Chapter 1

"Don't even bother trying to call the police—we've cut the phone lines. But just in case…everyone! Slide your cell phones towards us!" The young woman demanded.

She looked very young. She wore her strange, deep blue colored hair up in a bun. She had bangs that were straight across, reaching about where her eyebrows would be and on the side of her face laid long pieces of hair that would come to a point, reaching her collarbone.

She wore a white dress that went straight down to her wrists would lie. The dress also had no sleeves, but her shoulder were covered, and the neckline went straight across where her collarbone and neck. She wore white, flat, tall boots that reached up just almost meeting the dress length. Her face was hidden by a traditional Japanese mask—an ugly, white, Hannya mask. She was holding up a Japanese long sword, a Tachi, and a handgun was held close to her hips by a thick, red yarn being tied around her waist and around the gun.

The people in the café took out their phones and slid them towards her feet, doing as they were told. Many people laid flat on the ground, terrified. Most cafés wouldn't be robbed—really, how often would a café be robbed?

"Good. Ookami, check out the register." She ordered.

"Right." The older woman spoke.

The older woman, seeming-or sounding-about 30, that went by Ookami wore the traditional Japanese fox demon mask—or, a white with red pattern Ookami mask. Her skin was the color of burnt sienna, and because of the Ookami mask, you could only see her bottom jaw, but her face was also hidden. Her hair reached about her shoulders and had a really choppy style to it. She has no bangs and her hairline showed a widow's peak. Her hair was dyed a slightly dark violet with apple green highlights and tips.

She wore a white, Chinese influenced,half shirt that was baggy towards the bottom with one side showing bare shoulder while the other had a long, flowing sleeve. Her white skirt flowed to her knees while having a slit toward the front of her right leg. She also wore white Japanese styled socks that went up to her knees and white stained Japanese sandals—or, white stained setta. Her Japanese sword was an ordinary katana and also an ordinary handgun which hung from yarn like the girl with the Hannya mask.

She pointed her katana at the 40 year old woman behind the counter, "Move—with your hands behind your head and get to the ground."

Without hesitation, she did as she was told. Ookami quickly went behind the register, "Hey, Ronin, toss me the bag!"

Ronin, a term for a rogue samarai, tossed her a gym bag. He wore an unattractive, silver painted samurai mask. His hair was brown and messy. He wore a white, crew neck t-shirt and a white jacket and white jeans and sneakers. As a belt, he also wore thick yarn that held his weapons, but unlike the others, his Wakizashi sword was held by the yarn and his gun was out.

"Do they make good money here?" Ronin asked.

"Just as expected…but, I doubt it will satisfy you." Ookami answered, quickly tossing the money in to the bag."

"You heard her! Satisfy me by handing over all your purses and wallets—now!" Ronin ordered as he pointed his gun around the room.

The one with the Hannya masked looked up to see a camera—a working camera. She quickly pulled out her gun and shot the lens, "I thought I told them to turn everything off!"

"Hey, relax, Hannya—they're only kids. It's not like it should be first nature to them." Ookami defended said kids.

"Besides, what one little video of us is going to do, huh?" Ronin gave a bit of a chuckle. "We're famous enough as it is!"

"More like infamous…" Ookami zipped up the bag.

"The more we expose ourselves in anyway and the more easily we can get caught—" Hannya quickly stopped and started listening. She could hear sirens quickly growing in volume, "Crap! The cops!"

Ronin quickly turned around at the civilians, "Who called?"

"Idiot! Don't worry about that, let's just leave!" Ookami barked.

"To the back—Hell Cat and Kabuki should have the car ready to go." Hannya ordered.

"Oh hell no! I'm not letting that kid drive!" Ronin complained.

"Shut up and just follow orders!" Ookami snapped, grabbing hold of his jacket and she quickly brought him along, "No time to argue here!"

They quickly ran to the back of the café where there was a white pick-up truck. In the front seat was a boy no older than 14 with a bleach-white cap that covered his blond hair, white zip-up jacket with a white t-shirt, shorts, and white sneakers and he wore a strange looking Japanese cat-like mask-white with red markings.

In the passenger seat was a girl no more than eight. She wore a white, formal looking dress with sleeves that were slightly puffed and the skirt reaching her knees. Her socks had lace on the top and she wore white, shiny shoes. In her golden, thick curled hair had a white ribbon tied in it. Her mask was a Kabuki dancer style mask—with a white face and painted red lips, eyes outlined in black with a single light blue dot shaped in a tear.

"Hello!" Kabuki giggled.

"Kabuki, Hell Cat, get ready—the cops are coming." Hannya explained as she, Ronin, and Ookami quickly went into the back seats. "Drive!"

"Aye, aye, ma'am." The boy, Hell Cat, quickly turned the key and quickly stepped on the gas pedal as he turned the wheel to turn.

The group dove away, taking a different road than the cops, driving as casual as the can before they slowly gained speed, still hoping to go unnoticed. They didn't worry about how they wore masks since the windows were very tinted, but it was the car that they hoped they didn't recognized. Soon, they quickly blended in with the traffic.

Down at the Los Angeles police station, the chief of police sat at his desk as he rubbed his temples in frustration. He was a man in his early 50's, though he looked a bit more older than he really was, having thinning, graying hair and a thick mustache. He was a bit plump, but in great physical shape. The wrinkles on his face and the graying hair were more from stress than aging.

"So, you're telling me they got away once again…?" the chief, Mr. Tanner, sighed once more. He slammed his fist down to his desk, "How the hell is it hard to catch a group that stands out from the crowd?"

"Sorry, Chief…" The rooky apologized as he informed his boss, "But maybe we'll catch them next—"

"We tell each other that every time!" Chief Tanner snapped, "How the hell are we letting a group that robs cafés, Target, and markets get away so easily? Hell—there are two that are rainbow colored, a man with the rainbow colored freaks, and they bring along two kids with them! On top of that—they wear only white and masks!"

"But we've gathered lots of evidence though." The rooky spoke very optimistically, "We can soon finally—"

"What evidence have we gathered? How are they helping us now?" Chief Tanner shouted.

"W-Well…what do you suppose we should do then?" Rooky asked.

The chief reclined in his seat in thought, rubbing his nose a bit, "Well…I suppose we can call up some old friend-enemies…"

"Friend-enemies, sir…?"

"…Tell me, Rooky, have you ever heard of: The Company?"