the japanese killer who smashed in nick's face last night. he's sitting in an interrogation room an hour later with a detective and a japanese translator. he won't talk.
thanks for the ride, detective.
holding charlie by his coat lapels. an express train tears into the station. kobo casually glances at
his eyes still on nick, drops charlie in front of the speeding express as if he were a sack of laundry.
keep the change.
here i am.
charlie was a rookie.
 but you can take care of yourself. you're 'the biggest thing to hit this town since godzilla.'
what's the matter. i'm right in front of you, nick. but i was right in front of you when you let charlie die.
walk away again. maybe you'll get used to it.
standing alone in the middle of a tatami room. his face is badly beaten. his hands are bound. two guards stand near the wall. nick and ich stand across the room.
no.  i'll arrange it.
stares defiantly at sugai. he doesn't even wince as the blade slices off his finger. the guard hands sugai the finger in a handkerchief.
ugly.  a couple of thousand years they've been bound by these little rules. looking in. always afraid. ugly little lives.
you are a lucky man. where you come from a man can stand out. it's expected. here a man is made to look a fool for standing out.
i like your friend, joyce. you're lucky.
she's such a long way home for you.
this is my stop.
don't be.
i have her.
i'll kill her.
i want the plate from your pal, sugai. when you get it, you get her.
then take it from him.
yes. do it.
gets to his feet. the biker tosses kobo the rifle. kobo works the charging lever and holds the weapon at his side. he has all the time in the world.
still on your knees, nick?
there's nothing you can do for me anymore. i have the plate. sugai's dead. no there is something.
you can tell me who i should shoot first.
the shooter, is holding a pistol -- a glock 17 automatic. he fires at
continues firing as he climbs onto a motorcycle. he pops the clutch and flies off down the road. nick fires after him, but kobo's gone.
waits and waits. nick draws closer. then, kobo tears off back down the mountain, shooting past nick.
bearing down on nick.
pulls his bike up inches in front of nick's head. nick seems to be bleeding everywhere: his hand, his nose, his mouth, the side of his head.
bang.  bang.
 you're dead.
opening the throttle.
twenty yards away.
screams in pain. he tries to stop too suddenly. the bike flips over. kobo flies into the air then hits the pavement on his side and rolls a few yards down the road. he stops on his back. it's lucky he's alive.
crawls toward it on his belly.
crawling snake-like.