered out a black hood and smiled. "Put it on. We're going outside."



Forty minutes later, Bruno deenergized the constrictors and told her to remove the hood. He watched her blink her eyes a few times, then look around herself.

"Tolan Park," he said. "Back before the Dirty Bomb, this was one of the only places in the neighborhood where kids could come out and play and not worry about drive by shootings or pedophiles or drug pushers. The three gangs that controlled the neighborhoods adjacent to this area had declared the park and the blocks surrounding it no man lands, or something to that effect."

He shrugged his shoulders as he looked all about himself. "Don't know much about the whole gang thing. Not from 'round here, and where I came from ... well, our most violent gang was a group of old ladies who took over the public pool every afternoon for aerobics.

He chuckled, not knowing whether Hitomi would believe that a man with his obvious experience today with crime, criminals, and the violence that surrounded them could actually have come from a small town that had never suffered a murder or rape in its 200 years of existence. "But, I was told there were no drugs allowed here ... no recruiting members ... not only that, but the gangs paid for a private security force that patrolled the park 24/7. Can you imagine such a thing?"

Bruno noticed Hitomi's eyes surveying the perimeter of the park. He knew what she was wondering. "There's no fence, Miss. No guards..." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the old humvee -- and the two men, one with an automatic rifle, the other with a snipers rifle -- that had brought them here. "You could take off if you wanted to. But--" He glanced at the belt about her waist, then looked back up with a raised eyebrow. "YOu would end up with quite a tummy ache before you got more than a block out of my sight."

He walked away from her, into the park, glancing back over his shoulder before turning to continued walking backward onto the grass, gesturing her forward. "C'mon. There's a jogging track that weaves about the perimeter. Just over a kilometer in length, with stretching and calisthenics stations every two hundred meters. We have a weight lifting station at the north end. Used to be a play ground, but no kids come here anymore, obviously."

There may not have been a wall around the park itself, but just out of sight in the blocks surrounding Tolan was a wall designed not to keep convicts inside but to keep the public outside. So, Hitomi would be all alone out here in what amounted -- at this time, anyway -- to her own private park.

"I'll be sitting under a tree over yonder," he told her. "I have some reading to do about the other combatants ... so ... you feel free to take a run ... do some stretches ... or, just look at the birds. Your time, your choice. We'll be here an hour."

It was a beautiful day, with just a touch of a chill in the air and virtually no wind. Bruno turned his back on Hitomi -- not something many people likely did during her criminal activity days and live to talk about -- and headed for his favorite reading tree. He had some studying to do; tomorrow, Hitomi was to finally meet some of her fellow combatants. For the past two days, the four women and two men already in the underground Security Facility had been kept totally apart from one another, but it was finally time to start introducing them.

After all, in a couple of weeks, they were either going to live or die together...

Two days of idleness. Ronin trained and practiced hard. She did wish she had a proper sparring partner to hone her instinct on all over again. She could not readily put the idea into words, at least English, and she knew her skills, though good, were in no way like they had been the day she was arrested and had fought and beaten six police officers badly until they tazed her into unconciousness. Still she trained and rehardened her body as much as she was able.

Then this morning Bruno had come in and chatted with her. She listened and actually was a bit surprized he was not from a 'combat zone' crime area. She did understand about 'neutral grounds' though.

"Oh yes Bruno-san. We in the yakuza are famous for such in our areas. Someplaces actually have a lower crime rate than a major city usually does because the yakuza are ninkyō dantai, Chivalrous Organizations? We protect businesses and katagi. What police and government call extortion, we call it 'collecting taxes'. We do return to the katagi. Several yakuza clans were in the front of rescues and offering food and shelter in times of disaster. I personally have set aside areas for children to play free of trouble in my area. Any who dared to cross us learned the error of their ways."

The park was almost heaven, painfully reminding Ronin that she was still a prisoner, but this made an actual prison seem a horrible dream. She ran a few laps easily to warm up and loosen up then set off at a hard fast full run, sweating and panting but unwilling to accept defeat. by the halfway mark her side pained her and her legs burned, still she kept on, pushing herself. A few yards short of finishing she was almost whooping as she tried to suck in more air and her legs shook and her vision blurred as sweat poured into eyes. She kept running though and crossed the finish line completely exhausted and fell to the ground.

She shivered and shook from exhaustion and panted hard until she was able to rest her body. She waved off any assistance to stand and finally struggled back to her feet and walked around the track to cool down.

"Bruno-san, I did not receive an answer to my question." She stood in front of him and had waited for him to look up. "Will I be able to re-hone my instinct with a sparring partner? I have given my word to not kill or maim the sparrer."

She waited, hoping that the answer was still being thought over by his boss, and not a no answer means no.

Sparring... The policy toward pre-battle sparring was ... well ... there really wasn't one, which had always seemed odd to Bruno. Breakfast had always reminded him of the Gladiator sports of the Roman Empire, and those combatants -- who some times fought for the sport of it and other times for their lives -- trained with sparring partners constantly.

Marcus had had mixed feelings about sparring over the years. Both Bruno and Marcus had seen friendly jousting turn into angered though accidental killing, twice as a matter of fact. Each time, the sparring amongst all the combatants had been brought to an end, only to begin again when the team members asked, sometimes begged for it.

"Tomorrow..." he said, hoping to fill her mind with another exciting topic, "...you will be introduced to some of your fellow team members. Perhaps we should wait until after the introductions to make a decision on this."

Bruno checked his watch, stood, and said, "Time to get back."

They were only a a dozen yards away from Bruno's reading tree when Bruno, unable to contain his anxiety any longer, began the conversation that Marcus usually had with selected Combatants. Bruno, who'd spent so much time with Hitomi over the past three days, had asked to present the offer himself, telling his boss, "We're getting to know one another and ... it might come better from me." Marcus had agreed, though Bruno had sensed that the man had suspected that his boss knew his true reasons: Bruno didn't want Hitomi to agree to the proposal because ... he was developing a crush.

"Hitomi," Bruno began, realizing his error and correcting, "Miss Ozawa. On occasion, prior to the beginning of the competition ... certain competitors are permitted to ... spend some time, you could call it ... with some of our more important viewers. People ... men and women who ... well, sometimes they have a part in the shows production ... sometimes they are from the agencies who make Breakfast at the Whitney possible ... business folk ... government ... studio exec's..."

Bruno hesitated. Marcus was, of course, trusting Bruno to make this happen. But, in all honesty, the man personally assigned as Hitomi's overseer didn't want it to! But ... he continued; it was his duty, and it would be good for Hitomi, too, as she would gain advantages before and during the actual battle phase of the program, and those advantages could keep her alive in the end.

He stopped in his tracks, and after Hitomi realized he'd done so and turned to face him, Bruno said bluntly, "There are people in this world ... people who follow Breakfast closely ... who would pay ... very good money, as well as ... I guess you could say make valuable contributions to your future ... just to spend the night with you."

He glanced to the ground, his shy streak -- only aided by his lust for the Japanese Beauty -- overwhelming him. He wanted her so badly, but he knew he couldn't have her. To fuck a combatant he was overseeing would mean the loss of his job as Chief of Security and the severance of his association with the show. He would never risk that.

And while he knew -- or at least hoped -- that he would never allow his lust to take such a risk, he was still conflicted with how he wanted Hitomi to respond to the offer: On the one hand, he wanted to imagine that she was above such activities ... satisfying the lust of some well-to-do for a little bit of personal gain ... selling herself, essentially; and yet, doing so could be the difference between living and dying in just a little under three weeks.

He looked up to her again, asking, "Would you be interesting in taking such a meeting...?"

Ronin cocked her head as Bruno-san spoke. She expected this talk, maybe not from Bruno-san's lips but definitely expected it. She felt sadness that this was coming through Bruno and she flared angrily.

"I am a business woman also, Masterson-san and fully understand what I am now and what is expected. I am disappointed the actual words are coming from your mouth, but I also understand cowardice and humiliation of others for selfgratification." She turned away from Bruno so her tears weren't seen. "Ronin will do as she is ordered to do. I wish to go back now."

She sat in the truck and held her bindings together for activation and looked through Bruno.

Fuck...

Bruno reached to his belt and activated the Security Cuffs; they clanked together with an sharp electronic sound. He dropped into the seat beside Hitomi and directed the Driver to get them home.

And all the way back to the Arena, into the Security Facility structure, and down to B3, not a word was spoken between the two of them. Bruno's mind was reeling, searching for an acceptable way to respond to Hitomi's outrage at the proposal that she sleep with one of Breakfast's well-to-dos.

He found nothing. Every thing about the situation was ... was fucked! A murderess from a Japanese criminal organization, sentenced to death, saved from execution by a life-or-death game show, offered an opportunity to prosper -- or at least live longer -- by parting her thighs for a spoiled rich guy ... and, just to make it totally unbelievable, Bruno was falling for the woman, despite knowing that not only could he not have her now, but if she did manage to win and get her freedom, he'd never see her again, certain to return to Japan and take an honored roll as not only a loyal Yakuza but as a famous -- or infamous -- television and internet super star.

What the fuck! his head screamed. Do your fucking job and get past this, you idiot. He was a security professional, with a job to perform; he wasn't supposed to let his feelings get in the way like this. She's a fucking criminal, and you're her keeper. Do what you're told and get her to sleep with the man.

Ronin will do as she is ordered to do.

As the Guard escorting them opened the door to Hitomi's quarters and ushered her inside, Bruno excuse him, telling the man he needed to discuss the woman's schedule with her. The Guard hesitated, knowing that Overseers were not typically allowed to be alone with the Combatants for a whole host of security concerns.

Once the Guard was out of ear shot, Bruno deenergized the Security Cuffs, springing Hitomi's wrists free. He looked to his feet, looking for the words, before looking up to her and saying, "You are not being ordered to do this ... Miss Ozawa." He'd nearly used her given name, but feeling like a piece of shit right now, he'd chosen not to. He began to speak, searched for the right words, then said, "Entertaining the Elites is ... an option. I can assure you that ... in the past ... combatants have gained valuable ... well, let me just say that, although it might seem a bit ... degrading ... I've never known a combatant who regretted ... regretted ... well, I think you understand what I mean. But, again ... you're not being ordered to do anything you don't want to do."

Just saying it sounded idiotic. Hitomi was here to fight, possibly to the death, to keep from getting dead ... and Bruno was telling her she wasn't being told to do something she didn't want to do...? But ... officially ... she, just like the other Combatants, were here voluntarily, by their own free will. They could back out at any moment and return to their Federal Penitentiary cells ... for impending execution, of course. But, the important point was, they could leave!

That didn't make Bruno feel any better, of course, about asking Hitomi to sleep with a stranger to reap unknown benefits prior to or during the upcoming episode of Breakfast.

"If you wish," he continued tentatively, "I will let Mister Bennett know that you are interested in ... a get together."

Ronin almost shouted at Bruno, but held her tongue in check. "Oh yes Masterson-san, I whore for the right to die later? Will fucking get me out of a better than 99 per cent chance of death? If I could, I would, but I am no fool. Mr Bennett is using us competitors to line his pockets and keep the show going. This is his right. He owns me as much as we yakuza own whores and strippers." She couldn't help the tear trailing down her cheek. Am I in love with Bruno-san? Do I need his respect to see I am a worthy person and woman, and not a piece of meat to fuck and throw away when I am inconvenient?

She had not even felt a twinge or thought about Toshiro since she saw Bruno-san and this troubled her no little bit now. Was his kindness and gentlemanly politeness really what she wanted or needed?

"Forgive me if I am bitter, Bruno-san. I know You also must follow orders, no matter what. I am feeling at odds with my own loyalties and personal wants. I have given my word to Mr Bennett and will do whatever he wishes and make it look real good also. No matter what I feel or want."

She turned a way to not face him or her own inner turmoil. Am I some addled schoolgirl and not an enforcer for one of the most feared yakuza clans? Ugh. She quickly wiped the offending tear away and went to her quarters.

Things had been stressful and heart breaking for Bruno since his suggestion that Hitomi might benefit from a get-together with one of Breakfast's more elite fans.. He had continued to meet with Hitomi every four hours -- with the exception of the skipped meeting during her sleep period, or course -- and each time, they'd kept their dealings strictly to the training regimen. The usual, polite conversations and friendly banter they'd shared those first days had simply vanished. He doubted that they'd traded 48 words in those 48 hours.

It only got worse when the promised meeting with the other combatants was put off. And how, as he was getting ready to escort her to Tolan Park for her daily run, he was presenting her not with her usual running outfit -- a comfortable pair of running shorts and a loose fitting tee shirt -- but instead with a much smaller and tighter pair of spandex shorts and a barely large enough running top that was little more than a jogging bra.

Bruno was surprised when she didn't even ask about the wardrobe change. It was pretty obvious that she knew the reason: someone was going to be watching her today.

They got to Tolan and, as usual, Bruno sent her off on her run on the park's jogging path. Contrary to his normal routine, though, Bruno took a slow walk toward the north end of the park, watching Hitomi circle about the park at a rate that was far more impressive than the one just two days earlier. She was getting stronger by leaps and bounds; Bruno could see it in her steps, in her graceful movements ... even in the way she reacted to his presence.

He'd spotted the man within seconds of his appearance from beyond a handball wall at the end of the park. Hitomi was at the far end of the track, but Bruno saw her slow from her rapid run to a slow jog within seconds of his own sighting of the Elite; she'd probably been expecting a meeting here, Bruno told himself and had been scanning the park the entire time she'd been on the move.

Bruno stood in the middle of the park and waited for the now walking, cooling-down Hitomi to finally step up before the man. He couldn't hear the conversation, but he had a pretty good idea of what was going on over there. He took a moment to scan the perimeter of the park and found exactly what he had been told he would see; four snipers at different altitudes, in different directions, and -- barely hid beyond Woodward Avenue -- two jeeps with gunners standing behind their weapons, engine running, ready to react to any situation.

Ronin kept mulling her attitude toward Bruno through the next few days. To her own disgust and shame she started to get giddy around him and she would be damned if that would come out. Partially to save her shame but more to keep Bruno from being taken away. The park runs were some relief, it allowed her a sense of private time with Bruno, yet kept him far enough away she would not blurt out something unfortunate.

Then Bruno brought in the new jogging set and she numbly accepted the tiny things. She put them on, sans underwear and glumly set out on her run. She stretched herself each days run and to be honest showed off for Bruno and today was no different. She noticed Bruno being more alert than usual. She scanned the area and saw someone new watching her. Oh yes. The first of possibly many johns for this whore. The bitter thought echoed through her mind.

She slowed her running in stages until she was jogging as she neared the man. He was Asian, too far away for her to say whether Japanese or Chinese. He carried himself with confidence and power, the kind earned by money. She slowed to a walk and made sure it was that walk. Hips swaying, breasts jiggling and dripping in 'come-hither'. She bowed low to him.

"Greeting Sir. How may this humble person help You?"

"You are the one they call Ronin.", the man said. It wasn't a question, of course; he would never have been allowed out here had he not known exactly who was here and had those in charge not known exactly who he was himself. He repeated her bow, but more out of politeness than out of cultural courtesy. "I am Ronald Burton."

His smile spread, then he chuckled. He made a playful gesture, sweeping his opened hand below his face as if one of the prize girls from The Price is Right showing off a car. "Yes ... not the name you would expect with such a face, but I have been told that it goes well with the Southern California accent."

He allowed his gaze to drop for a moment to her body. He looked back up to her dark eyes, saying with a slight smirk, "I see you received my gift. It fits you better than my name fits me, yes...?"

He half turned, toward the jogging trail in the direction she had been traveling. "May I walk with you. I would like to ... get to know you, if you would allow."

He took a step then hesitated, waiting for her reaction. You can't buy free will, he reminded himself. He'd paid good money to meet Hitomi Ozawa; and, if things went well and he bedded her, he would pay much better money as well. But -- and, unfortunately, this was a but that Mister Bennett had explained he could not interfere with -- if the Yakuza murderess chose not to oblige him, Ronald Burton was, as his foul mouthed teenage son would phrase it, shit out of fuck.

Ronin nodded and turned back to the track. "My escort would be upset if I left the track area for too long. As for Ozawa Hitomi, she is dead. Call me Ronin, it is fitting for a dead thing to have a name for the last few days of her life. How may I please You, Burton-san?"

If she was going to make it look good she damn well would enjoy it and stretch it out, even making it pleasurable for the john. All the while she imagined his shrieks of agony as she tore his manhood off with her teeth, or his death rattle as she choked him with her thighs.

Yes, she would make the most of this, even if it made her look less in Bruno's eyes. She smiled demurely and made certain her body swayed with the hints and enticements of the pleasures she could give this Chinese man.

"How may I please You, Burton-san?"

Ronald's lips widened a bit. Oh, there are so many ways... he thought.

He looked beyond Hitomi to the man standing in the middle of the park, doing a poor job of pretending that he was paying the pair no particular attention. He looked back to the beauty beside him. "My company keeps a permanent suite in the DSA. My ... relationship with Mister Bennett offers me some privileges few people enjoy ... one of which is the ability to invite you ... to dinner."

He came to a stop at the near where the park sidewalk neared the bark dust path they were walking. He waited for her to turn to him before saying, "Ozawa Hitomi, in you eyes, may be dead ... but Ronin does not have to be. I ... can help you in your fight. Please ... let me help you."

He leaned a bit, looking past her toward Bruno. He gestured for the man to join them, then spoke softly to Hitomi, "I ... believe that you know what I am asking of you. What I can do for you could possibly save your life. Please ... have your man bring you to my suite ... Friday night ... seven o'clock."

He bowed to her, this time with a bit more ceremony...

"I shall be there Burton-san, but I do not think You can help me win my freedom. The contracts are rather binding. But I would enjoy making Your evening meal a pleasurable one."

Ronin smiled charmingly to the man and left with Bruno-san. "I am sorry Bruno-san. I have had much to think about. Would You please walk a lap with me? This way I may perhaps speak things aloud and sort emotions and mental puzzles into order."

"I am not a nice girl Bruno-san. You know this from my files You have read. I have lived by codes since I was able to walk. Always loyalty and honor and duty. Sometimes I put my needs back for the needs of my clan. Sometimes my needs were for the clan. Unlike many yakuza, I was born into it. My father and mother both were yakuza. Yes, mother ran a brothel. I had such dreams. To maybe be Oyabun[/I}, Boss of my clan. Something only one other woman in history ever did. I worked my way up, from numbers running, occassional hooking, to gathering girlfriends into an association, to enforcer. I will be the first to admit my faults. I am selfish and greedy. I can kill without losing sleep over it."
She laughed wryly. "Now I am facing my own death and I know I will die Bruno-san. I have been confused and in an emotional turmoil. I find I wanted more than this."
She continued walking looking at the graveled track. "I am falling in love with You. I feel shame that I am not a nice girl when I look at You. I even want to give up being yakuza, just to be with you. And I am in this now intolerable situation, where I have to play Bennett-san's game. Do not tell me of options. I must obey and do my duty. Will I enjoy being a whore for Bennett-san? No, I will die inside. Die of shame and heartbreak. I know nothing of You, but You respected me. Not as a yakuza killer, but as a woman." She stopped and looked up at Bruno. "Domo arrigato, Bruno-san." She then bowed low to him and when she stood, went to tiptoes and kissed him.
"I am sorry we can never be. It is what I want, but I have made my bed and now must lie in it. I wish..." She turned away and sobbed, then shaking her head ran to the truck crying all the way.