Whats Death to A Ghost? RPG

"It's always lonely at the top." the thought echoed in the young crime lord's head as he looked at the pearl armor of his recently deceased father the Silver Samurai. Its marble display case emitted a laser shield which mimicked glass. Rain and a high -tech city provided the backdrop for his office which was housed in a towering skyscraper that rose above the canopy of lesser corporate buildings in the grunge port city of Los Diablos. His kingdom was being reconstructed piece by piece as his legion of shinobi secretly carried out missions of espionage, sabotage ,and recon under the veil of darkness while assimilating the resistant parts of his fathers empire into his own.

A floating orb hovered around the Kingpin as he walked on the granite and gold floor of his luxurious office space, its eye scanning the perfect anatomy of its master as he poured a glass of sake and lit a cigar,before comfortably plummeting into his throne like a lazy king. His orbital machine spoke in a smooth feminine voice after it completed its scan. " Sir. Your condition is worsening. The effects of your pills are slowly causing you to lose a grasp of this reality. Your brain will not be able to handle much more. I suggest you hasten your search for alternatives,its imperative that your soldiers find an ingredient that can replace the toxins in your capsules."

Akira simply laughed maniacally at his assistant and continued to smoke his cigar furiously,filling most of the room up with an aroma of vices. Things were already in place,his plans for world domination had already begun and the last thing he was worried about was his health. He ignored any further thoughts and slowly began to doze off to the sound of rain hitting his massive windows,but just as he reached a slight dreamspace the security alarms began to blare. He dropped both the cigar and liquor.

The Devil Prince immediately stood with a delight as his long flowing black hair draped over his crimson Versace suit with an almost lethal elegance of some sort. Without a moments hesitation his assistant holographically displayed the security monitors and assessed the situation with pinpoint accuracy.

"Sir. I believe someone is here to see you,didn't set up an appointment either. " Akira scoffed at the thought of someones arrogance and ordered his machine to dispatch his elite guard known as the Capsule Raiders. If this was someone worthy enough to bypass his first phase security then they deserved to fight his finest. Once again Yamato was in a state of relaxation as he poured another glass and lit a black clove cigarette this time. The orb displayed vitals of all combatants and widened the holographic screen after dimming the bright lights. He smiled as he took a puff and noticed who the intruder was. The same man that his ninja said they saw assassinate his father.... this man was The Mercenary.

Raised By Wolves played on the blue and orange clad figure's iPod, his earphones tucked into his disfigured ears, deposited safely within the amalgamated mask of the Mercenary, the likes of which revealed a single scarlet eye that appear luminescent within the dark confines of Akira Overdrive's skyscraper lobby. A few freshly deceased corpses littered his leg space and he had to step over them to reach the elevator, humming out the scream part of the song's chorus, headbanging calmly to the metalcore tunes. The assassin wondered whether he'd have be hired to murder Ronnie Radke. This lead to questions much more thought provoking. Would he take the hit? Falling In Reverse was a great band, but everybody in the hit-man business knew there were few things as satisfying as taking out a celeb.

The 6 foot assassin of ages past and future's train of thought was derailed by the sudden cease of movement concerning the elevator. Without bothering to pause the song, the Son of Death flicked the driblets of blood off of the tip of his hunting knife and twirled it around nonchalantly within a single hand, taking a calm step backwards, mere nano-seconds before three Capsule Raiders pierced the ceiling of the loft and landed before him, a variety of deadly weapons brandished fiercely within their collectively fatal grasps. The Mercenary gave them a slight wave, giggling lightly for a moment before he threw himself at them, managing to press skip on his iPod instants before he made contact. Cut The Curtains, Billy Talent. A song perfectly befitting for the mood. Merc was rather proud of his "Office Hours Playlist", which consisted of some of the most badass jams he possessed.

Twin katana coming towards him, one aimed at his jugular, the latter tearing through the confined space at his torso. Humming along to the riff of the tune blaring within his auditory system, the Mercenary brought his hunting knife up, elbow forming a 90 degree angle and allowing him to deflect the higher blade. Simultaneously, he tapped the tip of the remaining weapon with his index finger, just managing to inch it away from his body and have the Raider overbalance himself, allowing Merc the opportunity to rip out the masterful combatant's throat with the same hand not an instant later. Refusing to cease his momentum, the Lord of Life committed himself to swerving into the just-killed Capsule Raider, narrowly evading an unseen flurry of wakizashi strikes from behind. Chuckling excitedly, the Mercenary launched the lifeless being like a ragdoll, using him as an obstruction whilst he took out another of the Raider's allies. This accomplishment involved parrying a bone-jarringly powerful roundhouse kick with his heel and utilizing the ensuing momentum to unleash a roundhouse of his own, taking the second Raider's face off upon impact.

"Intermission's a mission on it's own."

The last Raider stared at the Mercenary with dead eyes, a hunting knife embedded firmly within his forehead and pinning him to the wall of the elevator, a frightfully dark crimson liquid oozing from the deadly yet deceased ninja's face. The Son of Death retrieved his weapon and wiped it off on the shinobi shozoku of one of the corpses, opting to exit the cramped space via the hole within the ceiling of the shaft. Piná Colades came on and Merc began his traversal of the skyscraper's inner elevator system with a peaceful spirit, what some might call the calm before the storm.

"Fcksakes... You guys don't know when to stop."

Mounds upon mounds of massacred human flesh lay around the Sadistic Shinigami, his own form having undergone minor changes within the past ten minutes, primarily the numerous cuts across his costume that revealed his grotesquely scarred flesh, already having regenerated from the wounds. A lone Raider limped towards him, both arms severed at the bicep and a pathetic scalp hanging loosely by a single thread of skin. The Mercenary would commend Akira Overdrive's elite squad of ninja if he weren't so occupied with the sweet tunes of River Below, another by Billy Talent. Whistling the second verse quietly to himself, the Lord of Life strode past the defeated yet resilient final Capsule Raider, pushing him over with two fingers and chuckling profusely. He stopped before his target's office doors and turned, chucking a tiny grenade at the centre of the mess of human bodies behind him. Bracing himself, the Mercenary couldn't help but eit another series of crazed giggles, cut short by the mighty explosion behind him, the likes of which propelled him through the doors and straight into Akira Overdrive's mythical quarters, a plume of fearsome pyre in his wake.

The plan was in full motion as the dangerous marksman lay quietly next to his sniper rifle in the adjacent building of Akira Yamato's prestigious tower. This rifle holder had been watching everything unfold as if he was a stone gargoyle perched on a ledge hawking vigilantly over a bustling metropolis. His orders were clear and direct from the bossman himself. Intercept Intruder and Capture Alive..if possible. As the lead Capsule Raider known as codename Clutch, those words "if possible" stuck out like a sore thumb but his ego centered his focus and he held his gun tightly as he peered through its variable zoom scope with thermal vision. The vision modifier was perfect for this mission,because it was about to get real cold. He smiled at the thought of Akira leaving him to handle the man that killed his father,it was dignifying.

By now the Devil Prince Akira had already left the building in his private Black Hawk helicopter with his fathers precious armor in tow as he clandestinely slipped through the shadows while the Lord of Life had mercilessly ran through Clutch's peers. Through radio communication and enhanced vision the Ice Ranger knew exactly what was going on in the building across from him. It was time to initiate the S-Rank mission his brother entrusted him with as The Mercenary abruptly burst through the doors of Akira's office with a fierce intent to kill and a trail of embers following behind him. The mere force of the grenades destroyed the wide glass windows and the smell of a rainy city now filled the lofty business space. "Perfect." Clutch thought to himself as he remotely and slowly began to fill the room with a frigid mist that iced over the entire room,dropping the temperature to degrees below 0. He was almost impressed that he could produce his arctic powers from such a far distance but paid no attention to that thought and loaded his sniper rifle.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! five shots rang out with extreme precision and velocity aimed at the orange and blue clad killer who had came to murder Akira. Of course they wouldn't be merely enough to finish off the opponent, they were just warning shots disguised as his entrance music. In an instantaneous nano-second Clutch had teleported from his sniper's nest into the lions den via the cold vapors he sent their earlier.

The Hidden Mist Assassin was in the same room as his lethal assignment and couldn't help but laugh and address his opponent with a snarky attitude. He was well covered in the thick fog that shrouded his indigo shinobi garments and movement as he spoke out to the Mercenary while simultaneously sending a barrage of poison tipped shuriken at everywhere he predicted the killer was and would go.

" Sorry,Akira's not in right now. Care to leave a message?"

"Waittaminute..."

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Five shots, five bullets, five impacts.

The Mercenary staggered backwards groggily, glancing down at the perfectly circular formation of entry holes situated across his sternum. It made him smirk, despite the situation and despite his affliction, he couldn't help but admire the artistry involved in such a manoeuvre. Collapsing to a single knee, he made a concerted effort at raising his face towards the origin of the mysterious assault, a rooftop across the way from what the King of Kill had assumed to be the office of Akira Overdrive. No, this was definitely his office. He just wasn't here.

He'd fled? The Mercenary's smirk grew larger and he couldn't restrain a cackle, feeling his consciousness begin to sway. He struggled to both feet again, reaching across his being and activating a mechanism installed within the fabric of his suit that would regain the composure of his required thermal qualities. Whoever his opponent was, the being was good. Temperatures much lower than O degrees Celsius lessened the haste of the Mercenary's regenerative factor, which would handicap him terribly in a fight. And whilst he enjoyed a good challenge, the Lord of Life treasured his healing abilities and would not let them be extracted from a scrap, no matter the circumstances. Coughing roughly, the Assassin of Ages Past and Future felt his form return to it's preferred state. Those pesky bullets popped out of his flesh one by one and he swivelled, taking in his surroundings for the first time since recovering from his recklessly self-inflicted explosion.

The office was expansive, and before the intrusion of fire, it had been luxuriously decorated. Now it was tainted an ugly, ashy black, frozen over by whatever unseen force was driving the cold. The Mercenary took an instantaneous dislike to whoever the guy was. Nobody even enjoyed being cold, what kind of sick fck inflicted that sort of uncomfortability upon someone? There was a valley's worth of mist around here too, almost as unnatural as the anatomy-less Mercenary.

"Sorry, Akira's not in right now. Care to leave a message?"

7 o'clock.

The Maestro of Murder's world crawled to a stop and he spun, picking out a variety of projectiles in the air between him and his invisible assailant. Without bothering to initiate any immediate efforts at evading the fatal barrage of shuriken, the Mercenary used the trajectory of the weapons to pin-point the newcomer's location. Feeling a smirk begin to break out across his mutilated skin, the King of Kill felt time rush back at him and he stepped into the tide of poison-tipped ninja bullets. Utilizing an uncanny set of reflexes honed by Death herself, the Mercenary performed a series of impossibly acrobatic manoeuvres, rolling underneath the first few shuriken, altering his course and corkscrewing himself over the next armada and completing the fluid array of movement with dazzlingly fast footwork, stepping in and out of the paths of numerous projectiles.

He was mere feet away from the source of the weapons now. But reaching the disguised figure would require facing some sharp edges. Gritting his teeth and throwing both arms out at his sides, he felt twin daggers slide into his palms, and without hesitating he tightened his grasp on their hilt's and took the full brunt of at least three shuriken, feeling an extra fourth tear away at one of his shoulders, despite the immediate agony he post-poned worrying about the effects of the poison until after his counter-attack. His incredible sense of momentum carried him forwards at the invisible assailant like a train, and once more capitalizing upon his acute reaction speeds, the King of Kill brought both arms across in an attempt to launch the fatally sharp daggers at his opponent. Refusing to underestimate his foe's ability, the Mercenary proceeded to step through the air and teleport directly behind where he had pin-pointed the arrogant character to be. Should the figure evade the daggers, the Lord of Life would merely catch the weapons out of the air and redirect them towards the Assassin's Assassin. In the chance that the daggers did connect with the man, the Mercenary would only aim to inflict more pain upon the being by striking out with a fearsome stomp to the spine, the kick possessing enough force to fell a tree.

Several Hours Earlier

Aiden Yamato the half brother of Akira Yamato stood under a pantheon of bright light while his sibling walked around him as if he was discovering a new species, poking and observing diligently the ice hard flesh of his mutant brother. For months Akira had been feeding his most elite Capsule Raider a cocktail of gene-altering drugs that would allow a normal human's latent mutant ability to surface. In his latest research and endeavors of world domination Akira synthesized numerous unknown chemicals and performed gene-splicing operations on the shinobi at his expense ,and gathered mind-blowing data that would usher the mutant/human war into a new stage. For now though,Akira would wait and send his first test subject Aiden out into the world as the poster boy for his wild experiments, and Clutch was more then willingly. He was excited about these new powers and relished in the face of danger.

"Before you go, I should let you know that your powers will fluctuate until you get a full grasp and understanding of them. You may try to push yourself to the limits and beyond,but it might mean your death." Akira warned his brother then retired to his master suite.

The Fray

The Ranger of Fortune could hear the movement of the deadly assassin like he could hear each flap of a hummingbirds wings. He was already locked onto the unique energy signature that The Mercenary had and was thoroughly impressed by the graceful movements of the Lord of Life who dodged the shuriken like a swan in mid flight. It reminded him a lot of Akira and he almost began to become paralyzed in fear after realizing what he was really facing. Was he ready ? Could he even fight someone of this caliber? Or would he "freeze" up and die? A million questions ran through Aiden's head in flashes,and before he knew it he was being sent backwards as two well place daggers impaled his chest ,then was jerked the opposite way in an instant by a tremendous kick that would have shattered his spine had his instinct not kicked in and formed a shield of ice on his body just moments before impact.

Clutch flew through the air and slightly grimaced in pain as he halted his momentum with a series of aerial flips,and landed on the balls of his feet in a frog like manner,keeping his piercing blue eyes on the assailant while nonchalantly pulling the daggers from his chest and sealing the wounds with his organic ice matter. If there was a moment to be serious it was now. He knew Big Brother was watching and decided that this day would not be his last. His chi was reaching its zen point as he internally and spiritually focused his chakras in order to reach a blissful state that only the legendary martial artist have been known to obtain after years of practice; Clutch learned it in minutes.

In that moment the Hidden Mist Ninja had profound clarity as he sprung forward from his crouching position into a roll followed up by a launching kick that was aimed directly at the Mercenary's solar-plexus,hoping to burst the mans heart or at least break his bones. Parry,block, or land Clutch used his momentum to carry himself up and over his target; sending a thrust at his enemy's head with one of his dual katanas in the brief moment where he was suspended above the Death Dog before landing behind him. Upon landing The Capsule Shinobi sent a barrage of nerve-hits in rapid succession at the body of the Merc with extreme precision then lept out of the broken window before sending a multitude of sticky thermicide semtex disc that would incinerate the entire top half of the building.

While in freefall Clutch detonated the disc and activated his vibranium soles on his suit so when he landed on the ground with massive force his shoes would absorb the shock. After he crashed into a car he awaited the result of his strategy as the rain began to turn torrential in the True Sin City.

His opponent faced the Mercenary's brutal combination of attacks without hesitation, enforcing his spine and recovering from his short force induced flight with a series of beautiful acrobatic movements extremely similar to those the King of Kill himself had just demonstrated, but better. Utilizing his photographic reflexes, the Mercenary memorized the flips and smirked beneath his mask, already propelling himself forwards at this newcomer. He wouldn't give him a chance to counter-atta-

FWIP

A foot sailed past the Lord of Life's waist and time seemed to move as if suspended within quicksand, every moment spread out before the Ranger of Fortune's eye, each detail crystal clear to him. How fast was this guy? The Mercenary had barely seen him coming, a last minute flash of colour alerting him to the figure's approach. A kick like that... Man, a kick like that would have burst straight through his body.

And before he knew it things were mobilizing again and he was caught within the thick of things, primarily an airborne opponent and an oncoming blade. The Mercenary was unable to evade this particular strike, having committed his being to dodging the previous attack. The sound of his sudden laughter was mixed in with the sickening crunch of steel upon skull as the weapon cut straight through where his brain should have rested, but was non-existent due to the Lord of Life's unnatural, impossible anatomy. Nonetheless the assault proved powerful and the Mercenary staggered forwards a foot, his body propelled by the momentum inflicted upon him. Without bothering to clear space between himself and the unknown shinobi, knowing such an action would require his full bodily capabilities upon facing such a swift combatant, the King of Kill merely glanced across his shoulder, recognizing the precursor to a flurry of deadly nerve-strikes, every single muscle in the Mist Maestro's form already dedicated to the performance.

The Mercenary chuckled again, swerving his own figure a few centimetres to the side to avoid having his right arm affected by the fatal onslaught of bodily manipulation. Every other facility within his form was shut down by his frightful foe instantaneously. He collapsed to the ground, laughing raucously all the while as he watched the masterful shinobi backtrack, satisfied with his manoeuvre. The King of Kill immediately detected the cluster of thermicide disks within his opponents hands and he realized the immensity of the situation, but continued cackling regardless.

He was having the time of his life.

The Mercenary utilized his right arm, the only remaining active limb upon his being and struck several spots across his form, performing the action with such speed that his hand blurred, almost turning invisible. He had unlocked the majority of his afflicted nerve clusters via an ancient technique taught to him by Death, managing to initiate a no hands kip up and sprinting at the shattered window, leaping out of it an instant before the explosives reached their target designation and released enough collective force to disintegrate every particle of the Mercenary's form. The brunt of the blast would continue past the building's exterior and despite possessing an incredible amount of momentum behind his leap, the Shinigami Supreme would not be able to escape it's clutches with hang time alone. Emitting a single whoop of joy, the Mercenary popped away instantaneously, narrowly evading the explosion's radius and performing a series of short-teleportation bursts through the air, stepping out of the air directly before his now grounded opponent.

"Whoa! You're playin' for keeps man. Almost had me there."

The Son of Death reached up with both palms, pushing each side of his halved skull back into place and moving his jaw around a bit, feeling his regenerative factor kick in without another moment's hesitation. Leaning back upon the hood of another car across the street from his foe, the Mercenary cast a lazy finger at him, whistling slightly through his teeth.

"What they call you? You Akira's personal bodyguard or what? I'm presuming you know who I am."

Primarily out of sheer arrogance. The King of Kill's tone was a mixture between mock impressment and a nonchalant amusement, as per usual. His costume was in shreds, but it only inflicted a more intimidating air upon him, his 6'5 frame rippling with muscle. He tilted his head slightly for a moment, considering the stylishly garbed shinobi briefly before he teetered forwards upon the balls of his feet and tore twin Mercers from their holsters, weapons similar in appearance to a pistol but comprised of extremely intricate technology and enough fire-power to level a small building, each bullet the size of a golf ball. He fired off numerous shots instantaneously, refusing to release his grip on the triggers until the clip consisting of 8 bullets each had dried out. Utilizing his memorization of his opponent's acrobatic instincts, the Lord of Life had a frightfully transparent indication of how the being would move upon initiating his evasion techniques, and would follow his every twitching with a swift, unforgiving eye. The Mercenary strode forwards as he performed the brutal onslaught, ruthless, relentless.

Laughing.

BOOM!

The sound of the explosion was deafening and its vibrations could be felt for miles as the thermicide tore through the entire skyscraper,almost leveling it to a pile of dust. Hot ashes and falling glass would surely have severely damaged any bystanders had Akira not cleared a 5 mile radius of the city solely for the fight between his bodyguard and the artist of his attempted assassination. This was a masterpiece in the making that would be hung in his archives of other Death Portraits. Clutch watched intently as the Mercenary flawlessly bent time and space with teleportation techniques after jumping from the explosive trap in order to land with grace on the grimy concrete of Los Diablos. A gesture of conversation was initiated for a brief moment until his opponent drew twin pistols and began firing as if his previous jargon was just arrogant rhetorical questions made to taunt him. With a swift flick of the wrist the Arctic Assassin summoned an ice wall as a barrier between the projectiles and himself but did not realize that the bullets were more then just your average ammunition until four of the eight heat cannons pierced his defense and came dangerously close to ending his life. Had he not made slight dexterous alterations in his movement he would have lost limbs instead of being simply grazed by the shots. His arm and legs began to burn with a painful sensation that he had not felt before.

"Bastard." Clutch cursed the killer in his head while running through millions of battle scenarios and plans to takedown this maniac he was facing. This battle was not going to be won on his end if he charged straight forward and engaged the Regenerating Ravager in a contest of body-hacking,this would be have to be won with impeccable timing and undaunted strategy. In seconds the Ace of Espionage had planned out his next 200 moves and wasted no time acting on them as he made a full sprint into the shadows from behind his shattered barrier while holding his injured left arm and simultaneously constructing an exact animated Ice Clone that pulled away from his body like a dead man's soul. The clone who was a perfect replicate of Clutch mocked it's owners speed as it dashed in the direction of the Mercenary,closing in on him in seconds with well-placed strikes from the Death Dance of Kali; a dual sword tornado attack that gave off the impression of more then two arms attacking with several swords. Hopefully the Ice Clone would duel the Mercenary with enough vigor to convince the deadly man that he was actually facing Clutch,while it's master hid in the shadows waiting for another opening to attack. For now he gathered energy and was in a place of zen like a spider on its web waiting for prey.

A solid wall of obscuring ice was thrown before Clutch, shielding him from the brunt of the devastatingly large bullets and ultimately saving his life at the last possible moment. The Mercenary chuckled at his opponent's intelligent method of self-preservation and holstered his weapons, spinning them around upon each finger as he performed the action. Not a moment later a figure burst through the mystically formulated barricade of ice, sprinting forwards at such incredible speeds that were it not for the King of Kill's omniscient set of reflexes he would have been skewered by the Slicing Shinobi within less than a second. Unable to initially unsheathe his own blades, the Mercenary was coerced into utilizing his bare hands for the troublesome task of defending himself against the lethal Death Dance of Kali.

He howled with laughter, simultaneously committing every muscle upon his form into deflecting and parrying the near-impossibly paced slices from his formidable enemy, the Assassin's Assassin. His palm shot out, slapping the flat of a blade out of the air and then immediately pulling back to evade a follow-up, swatting that particular swipe inches from his face with a single swift backhand. He suffered three instantaneous gashes across his sternum soon thereafter and following a painful wound across his forehead decided he required his own weapons were he to turn this tide of fury inflicted ferocity. Patiently coping with the plethora of continuous blade strikes he timed his counter-attack perfectly, catching both swords simultaneously with a single orange gloved palm and allowing his foe an incredibly acute sudden pull, not enough to stop the Dance of Death but a finely measured amount for clearing some space between the two beings. The Mercenary enforced his temporary escape with a perfectly executed back-flip, unsheathing his ebony tinted katana whilst in mid-air and upon having the soles of his feet kiss the earth once more launching himself at his opponent with full force, giggling maniacally as he performed the powerful manoeuvre.

Using a single hand to wield the light weapon and performing incredibly precise movements with his blade he deflated the Arctic Assassin's Dance of Death quickly, his own skill regarding the artistry that was swordsmanship almost surpassing that of the relentless Clutch. He began to gain ground and was set to finish the duel when a sound from the shadows diverted his attention and both of his determined foe's weapons sank into his stomach, impaling him and exiting out of his back an instant later. The Mercenary growled beneath his breath, cursing his lapse in concentration but refusing to allow his opponent the upper-hand. He stepped into the blades' combined embrace to bring himself closer to the Carnivorous Clutch and brought his katana across in an ingenious attempt at beheading the ninja, committing himself to immediately removing the steel within his being a moment later so that his form may begin it's regeneration.