Double Trouble

Hosain Nazari waited patiently outside the grim house, looking at his watch for a third time. It had been years since he had dared to set foot on this property, but tonight there was no other way. The sun was fading into the western sky, beautiful even in death. The tree he leaned against shaded him from the glare, but he wouldn't have minded a little bit of light at a time like this. And it's only going to get darker, he told himself.

It seemed like hours before he heard the door open, and more hours before the shadow of the man he had once known had walked the length of the front yard to open the rusty front gate. He detached himself from the hulking tree and put himself square in the way of his old partner.

"Hosain?" Pejman's voice was thick with shock.

"Did you expect someone less Persian, sweetling?"

"What in God's name are you doing here? You know what Mike will do if he see's you." Pejman was recovering from the initial surprise quite well. It had been over ten years.

"I expect I do know," Hosain said grimly, "But there are more important things to worry about than Mike's reactions."

"What's more important than keeping your head? Mike's not the same singer-songwriter you remember from our carefree youth-"

"I know. And that's part of the reason I'm here."

"What do you mean? What does Mike have to do with you?"

"Maybe everything. Maybe nothing. That's what I'm here to find out." Hosain peered over Pejman's shoulder and took the measure of the decaying Victorian household behind him. "He in there?"

"He's asleep." Pejman answered cautiously, "He always goes to sleep early on Fridays. He's been having terrible dreams as of late."

"Guilty conscience perhaps?"

"Why don't you just spit it out, what's this all about? I think I have a right to know."

"All right then, I'll be frank with you, for the friendship we once had. Surely you remember Hector Jimenez."

"Of course." Pejman and Hector had been thick as thieves once, Hosain recalled. He had never warmed to the boy himself, but his impish grin had been a needed relief during the three turgid years of Castillero Middle School.

"What would you say if I told you Mike Huguenor murdered Hector Jimenez?" Hosain watched Pejman's reaction, obvious as the sun set.

"I'd tell you to get lost. That's crazy. It doesn't make any sense."

"Oh yes it does." A new voice said, suddenly.

"Wha-??" Pejman and Hosain said in unison, turning to face the newcomer. And there he stood, Mike Huguenor, Don of the powerful DiMeo crime family and former samurai.

"Mikey, what are you doing out of bed?" Pejman said worried.

"Don't fret about me. I'm about to teach ol' Hosain here something he should have learned years ago. Don't mess with the best."

Hosain felt Mike's presence behind him and he turned around with a powerful back fist! "HENGE!!"

Hosain stopped mid-punch and gawked! His eyes widened seeing a blonde beauty posing sexily and blowing a kiss at him. His left eye twitched. His nose started to bleed.

"Hosain-sama...!" She approached him within the smoke cloud, walking sexily, emphasizing her assets. He bent close to him, giving him a good view of mountainous cleavage.

Hosain's nose was bleeding more.

She suddenly smirked and slugged the genius rookie with a powerful haymaker, sending the boy flying out of the smoke screen. As the cloud started to disipate, Mike quickly stopped his Oiroke no Jutsu, the Sexy Technique, and clenched his fist, grinning at Hosain.

Hosain looked up at Mike with an angered expression. He was angered at Mike for pulling such a dirty trick. But he was especially angry at himself for just falling for it!

"Dobe," Block-head, he called Mike. "That was low..."

"HA!" Taunted the loud ninja. "I thought a genius ninja was suppose to be prepared for everything. But now I know... You're a closet pervert!!" He pointed acusingly.

Hosain narrowed his eyes. That was the straw that broke the camels back. He leaped back high into the air until he was high atop the stadium wall, sticking to the concrete barrier by concentrating chakra into his feet. He glared at Mike and started doing hand seals.

Monkey, Dragon, Rat, Bird, Ox, Dog, Tiger, Money. Then he did a reverse arm grab to his left arm, holding his left arm with his right by the wrist, back-hand close to the wall and palm facing up. Sparks of chakra started to build up in his palm.

It started to sound like... chirping birds.

"WAIT!!!! STOPPPPP!!!!!!"

The fighting abruptly ended as if some enormous angry bubble had been popped. Pejman's mouth was shut, both fighters realized, and he looked as shocked as they did at the mysterious roar. Stepping out from behind the tree stood....

HOSAIN???

"What? This can't be!" Pejman said, looking from one Hosain to the other. He raised his Colt Revolver and pointed it at the newcomer. "Who are you?"

"It's me. The real Hosain."

Pejman looked over to where Mike and Hosain were in a temporary stalemate. "No, Pej. It's me. I'm the real Hosain."

Pejman moved the gun from Hosain to Hosain. They looked exactly the same. Moved exactly the same.

"He's a clone," the newcomer said, "He's had me captive for years now, ever since that party at Mark's house when the Big Lebowski was on and Alex smoked more than necessary. That was the night I ceased being me."

The Hosain near Mike laughed at that notion. "That's vile calumny! Come on Pejman! We all know there are no such things as clones. That's crazy. Ridiculous, as Tim would say. Absurd!"

Mike was just backing up silently, not wanting to be anywhere near. He wondered if he had remembered to order the new Puddle of Mudd album.

The new Hosain said in slow even tones, "Listen Pejman. I am the real one. But you don't have to believe me. Not yet at least. But I'm not trying to murder Mike. He is. And I'm here to help."

That resolved him. Pejman leveled the gun at the former Hosain.

"Pej, no! What about all our good times? I wasn't really going to hurt him, we're just playing-"

Pejman squeezed the trigger and sent Hosain into eternity.