It was a cold, snowy night in Kyoto, Japan. It has been about nine years since Japan surrendered to the US during WWII. Kaito Kimotsuki, has been wandering around Japan, since he found an ancient scroll in the hands of his fallen comrade, during the battle of Manila bay. This scroll was one of the Seven Scrolls of Bushido. This scroll granted Kaito immortality from natural causes. So now he has been wandering to find the other seven. Finally he reached his destination: an old penthouse, on the peak of a snowy mountain. It has been rumored that a man with super human strength lives there. Kaito believes this man has the fifth scroll.

Kaito walked up to the penthouse, and saw the sign.

“ロイヤルドラゴンのホーム” or “The home of the Royal Dragon.”

Kaito entered without knocking, and there was a man dressed in blue robes with white dragon designs and a dragon mask was sitting reverently.

“Who dares to enter the Royal Dragon’s Home?” The man asked with a sharp voice.

Kaito presented himself and bowed.

“I am Kaito Kimotsuki.”

The Royal Dragon bowed without getting up from his criss-crossed position.

“I am Roiyaru Doragon.” He said, “What brings you here to my chambers?”

“I have searched far and wide for the Seven Scrolls of Bushido.” Kaito said. “I hear you have gotten your strength from one.”

“Hmm, have you found any other yet?” Roiyaru asked. Thinking that he could take the one Kaito already has.

“The first one.” Kaito answered. “It grants me immortality from natural causes.”

Roiyaru tried to hide his deception. He knew if he could kill Kaito, then he could obtain his power.

“I’ll tell you what.” Roiyaru started. “I have something you want, and you have something I want. The only way to settle it is for one of us to give the other an honorable death.”

Kaito was skeptical at first. This man is definitely stronger than a regular person, how is Kaito to defeat him? Then Kaito thought about how these scrolls bought purpose to his life. He would rather die fighting for his purpose, than leave a failure.

“I’ll do it.” Kaito said.

“Very well.” Roiyaru said

In a split second, Roiyaru unsheathed his blade, and was slicing at Kaito’s throat. Kaito swiftly grabbed his own blade, and blocked Roiyaru’s attack. There blades buckled and they were staring each other in the eye.

“The scroll will be mine!” Roiyaru declared.

“I don’t think so!” Kaito remarked, and he slipped his sword out of the clash and took a stab at Roiyaru, who blocked it with his sword. Due to Roiyaru’s enhanced strength, the block threw Kaito off balance, giving Roiyaru an opening. Roiyaru took advantage of the opening and kicked Kaito in the chest. The strength of the kick was so great, it sent Kaito flying across the room. Kaito hit a wall, leaving a huge crack, then fell on his hands and knees. Roiyaru then jumped from his spot and tried to slice down on Kaito. Kaito avoided the strike as quick as he can.

“Ha, first blood.” Roiyaru snickered. Kaito saw blood on Roiyaru’s blade, and looked at his left arm. It had received a light slice.

“What matters, is who gets last blood.” Kaito remarked, and then slashed at The Royal Dragon.

Clang, cling , clunk, their swords clashed attack after attack. Sparks were flying off the swords. Neither sword was hitting flesh. Kaito new that he wasn’t going to last long if the fight kept up like this. He decided to use Roiyaru’s strength against him.

Kaito clashed his blade against the Royal Dragon’s, and started backing up (as if he was being over powered). Kaito kept this up until he had his back against a wall. Roiyaru smiled.

“It is over!” Roiyaru said in a victorious tone.

“It is about to be.” Kaito replied. Then he forced Roiyaru’s blade into the wall. Kaito slipped out and sliced down with his blade. Roiyaru was able to escape the attack unscathed, but his blade was cut in half.

“It looks like your blade doesn’t share your strength.” Kaito taunted, than attacked the unarmed warrior. Roiyaru ducked slepped away from every slice. He juked Kaito, then grabbed both halves of his sword.

Kaito kept attacking with skillful slashes, but they were no match for the experienced Royal Dragon. Roiyaru evaded Kaito’s attacks and finally delivered a slash to Kaito’s left leg with the top half of his broken sword, and slashed his right shoulder, simultaneously. This attack made Kaito drop his weapon and spin to the floor, in pain.

“You were a worthy opponent.” Roiyaru praised, and then held the bottom half of his sword to Kaito’s neck. “But it wasn’t enough. Now, immortality is mine!”

Kaito didn’t want to die a loser. He knew he had only one chance to live, but it wasn’t honorable. It was either dishonor or death. Kaito decided to choose dishonor. He quickly reversed Roiyaru’s sword into his shoulder. Roiyaru screamed in pain, and Kaito kicked him as hard as he can in the face.

Kaito scrambled up and grabbed his own sword. He pointed it in front of Roiyaru’s face before he could recover.

Once Roiyaru saw the blade in his face, he realized he had been defeated.

“I see.” The Royal Dragon said. “Hesitating to kill you was my own undoing.”

“Before I kill you.” Kaito started. “You were a great warrior, I want your blessing.”

“You will not only get a blessing, but a curse as well.” Roiyaru took his mask off. “May you find the rest of The Scrolls of Bushido, may your power be great. But, for the dishonorable win you have earned today; whenever you see my mask, your power will become moot.”

Kaito saw as a green smoke ascended from the Royal Dragon, and covered the blue and white mask.

“May your soul find the afterlife.” Kaito said, and then he sliced his sword. After two seconds, Roiyaru’s head fell off his body. Blood gushed from the top of his severed neck, and the body fell backwards. The Royal Dragon has fallen.

Again a green smoke ascended from Roiyaru’s body, but it went to a room. Kaito followed the smoke into the room and saw it descend into a scroll. Kaito picked up the scroll and read the Haiku out loud.

“The fifth scroll of Bushido:

The great strength is yours.

Unmatched, it is in battle.

Use the strength wisely.”

Then a green fire consumed Kaito, and he felt his whole body numb. After the fire has ceased, Kaito went up to the nearest tree, and punched it down. But when he looked at the Royal Dragon’s mask, he would lose it.

Kaito tried to destroy it, but it couldn’t be. It was cursed. Kaito buried it along with it’s owner.

Now he still wanders, looking for the other five, dreading the day someone finds it.

The Azure Assassin vs Entropy

I found it hard to push myself back into the line of detective work, but the decimation of my home town forced me back into the game, that and I needed to keep up on rent. Hours upon hours of searching and collecting clues in order to locate the perpetrator, all that didn’t matter in the long run. The culprit had found out that I was on to him and sent me a letter of challenge, it read

“I know who you are, Azure Assassin, come to the old Alabaster warehouse on Baker Street and we’ll settle it there, don’t expect it to last, this is a one way ticket.

-Entropy”.

Donning the mask and blue gi, I grabbed my saber and headed to the warehouse, ready to accept my fate. What met me there was one of the most unsettling sights I have seen in all my days of work. What resembled a man stood in front of my, his back was arched forward in a most unnatural way. His arms had grey, oozing, external veins that pulsated as if what was flowing through them intended to leave his body rather quickly. He lumbered toward me in a mechanical fashion and beckoned for me to attack him. I moved to strike him down, remembering my training from the Academy and went for his midsection. He caught me off guard with a teleportation technique that I could not have seen coming.

My attack completely missed and he was all of a sudden behind me, I could hear the squishing and sloshing of material being made, what I assumed was coming out of his arms. I turned to be greeted with a ball of grey matter racing toward my face at an unnatural speed. It contained a flashing red light, which I only assumed to be a timer of some sort, and it rang with a beeping noise that anyone would find annoying. I instinctively raised my left hand with a performing shield on my left hand to block the incoming assault. The paste-like material became stuck to my shield and after a one-second delay, hit me with enough force to knock me back, but didn’t do any real damage.

“Shall we begin Azure Assassin?” He said, taunting me, trying to get me rattled, but even after his display I wouldn’t be rattled, he needed to be stopped.

“Ready when you are” I replied. This wasn’t my first time at the rodeo, teleportation wasn’t exactly a new concept, fighting exactly three people that possessed the skill before. I was able to track his movements through the grey mist he left behind, it moved in the direction he was teleporting, a natural flaw.

His next assault came from above, he shot more of that grey matter out of a hole in his wrist after he teleported above me. I narrowly dodged and swung my sabre into the direction of his head. This is when I determined he couldn’t spam-teleport, but he was able to block. He put up some sort of wall made out of a sand-like material, made from the same material that the explosives were since the sand was grey and absorbent in nature.

Proceeding to swipe at his legs with my own, I was able to make solid contact, dealing a small amount of damage to him. He jumped back, proceeding to pump grey ooze out of his wrists. A tsunami of ooze approached my position and managed to crash down on top of me. It held me down from the waist and locked me into a position favorable to him.

“Like I said this was going to be quick Azure Assassin, my explosive ocean technique has sealed your fate. Be sure to give my regards to those from your home town.” He taunted, getting the idea into his head that he had already won.

The layered sound of the beeping from early started to resonate within the warehouse and the sea of grey started to flash red. The explosion proceeded to put a hole the size of a meteorite in the ground. He moved over to marvel at what he thought would be my ashes. I was able to call upon my substitution technique and replace myself with one of the barrels in the corner of the warehouse. His expression changed from giddy to extremely agitated.

“Where are you coward?!?” he shouted. I had been able to secure a spot on the beam just below the roof, the perfect vantage point. I fell from the beam, silently, aiming right for his body. I managed to plunge my sabre directly into his back and proceeded to pin him to the ground.

“Your time is up Entropy, surrender now and I won’t let you bleed to death.” I threatened.

“Fool, you can’t kill me, I’m am a universal necessity, Entropy must exist for there to be order!” He shouted, then his entire body melted into a pool of the goo. I was too stunned to react and his torso emerged from the grey slime, plunging a knife that seemed to be made from his hand directly into my heart. His smile was that of a psychopath, getting into my face and smiling, laughing.

“Goodbye” He said, the pointed end of his limb proceeded to grow red and explode while it was still in my chest. This was the last fight I had ever fought, I was unable to stop this madman from hurting other people, and I died from the explosion that vaporized my internal organs. As I saw my body from above, I could only see failure and destruction, and as I recollect from the afterlife, I can observe that there is not natural law that dictates good shall defeat evil. I now spend the rest of my days in purgatory, looking upon the consequences of my failed actions when it came to defeating this man, and I think to myself,

“What if…..”

Southern Cross #0 - The Words of the WIshing Demon

The Hanged Man Inn, Darling Harbour, Sydney

“I almost had her this time I did mates.” The living humanoid lump of crude oil hissed as it squirmed into an empty chair, the rest of the figures all looking down at their hands, empty faced.

“We know City Slicker.” The man dressed in a costume that was part criminal jumpsuit and part regal robe. “We all have had her on the ropes once and for all yet somehow Southern Cross always survives. Now who will match my bet?”

“I’m out, we all know you cheat at cards Robber Baron.” A tanned man dressed in hunting leathers, his arms and back covered with various sized boomerangs. “As surely that we, the toughest men in town keep getting thwarted by that star spangled dynamo of action out of the streets.”

“Toughest Men on the Streets. Ha, you don’t even touch the streets.” A man clad in grey plate armour and dressed in blue and slumped at the far end of the table hissed. “I’ll meet your bet Baron, and raise you the opportunity of a life time.”

“Who is this guy?!” The last man sitting at the table, if a humanoid rat like figure with amber fur decorated with white dashes could be called a man grunted as he slammed a fist containing four cards onto the table.

“Who I am Tiger Quoll, is the only real person at this table.” The man in blue stated in a cold, almost wind like voice. “Have you ever wondered why you loose against the hero every time you face her?”

“I beat her once.” The man with the boomerangs replied. “Almost killed her too.”

“Because you were written too.” The man in blue hissed. “Everything you’ve done, everything you’ve achieved Mc Kragen. All of it is a story, you are parts written to appose a fictional hero.”

“Seriously who is this bloody galah!?” Tiger Quoll spat as he threw his cards away and got to his feet. “What’s your rep compared to ours?!”

“I have no ‘rep’ as you put it, not here at least, but I am the only one in this entire world who matters.” The man in blue told the others as they stood up and backed away from the table,.

“Alright blue boy let me show you my rep!” Tiger Quoll snapped as he flung a chair at the man in blue only for him to slash the adhoc projectile into pieces with his blade. Not waiting to see if his attack was a success Tiger Quoll closed the gap between him and his foe and aimed a punch at his face, only for his target to teleport away, the punch slamming into the wall so hard that the entire inn shook.

“If you think you can do better then Tiger Quoll,” The man in blue hissed as he reappeared over by the bar, “then step up and try your luck against the Wishing Demon.”

“Wishing Demon huh.” Mc Kragen grunted. “Nice to meet you bloke, know say G’day to the Seven Sisters!” He yelled as he released a set of seven boomerangs, all of them arching towards the man at the bar. Closing his eyes the Demon spun his blade, the sword slicing through the first five projectiles with the other two deflecting off it and returning to their thrower. With a smile the Demon opened his eyes and swung his sword into a defensive position as it met the cutlass of the Robber Baron.

“Your sword is impressive but it is no match to my training.” The Baron told him as he parried the blade and lunged in, the tip stabbing into the bar as the Demon vanished and reappeared behind him. Spinning round the Baron met the blow with his elbow, the hidden armour in his costume blocking the blow well enough to avoid loosing his arm. Backing up the Wishing Demon thudded into something hard and looked up to see Tiger Quoll looking down at him, his hand wrapped around a pipe with a lump of cement at the bottom.

“Alright you little p***k, let’s see you dodge this!!” Tiger Quoll roared as he swung the makeshift club, the tip shattering on contact with the Wishing Demon, cement dust flying everywhere.

”I can’t see a thing, someone open a window!” The Robber Baron ordered as Mc Kragen pulled down a pair of night vision goggles and scanned the area.

”Don’t bother I got him.” Mc Kragen answered as he slung a boomerang across the bar, its micro jet turbine sending it flying towards its target only for him to teleport away. As he did the boomerang pivoted around and locked on to the Wishing Demon again, its cameras correcting its course with every movement he made. With a thud the projectile hit its target just as the Robber Baron found the switch for the air-conditioning, the fans blowing the dust away to reveal the Tiger Quoll out cold on the floor, a co medically large bump on his forehead and a boomerang lying by his side.

“You idiot Mc Kragen, you hit Tiger Quoll instead!!” City Slicker spat as the Wishing Demon reappeared standing by the juke box.

“Do you gentlemen wish to continue?” The Demon asked, a wry smile spread across his face. In response Mc Kragen threw another boomerang as the Robber Baron removed a chain whip from his robe and charged in. With a mocking chuckle the Wishing Demon raised his hand and clicked his fingers, the villain’s weapons vanishing for a few seconds, their owners looking at each other in confusion. “As I mentioned before your careers, your lows and highs have all been scripted before now, this meeting is the first time you’ve been free to choose.”

“Free to choose what?” The Baron asked as he spied City Slicker oozing across the floor towards the Wishing Demon.

“Whether you will continue this written life of loosing night after night to a badly written construct or become kings in the real world!” The Whishing Demon stated, his voice oscillating from cool and calm up to a manic scream, the shockwave sending ripples across the City Slicker’s body until he retreated to where Tiger Quoll was stirring on the floor.

“And what do you get out of this deal?” The Robber Baron asked, his eyes narrowing as he retrieved his cutlass from the bar.

“Chaos, the more chaos I bring to my world the greater my chances at winning are.” The Wishing Demon hissed as blue fire flashed in his eyes. “Bring your friends; it’s time you took your destiny out of the notebook of an obese sixteen year old girl. It’s time to burn the world down, 300 years ahead of schedule.” He finished before vanishing in a puff of blue flame.

Background: This story takes place in the 23rd century. It has been 52 years since World War 3 and the new superpowers have all formed empires dividing all remaining territories. China, France, Japan, Iran, and Brasilia make up the Imperial Axis, currently dominating 90% of Earth's landmass.

As the empires' territories have expanded, so has poverty, xenophobia, violent crime, and government corruption. To combat these threats, Japan's top corporations have pioneered a new course for robotics, modifying the body to superhuman limits. Unfortunately, like all great innovations, the technology has been widely misused. The wealthiest members of society, known as daimyos, have replaced their old husks with newer, artificial bodies to prolong their mortality and increase their power. To secure their expanded assets a new class of warriors , known as the roburai, have established themselves as the newest standard in personal security.

Initially, the roburai were a success but over time their flaws became increasingly apparent. An inability to process empathy beyond cold rationality and a vulnerability to hacking from other droids gradually caused rifts between the warriors and their masters. Many roburai abandoned their daimyos to form the Maeda Shogunate, a dangerous criminal network that has rapidly expanded throughout the Axis. As a result, Dr. Chisoto, a robo-technician, capitalized on the daimyos' panic to fund his latest project. In an experiment to create the perfect guardian, Dr. Chisato reanimated the tissue of a corpse, infusing it with the latest in weapons technology. The subject would have the physical capabilities to fight evenly with roburai whilst maintaining enough humanity to comprehend virtue, making it the worlds first Cyborai. To test this new Cyborai, he unleashed it on the streets of Edo 4, targeting the daimyos' most infamous nemeses.

Cyborai- Thunderbolts and Lightning

Rising Sun Empire; Western American Territory; 2271 a.d.

Edo 4, formerly known as Los Angeles, was the largest city on the western front and therefore, the most ruthless. Each road brought in streams of revenue and industry, causing it to become aptly named Big Tokyo, or BT for short. Big Tokyo was more or less a ribcage for the Maeda Shogunate, guarding the heart that was the Geisha House nightclub. The club was run by a Shogunate underboss named Chikamori "Bad Wolf" Ookami.

The giant roburai was made of over 7' feet of heavy metals. He had wiry silver hair that he slicked back with fine oils and an oni mask welded into his face, leaving the perpetual scowl baked into his expression. He wore large hakama bottoms that left his sandals barely visible. A proportioned orange kimono covered his upper body. The kimono was adorned with gang symbols that complimented the platinum engraved tattoos etched into his chrome skin.

Ookami sat in the champagne room as two pleasure bots (cybernetically enhanced escorts) danced slowly before him; their warm flesh swaying in a tantalizing rhythm. Above him laid his prized killing weapon, Thunder, was propped up on nearly a dozen iron hooks to support its weight. Unlike a traditional roburai katana blade, Thunder was more of a club that answered the age old question: what kind of death instrument looks like the bastard offspring of a steel cricket bat, and a diamond chainsaw?

The women strutted over to each of his shins, kneeling before him and presenting compliments of the house. He claimed the glass of vaporized sake from the servant girl's hand, swirling it in his palm before taking a quick swig to down it in one shot. Bad Wolf then snatched a fat cigar from his other paramour's grip. His teeth glowed beneath his mask, conducting a spark of electricity to lite the cigar. Nicotine puffed through Ookami's nostrils, granting him the brief resemblance to an angry dragon.

"Rise." He ordered the escorts with a grunt. Both girls jolted up, bowing again before standing to attention. Chikamori grinned beneath his mask. "Well go on, earn your pay!"

As the escorts moved in closer to lock their lips together the lights in the room flickered, blacking out for a few seconds. Bad Wolf growled loudly before the darkness subsided. When the lights returned an eerie silence filled the room. The loud J-Rock music which defined the Geisha House was now replaced with muffled shouts and stomps.

"D*f*q is goin' on?" Ookami pondered aloud as curiosity was pestering him more with each fading moment. He slowly rose from the sofa, taking a few steps towards paper corridor before halting by his companions.

The underboss instantly heard the marching steps as two forces met towards the doorway. Ookami ducked beneath the four dancing shadows as a swordsman slashed through three of Chikamori's henchmen. Blood spatter painted the paper walls inside the hallway as the first two gangsters had already died before hitting the ground. The third man was quick enough to raise his weapon but misfired from the fatal injuries given out by the swordsman. Bullets from the submachinegun propelled through the walls, over Ookami's head, rippling through an escort's skull as the swordsman had already dashed around the corner of the floor.

AHHHH!!!-

The other escort screamed. Bad Wolf snapped her neck before she compromised his position.

"Dumb b*tch!" He hissed dumping his finished cigar on her blank face. He hoisted Thunder, over his shoulder and picked up a new cigar, proceeding downstairs.

***

Hundreds of guests were still running in herds through the exits as Ookami entered the main hall. He clung to the corner of a wall to view the menace that disrespected the Shogunate.

Ookami's intruder sat in the center of the karaoke stage, meditating with arms and legs crossed. He had pale skin, and a strong jawline, with a crop of long black hair tied into a ponytail. Each of his limbs were metal, but he wore unusually light armor to be a roburai. Apart from a thin gi and a padded hakama sorted in azure tones and white dragon patterns, there was no clear protective gear on his person. He was also noticeably shorter than most modern warriors, just shy of six feet with no added reach and carried a short blade in his main hand.

After the room had cleared Bad Wolf's eyes scoured the room, looking for a better explanation than the only one that sat before him. How could one pipsqueak take down thirty of his armed guards? Bah--I'm better off, he thought. If the useless fleshbags couldn't take down one shiny ninja then they were never fit to become roburai in the first place. They were a disgrace to Boss Maeda and his entire organization. It fell on Ookami to restore honor to the Shogunate, the old fashioned way, and the Bad Wolf was happy to oblige.

The swordsman rose and tapped into the microphone. "Reveal yourself Chikamori-san!" The monotoned voice ordered.

Bad Wolf stepped into the light. "What for? You wanna sing me a song?" The mobster teased.

"You have stolen billions of yen from Daimyo Long. I am here to collect."

"Long?" The roburai chuckled. "That old chink put you up to this?"

"Do not disrespect your Lord, oathbreaker!" The cyborai exclaimed.

"Roburai don't serve lords anymore, unless you count the slave models, such as yourself. We are superior to them! You'd see that if you weren't defective."

"Insults will not erase your debt, but my master has offered another solution to prevent open conflict."

"Is that so?" Ookami asked, sarcastically furrowing a brow.

The intruder reached into his waistband, tossing over a wakizashi to Chikamori's feet. "Inject the blade into your life support systems."

"Hahahahahahaha! You're a riot pal."

"I was being serious." The swordsman hissed.

Bad Wolf pick up the bladed and pointed it on his abdomen. He rapidly drew his hands back before hurling the weapon at the intruder's face. The intruder narrowly dodged it as the blade chipped a piece of his mask, leaving a small cut on his skin.

"You're a fleshbag?"

"I am Raiko mk 7." The cyborai affirmed. The cut quick sealed, auto healing itself.

The Maeda underboss flicked his second cigar away. "No, you're dead!"

***

The giant roburai lunged at the stage, nearly splitting it in half as Thunder roared to life. Raiko evaded the massive strike but the aftershock sank the stage on a slope, quickly dragging his body towards his opponend. To create distance the cyborai backflipped but was caught off guard when a large hand clutched his leg in midair. Bad Wolf was surprisingly agile for his size, flinging the white dragon across the room past the dance floor and into the bar.

Mk 7's body crashed like a ragdoll, snapping a few ribs on impact which caused him to wince in pain. Bad Wolf charged forward to exploit his foe's injury tossing a floating table at his prey and revving up the diamond sawchains of his weapon. The intruder composed himself quickly by slashing through the table with his sword, and throwing several explosive shuriken with his free hand. The explosives scathed Chikamori, but only slowed his blitz by a few seconds, giving Raiko the time to prepare himself. The two forces met at the center of the main hall. The cyborau dodged again beneath a fast swing but spun around, this time meeting his opponent head on.

Matching his oponent's moves Ookami spun to face the cyborai as they both exchanged parries. Thunder clashed against the sword as the larger warrior pushed his weight down on the blades, forcing Raiko into a crouched postion. Their arms tremored as they fought for control, Bad Wolf clearly being strong enough to dominate, but not strong enough to break the swordsman's resolve. Within seconds Thunder's edge had begun to wear a nick into the shorter weapon, being the only line of defense between the massive club and its target's skull.

"Come on! Is this the best you can do?" The Maeda enforcer teased.

Raiko's eyes twitched and his nostrils flared in anger. His sword vanished for a moment and he rolled back from the crouch reappearing with his blade to graze Chikamori's arm. The roburai countered with a strike from Thunder's blunt end, smacking him back over the bar, this time into the alcohol cases.

He grinned at the gash in his arm. It had been years since Bad Wolf had seen his own blood, and it was relieving to fight someone who could make him bleed. "That's a neat trick you got with the sword, Ghost Metal, right?" The thug inquired.

Raiko remained silent. He was too busy plucking the glass out of his skin to respond. The liquid had also infiltrated his ears and eyes, fluxing his perception filters. Ookami's voice was alternating pitches through Raiko's ears as the Maeda underboss kept antagonizing.

"I've got a trick too...wanna see?" Suddenly Bad Wolf's teeth began to light up as a small orb of electricity appeared before his mouth. He howled loudly, triggering the orb to transform into an arc of lightning directed at the smashed liquor case.

Raiko sprinted as fast as he could, jumping over the rail of the exploding bar as his hakama caught flame. Ookami howled again narrowly missing the evasive target as he tossed smoke bombs to throw of the blast. Chikamori's eyes glowed orange as his optic scanner activated thermal vision. "I seeeee you!" He jested.

"You're too late." The cyborai declared, as his perception filters had finished rebooting itself. To delay the next lightning bolt he hurled his sword at the roburai's chest. Bad Wolf lifted Thunder with his good arm and flung up to swipe the sword away but Raiko had activated the Ghost Metal. With precision the sword phased through the steel club and solidified, pinning Chikamori's forearm to his chest.

The roburai howled in pain this time hitting mk 7 with a lightning bolt, kicking the falling combatant in the midsection, choke slamming him into the ground, then smashing him back into the karaoke stage. Despite his advanced healing features Raiko could not take much more punishment. He crawled to the back of the stage before collapsing.

Ookami smiled. He dropped Thunder to the ground as he carefully dislodged the sword from his chest and arm. Clutching it in his hands he swung it a few times through the air and admired it's precision. He strided towards his fallen foe to end the duel properly.

"It was illogical for you to come here, but I'm glad you did. It's nostalgic to feel tested once again. One of the downsides of acquiring true power is that it is seldom to actually use it. You've given me a gift today and you deserve a reward, for that. You'll die serving your master, and I live on and personally dedicate myself to reunite all of you loved ones in the long days that will follow your death." He laughed. "Yes, I think I'll thoroughly enjoy that." Ookami's pace quickened as noticed Raiko's body occasionally twitch from the shock. He crouched down by the wounded cyborai and spoke softly to his prey.

"Do you know why you've lost? It wasn't because you had poorer tech, that you where too dumb, too weak, or too slow, I mean, all of those things contributed but they weren't the root of your problem. You lost because you're only human, and thus, an inferior creature. I fight with no restrictions because I obliterated my weakness long ago. I've adapted to become what this world needs me to be hard, tough, strong, but mostly, just better than the older models." He gripped the sword and slowly raised it over mk 7's head. "Well...don't feel so bad, of all the fleshbags that have tried to kill me, you came the closest."

"SHUT UP!" Raiko roared. Bad Wolf plunged the blade down as it faded into the floor. Raiko spun up with the wakizashi he had hidden beneath his body, thrusting the blade upward, through the bottom of Chikmori's jaw into the base of his skull. Ookami's eye's rolled up as the sparks between his fangs discharged.

He reclaimed his sword from the base of the stage and pried the oni mask off of Bad Wolf's metallic face. After pocking the mask within his hakama, Raiko tapped his earlobe, activating a radio call. "Chisato-sama, I've resolved with the problem. I'll return the mask to the daimyo and meet you back at the lab for further orders."

"Good work, my boy! I'll contact Long now."

***

Chisato turned off the radio signal. The old man coughed into the sleeve of his lab coat, before striking a name off the list in his monitor. "That's one down...and 46 more to go." The Doctor grinned, regardless of the future outcomes this victory had just made him a very wealthy man.

THE END.

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My name is Kevin and I sound like Calculon doing an impression of Howard Cosell.

Our action tonight comes to us from an alternate dimension and sponsored by Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster, the cleanest teeth or your money back. Betting and odds will be available on our website in just a few moments.

But we now go live to the action, which is taking place in a city similar to Westbury Massachusetts if it were built on the moon by LSD infused architects. In the blue corner, plummeting from a height of fifteen thousand feet and approaching terminal velocity is Lady Gunsword, the hero of this piece…correction I’ve just been informed that it is indeed a woman under the mask, making the name much more appropriate.

Standing at only five feet five inches the stunning sapphire cyber samurai was the former sidekick of The Duke, this world’s elite gunfighter. Seemingly parting ways some six years ago this lethal lady has been making quite a name for herself. Skilled in several forms of martial arts, coupled with a cybernetic array that would make a certain alcohol guzzling playboy from a marvellous universe pretty jealous, Lady Gunsword is quite the package. Due to her colouring we shall be assigning her the blue corner.

In the red corner, though imbibed with purple energy; is eldritch infused, telekinetic demon lord known as Belloc! Formerly a librarian who one day checked out the wrong book and now is the rotted eldritch infused telekinetic demon lord bent on wreaking havoc. On a scale of one to ten, he’d be on it.

We take up the action, apologies to our viewers in universe one as we have no way of translating their dialog into smell to coincide with our live broadcast.

Lady Gunsword lands on the turquoise concrete with all the grace of a cat several feet away from the demon lord who hovers inches off the ground in a purple nimbus. Words are exchanged but they are simply the canapés to the main course of battle! As expected Belloc roars in delight and pulses off a blast wave of energy. Lady Gunsword activates pitons in her boots and stands her ground like a lighthouse against the angry sea. Nothing given, nothing asked.

Gunsword leaps forward with an impressive array of flips, barani’s and somersaults as she closes the gap and attempts to behead him, which may or may not work as I believe only vampires are destroyed this way. Regardless Belloc has telekinetically stunted the attack mere inches from his skin; you can see the veins popping in his anorexic neck. Lady Gunsword’s blade starts to glow and quake. I can see Belloc questioning what is hap…OH MY LORD!

Lady Gunsword’s sword has fired of a blast like a gun! At point blank range into Belloc’s face! Let’s see that on super slo-mo. The sword glows and like a gun fires a massive ballistic hit into Belloc’s face, the face shuddering mad even more painful by the slow motion!

I haven’t seen anything like this since the Punisher War Journal of 1989 where he shot a man in the nuts with a ballistic knife! Amazing!

Is Belloc getting up? He’s lying on the…Lady Gunsword is on him like white on rice and drives her sword home through his sternum to the hilt. THAT”S GOTTA HURT!

Seems this one is over folks. The lady in blue easily defeating her opponent and possibly in record time.

That’s all we have time for folks, stay tuned for a few words from our sponsors. I’ve been Kevin doing Calculon doing Howard Cosell…good night

Translated from the Japanese...

“You have killed for the last time, Blue Tiger!” cried Lightning Corridor as he cradle his now dead fiancée, Umbrella Of The Sun, in his pulsing bio-electric arms. The sword wielding villain threw his head back and laughed maniacally.

“No, Lightning Corridor, I still have you to kill today,” he swung his sword back and forth, carving the air. “So get up and face me!”

The man called Lightning Corridor glowed bright yellow, with the fury of a million turbines. The area hummed with static, the smell of ozone was offensive to the nostrils as he powered up with righteous anger. “DIE!”

Lightning Corridor fired a blast that tore a hole in the fabric of the universe with it’s tenacity! Amp upon amp, volt upon volt, of an incalculable amount hurtled towards Blue Tiger. The killer smiled, planted his metallic feet and caught the bolt on his sword.

“My sword was forged in the heart of a stormcano,” shouted Blue Tiger of the furious noise. “This…feeble, pathetic attack is offensive to me and to the woman you seek to avenge. Have it back!”

Blue Tiger tossed the energy back at Lightning Corridor who unready for such an attack, causing him to explode like a rapidly inflated balloon. There was very little left of him asides from a red mist hovering in the air. Blue Tiger inhaled and then exhaled what little was left of Lightning Corridor as if he was puffing a cigar.

“I told you I still had you to kill, my brother.” Blue Tiger licked his lips, turned and looked at the wave of the other amassed heroes of Super Geo-Power Attack Team who were waiting like a frightened herd of sheep. He shook his head taking off his mask. “I said that is all I was going to kill today, and as a man of my word, I will keep that promise. But come at me…mark my words, tomorrow there will be furious vengeance upon those who step to me.”

The Super Geo-Power Attack Team, all 102 of them paused. He was but one man armed with a sword. They had fought the Zilla-Gorilla of Honshu who stood 700ft tall and shot molten snot; they had defeated the Pumpkin Men from the Perseus Quadrant…but they were unsure what to do when one of their founders who had turned to a life of crime and wickedness. One by one the Super Geo-Power Attack Team dispersed; quietly like monks through a temple for prayers until there was only one left: Atomic Powered Goat Girl.

“Go home Nadia,” Blue Tiger said as he wiped his sword on his azure robe.

“No…I am going to wait until the clock strikes 12.01 and then I am going to kill you Hattori,” she cried softly as tears ran down her face.

Blue Tiger shrugged as he crossed his legs and closed his eyes. “Suit yourself.”

Slowly, steadily, the clocked ticked as Atomic Powered Goat Girl waited and watched.

Nine hours to go…

The stars had once shone through the night sky, illuminating the ground and showing a path for all of Earth's creatures to use. But the stars shone no longer. The light they had once created had simply been replaced with darkness. A darkness unlike any that the man known as Yukko Simatzu had ever known. It was the type of darkness that permeated from the darkest recesses of man's minds.

It was the stuff of nightmares.

Yukko was an oddity in the world he had created. He had been born before the dark had tightened its grip around the Earth. He'd taken part in the war against the creatures that had been created from the night... and he'd been there when the entirety of the Human race had perished that long dreadful day almost 50 years ago. Now, he was all that remained.

"It's time to go..." He whispered to himself as he gripped the large sword attached to his belt. He'd spent the last 4 days in the darkness of the forest trying to stay out of sight. Not hiding of course, it was impossible to hide from something that was omniscient... however simply staying out of the darkness' plans. Yukko's costume was the only light a person would be able to find across the entire planet... and that was the way he liked it. As he released himself from the tree he had made his home he felt a sensation that he hadn't felt for years... he wasn't alone. The moment he hit the grassy ground he twisted his body and pulled his sword from its sheathe. "Who's there?!" He yelled, his voice croaking from the lack of use his vocal cords had been through recently. He released a burst of white light from his right hand that unleashed its brightness into the surrounding dark... and as the light shot forward a shadow appeared directly between a pair of pine trees... only this shadow did not sleep upon the ground as others did... this one stood upon the ground like a normal person.

Slowly the darkness molded around the shadow before taking the appearance of a person... a woman. Someone that Yukko had known very well in his youth.

"Hello Yukko." The girl said, she clung to the pine tree on her right as though it was the safety rail keeping her from death. "I've missed you."

Yukko stared into the darkness with anger. His hand tightened around the hilt of his blade as the woman stepped forward. "Do not think you can trick me Spectre." He hissed. "Your kind has tried this before." He smiled slightly as he placed the tip of his sword against the creature's throat. "It didn't work then, either." The woman stared at him with her dead eyes... and slowly she began to spin whatever lies came into her mind.

"But I'm not a trick, dearest..." She said in the most seductive tone she could muster. "I'm real. The most real person y-" Her sentence was interrupted by the blade severing her neck from its body. Pitch black blood splattered across the grass and the woman's body dissolved into nothing, Yukko stepped over the goo that was hissing upon the floor and sheathed his sword.

"You're not real..." He muttered as he made his way through the forest. He willed the light he'd created to fizzle out. "Nothing is."

The armored Samurai leapt into the air and swung his blade down at the helpless woman that knelt before him. He expected to hear the sound of sharp steel cutting into soft flesh and bone. Instead he heard the clang of metal on metal. He glanced to his right and finally noticed the dark clad warrior standing there so silently.

The fact that he hadn't heard him enter the warlord's home was impressive. He was able to suppress his murderous intent to a worrying degree. The Samurai took a step back, using the space to give himself a chance to reassess the situation.

The two warriors circled around each other. The dark clad ninja making no discernible sound on the wooden floor. The Samurai lunged at him, trying to catch him off guard and keep him off balance. His attempt at guile failed as the ninja parried his strike and then immediately fell into the shadows, melding into the darkness completely.

The Samurai brought his sword closer to his body now, trying to defend himself. He stood there in the silence, trying to discern the ninja's location, nervously awaiting the attack he knew was coming. His heart was pounding and his palms grew sweaty. The sounds of the warlord's wife sobbing was the only thing to be heard in the entire house, that and the sound of the samurai's own breathing.

Then the sound of metal whipping through the air was heard, and the samurai spun around swinging his sword, knocking down the kunai that had been sent towards him. However it was a feint and the ninja dashed towards him from behind and cut into his back, and slid back into the darkness.

The Samurai grunted in pain. His blood seeped through his armor as he turned around and slashed at his invisible foe, entirely too late. He slowly started spinning around in circles, trying to anticipate the next attack. The next one came much quicker this time, but the samurai was ready. The attack came from his left, low. The Samurai blocked the hit and lashed out with his fist, catching the ninja off guard, not expecting that from a supposedly "honorable" Samurai. The Bushido warrior swung the knife down in a vicious arc nearly cutting through the ninja's arm. As it was, he still had limited use of his arm.

The ninja again disappeared into the shadows but this time he left a trail of blood to follow. The Samurai jumped on the opportunity for the victory and gave chase. The ninja however, was expecting this tactic. He sheathed his sword and withdrew his many shuriken and threw them at the attacking samurai, while backpedaling away from him. The samurai pressed on, deflecting the throwing stars and backed the lethal shadow warrior against the wall. He made one final lunge and finally, finally heard the sound he had been waiting for. The sound of a sword cutting deeply, mortally, in a human body.

The samurai coughed and spit out blood. His arm was still raised, his sword gripped tightly in his fist. The armor had proven useless against the famous steel of the Katana blade. The ninja pushed the Samurai back and off of his sword. The Samurai collapsed and fell on his knees. His body was starting to lose its warmth, it was all leaving him through his life's blood. "So this is what death feels like." The Samurai thought to himself. His body went numb and he coughed up another wad of blood.

The ninja pulled off of his mask and put away his short sword. "Mother. Are you unharmed?" He asked the woman who was still crying.

"He....he killed them all." The woman, his mother, whispered. "All of them." The ninja knelt and hugged his mother tightly.

"He has joined them in the afterlife now mother." He reassured her. "Now come, more are on the way."

Pain. It was the only thing he could think about. It was familiar, yet alien at the time. He could focus only on pain, yet felt none. The blood fell to the ground, he saw the sword in his abdomen, yet he felt nothing. His hands were bloodied, and the eye he could still see out of was still. He stared, and time seemed to pass in slow motion. He realized what was happening, but in a childlike sort of way. As if he knew that everything was going to be okay in the end. That life would go on. But he didn't know that. Would he die here, before this swordsman? Would his injuries claim him after a long battle? Could he survive this? His thoughts came to a sudden stop when he remembered. He remembered what pain felt like.

He felt a sudden twinge of pain in his abdomen, which suddenly spread through his body and radiated out of every place that blood leaked from. He looked to the sword in his abdomen, and looked to the man holding it. He pulled back his fist and shot it towards the man's chin with all the force he could.

His name is Tyler Dorrance, and he's going to die.

"My dad, yeah, he's pretty proud of me. Glad I wanted to be a part of the family business. Blowing sh*t up. Controlled demolitions. Not that commercial sh*t, though, like, we get paid to blow up people, places, you name it. As long as it gets the job done and it's untraceable. We homebrew our own, out of the weirdest sh*t. But anyway, the reason I'm here is, uh, this guy. Think his name was Hector McReary or somethin' like that. Weird guy, real shady. He had money though, and that's what we needed. He wanted us to blow this warehouse. Abandoned. Again, real shady. We did, but he gave us a case full of absolute sh*t. Like, he pulled some switcheroo on us or somethin'. Turns out that warehouse was owned by a mob boss, like yakuza or triad or somethin'. Those crates in there were just loaded with coke. He had his men take me, the oldest son, into custody to spite my family before killing them. He had me tossed in this pit and, well, here I am."

All of the men in the room were bloodied, wearing tattered pants and nothing else. The man sitting across from Tyler nodded. "So you blow sh*t up? Might come in handy 'round here." The man stepped up at the sound of a buzzer. The other people in the room looked to him. "You're up, Kerr." Kerr stepped into a round room, with a dirt floor and fencing for walls. The top was open, and spectators leaned in to the action.

"Sick bastards." A man with a shaved head stood up. "Makin' us fight." He looked around, stopping at Tyler. "At least we've got a chance to freedom. Champ walks away free." He walked in after Kerr, and the gate closed behind him. The men in the room with Tyler watched through the gate.

The man who was in the room punched Kerr in the back of the head, which Kerr responded to with an elbow to the jaw. Kerr then slammed his shoulder into the man's solar plexus and pinned him against the wall. The man brought down an elbow on the exposed back of Kerr's head, causing him to fall to the man's feet. The man attempted to kick Kerr, but Kerr grabbed the man's shin with one hand and pressed against his knee with the other. The man fell to the ground and tried to pry off Kerr's hands. Tyler watched. The snap made him sick to his stomach. The gate opened up, and Kerr walked back in. The man was pressed against the chain wall and a command was given in a foreign language. Electricity surged through the metal and the man was killed.

"That's how it works." Kerr grumbled to Tyler. "Hey new guy, hope you don't live to lose a fight." The night passed, but Tyler got no sleep. He was going to die here.

5 years had passed. Tyler forgot what the outside world was like. He just spend his time in this dank bunk room or the arena. Fighting had become boring. He was never scared or excited for a fight, never happy when he won. He was indifferent about we the he lived or died. Hell could be no worse than this. He heard the buzzer.

He stepped into the arena. He looked around for his opponent, and saw Kerr. There were no friends here, but Kerr was the only person here who actually talked. Everyone else was reduced to grunts it seemed. Too bad. Tyler waited for Kerr to approach him. When Kerr threw a punch, Tyler took hold of his arm and punched Kerr as hard in the jaw as he could. On top of the downed Kerr, he swung his fist into Kerr's face until it, as well as Tyler's right hand, resembled spoiled hamburger.

Tyler got up, emotionless, and walked back to his bunk. The men on the other side didn't bother zapping Kerr. The usually didn't have to after a fight against Tyler. He was just good at what he did.

2 more years passed. Nothing eventful happened, until out of the buzzing that he heard from the mass of talking people he heard the word championship. He suddenly wasn't lifeless. He felt emotion. He rushed to the person who had said it, and found that if he could kill the man behind all of this, he could walk free. The man however, was armed with a sword, and an armor suit.

Tyler had no reason not to accept, and put up quite the fight. The swordsman's jaw was practically hanging off.

Tyler laid on the ground, in a rapidly growing pool of blood. The swordsman approached him. He attempted to speak, but instead spat blood. Tyler would've laughed if he had the strength to. He looked at the time displayed on the built-in digital watch on the swordsman's suit. He had by this point learned how to read it. "Al-almost ti-ime..." He said, smiling. The swordsman looked confused.

"K-kaboosh" Tyler clasped his hands together and spread his fingers and hands apart. A distant crashing noise could be heard. Then, soon, another. And another. They began to come from all directions, and underneath them. The floor collapsed, and the arena was consumed in a fireball.

"Tyler, Tyler, holy sh*t calm down!" Kerr ran towards his friend, who was beating a man senseless. "What's wrong with you!? He's not a damn cyber-ninja, are you crazy? Have you ever heard of cosplaying? Christ dude, you've got problems!"

"Tweaked out crazy sonofab*tch." Kerr turned away, shaking his head. Tyler charged at Kerr, and slammed his shoulder into Kerr's back. He smashed Kerr's head on the cement in the parking lot before he heard a distinctive clicking noise behind him.

"You stay away from me you evil psychopa-" The weak and bloodied man shot Tyler in the head before falling down into the feral position and crying. Police sirens could be heard in the distance. Kerr was loaded into an ambulance in a body bag.

The man in the parking lot walked home, and turned on the TV. He made himself some food as the news played stories on a recent hospital bombing and a bust on an underground fighting ring.

He took his food into his bedroom and just stared at his armor suit and sword while he ate.

The Iron Circle- an industrial roundabout near one of Indigo City’s crash sites from The Great Impact:

“Tell me again why we’re here, Special Agent Heironymous,” said Crystal Salt.

Looking at the work going on in the foundry, Heironymous answered, “We’re not here, Special Agent Salt.”

Looking up at her new partner, Crystal raised an eyebrow and asked, “We were sent here by our commanding officers, weren’t we?”

Still looking at the foundry, Heironymous cocked his head to one side and replied, “Of course...but that doesn’t mean that we’re here.” He turned his head slightly, looked at Crystal from the corner of his eye, and winked.

“Ha. I see. So a dragon smelting iron, and trolls working the metal have what to do with the U.S. Treasury, or protecting the President?”

Heironymous looked down at her fully this time. The question not being entirely unexpected, he replied dryly, “I’m sorry?”

“Trolls and a dragon,” she said, pointing at the foundry. “This must have something to do with POTUS or the Treasury. Otherwise, why send in the Secret Service?”

The bald agent looked back out toward the dragon, and sighed like he was tired. “Damn whoever came up with ‘need to know.’ Is thatall you think we do, Agent Salt?”

“It’s all I was trained for,” she said. “It’s all that’s on the agency’s website,” she added.

Heironymous sounded only slightly annoyed when he said, “Great. A greenhorn.”

“Excuse me?” Salt challenged, plainly offended.

“What does it say?” he asked, watching the copper-scaled dragon breathe fire into the great smelting pot of metal ore.

“What?”

“The website,” he said, turning his attention to the young agent. “What does it say?”

Salt ticked off the items on her fingers as she listed, “We safeguard the integrity of the economy, protect national leaders, visiting dignitaries, certain sites and events.”

“It says all that, does it?” asked Heironymous, his handlebar mustache twitching as he talked.

“Yeah,” said Crystal.

“I see,” he said, pursing his lips. “And who has access to this website?”

“Everyone,” she answered, plainly bothered by the obviousness of the question. “It’s the World Wide Web.”

“Uh-huh.” Leaning towards her slightly, he asked, “And what part of that says Secret Service to you?”

Crystal considered for a moment, and said, “So we handle other things that aren’t made known to the public.” Heironymous nodded. “So back to my original question: why are we here, watchdogging trolls and a dragon, for weeks on end?” The great smelting pot tipped into the molds at that point, and the trolls began working the molten metal.

Heironymous looked at her curiously. “That’s it? No shock and disbelief? No umbrage over disinformation? No surprise that those are real trolls and a real dragon down there?”

“Special Agent Heironymous, my father was lost in some sort of portal accident, my sister is part of an elite military unit that I gatherencounters weird and unexplained on a regular basis, and during my time in the Navy, I’ve seen things at sea that defy conventional explanation,” she lectured, again ticking her list off on her fingers. “Trolls and a dragon are just more of the same,” she added.

They looked at each other for a long few moments. Heironymous broke the silence with, “Hmph. Not a greenhorn after all then.” Crystal nodded her appreciation before he added, “Just ignorant.”

“Hey--!” she started, before he put a hand up to stop her.

“We- that is the Secret Service- are here,” offered Heironymous, “because our government has a vested interest in Indigo City recovering from the trials brought on by The Great Impact. The foundry hasn’t returned to fully operational status yet, so their smelting equipment isn’t working. So we asked a dragon--”

“--That we just happen to know--” interjected Crystal.

“--to smelt the metals needed to aid in rebuilding, in exchange for a favor that’s beyond your paygrade.”

“But not yours,” she stated.

“We asked the trolls to work the metal, because there are no better metalworkers on Earth--”

“--Or beneath it,” she pointed out.

“--and ordinary citizens can’t be allowed to know that such creatures of lore still exist.”

“Because…” she shrugged.

“Will you please quit doing that?” Heironymous said gruffly. Crystal gestured with both hands for him to continue, then clasped her hands in front of her. “We, specifically, are here, because dragons are my purview. If this goes sideways, we are to protect the dragon, and see that he gets out of here safely.”

“And if it’s the dragon that sends us sideways?” she asked. There was an audible hiss as the metal castings were cooled in the foundry.

Heironymous looked at her quizzically, almost offended. “Dragons are honorable, above all else. Once they agree to do something, they will not waver from it.”

“And if the dragon has an ulterior motive for being here?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

Gritting his teeth slightly, Heironymous said, “Then it was probably covered in the deal he made for his services. Or he decided that doing this service wouldn’t conflict with his own agenda.”

Salt gave a knowing look as she turned back toward the foundry. She clasped her hands behind her, rocked back-and-forth on her heels a couple of times, and said, “Uhh-huh.” The trolls removed the iron girders from the molds, and began resetting the equipment to repeat the process.

Heironymous scowled and said, “Do you have something to say, Agent Salt?”

Crystal looked at him like she had been waiting for this moment all day, and said, “What’s your motive for being here, Agent Heironymous?” He just looked at her. “What deal did you make for your services?” Still nothing. “What favor are you getting in return?”

“That’s definitely above your paygrade,” Heironymous said flatly. Crystal did not look amused. “You read my file.”

“I read your file,” she confirmed with a nod. “You’re a dragon too.”

“And? It’s in my file, because it’s not a secret.”

“Nooo,” she said, still working her way up to her point, “but some people think you’re making that up. There’s plenty of people in the world who are super strong, invulnerable, and breathe fire. Still others don’t believe you because they don’t believe in creatures of lore.”

“I don’t give a damn what people believe,” Heironymous said calmly, “but as you can see, we do exist. Which is why,” he said pointedly, “we have hidden this creature of lore in a foundry, and only have other creatures of lore working with him. Less to explain.”

“Then why am I here?” asked Salt. “I’m just human.”

“If you keep it up? To be a snack,” groused Heironymous.

“Ha!” Crystal put one hand to her chest in mock offense, and said, “Why, Agent Heironymous! Are you saying you want to eat me?” Heironymous looked uncomfortable with the implication she gave his words, and she laughed heartily.

Heironymous’ mustache twitched a few times as he regarded the woman before him. Finally, he said, “Young lady, you have quite a mouth on you.”

Crystal smiled wryly and said, “You have no idea. I was a sailor y--”

BOOM!

An explosion rocked the foundry, and a wall fell away at the entrance. It was followed by the screams of several trolls as they turned to stone, having been caught in the sunlight flooding in through the hole. The other trolls scattered to dark corners of the foundry. The dragon swiveled its head toward the hole and roared.

What appeared to be a blue-clad samurai in high tech armor stepped through the damaged wall, sword in hand. Heironymous was already headed towards the hole, followed by Crystal. Gun drawn and aimed at the intruder, Salt fell in step next to her partner, and asked, “Carrier?”

Still walking, Heironymous snarled, “He’s not a carrier.”

“How do you know?” asked Salt. “Friend of yours?”

A faint hint of smoke came from Heironymous’ nostrils as he answered, “No, but it is someone I know.” Crystal looked at him questioningly, but he only said, “Follow protocol. Protect the dragon.”

“Invulnerable and breathes flame?” she said sarcastically.

“Not to everything! Protect the dragon!” he barked. “At all costs!”

Crystal nodded, but he was already moving faster toward the samurai, who was moving toward the dragon. “Halt! Secret Service!” she yelled, and punctuated it with a shot at the feet of the intruder.

As the bullet ricocheted off the floor, the samurai turned his attention toward Crystal, and threw three shuriken at once, moving incredibly fast. She shot one out of the air, one knicked the top of her left ear, and the other lodged in the armor plating of her vest, biting into her chest. She doubled over from the hit, and tried to pull the shuriken from the wound.

The samurai was still running towards Salt when he let another three shuriken fly towards Heironymous. The tip of one bent a little against his chest, but snagged in his coat. The agent smacked one out of the air, caught the other between two fingers, and wasted no time hurling it back at the samurai.

The samurai reached Crystal’s position, knocked her out with an upkick to the face, then deflected the shuriken with his sword. Turning to face his attacker, he froze. “You!...The Escort!...Heironymous!”

Heironymous was walking towards him, and said, “And you…you can hide your face behind that mask, but you can’t hide your smell, boy. Since when do ninjas disguise themselves as samurai?”

“Since I’m sick of ninjas!” he spat. “They pride themselves on adapting to any situation, but they never adapt to the times. I decided I needed an edge, if I was to have vengeance for my family. So I found one,” he said, sweeping a hand from head-to-toe to indicate he meant the armor.

“We’ll see about that!” Heironymous growled as he closed the distance between them. He swung a fist towards the ninja-samurai, but was blocked by an armored arm. The agent immediately swept a leg around, kicking his opponent’s feet out from under him, but the ninja caught himself and did a couple of back handsprings before landing upright.

“You will have to do better than that!” declared the ninja, springing forward and swinging the sword.

Heironymous threw up an arm to block the sword, only to have it cut deeply into his forearm, and slice across his chest. “Yaarrggh!” he cried out, not expecting to be wounded by a manmade weapon. He looked at his arm and chest in shock for a moment.

The ninja looked equally as shocked that it had worked. He gave a breathy laugh as he realized new value in his weapon. Looking at the now angry agent, he said, “The old fool was telling the truth!” He only had a couple of seconds to marvel further before Heironymous attacked again.

They traded punches, kicks, and chops in rapid succession, and Heironymous took more cuts from the sword. The agent started to realize that the armor did give the ninja an edge; it increased his speed, so his reflexes and reaction time were faster. It also made him stronger- he was feeling some of the ninja’s punches. He needed to end this soon, or the kid might get lucky with the sword. Finally, the right combination of feint and punch allowed Heironymous to get the ninja in a hold from behind- left hand under the left arm and around the back of his neck, and the right hand locked onto his wrist, holding him from swinging the sword. For a few seconds, all that could be heard was the sound of both of them breathing hard. Heironymous was ticked, but the ninja was still smiling.

The ninja finally broke the silence to say, “It’s true! It can kill a dragon!” The thought made him laugh breathlessly.

Heironymous tightened his grip a little and said, “Your sword isn’t Japanese, so it’s not the Kusanagi. I’m guessing it didn’t come with the armor. Where’d you get it?”

The ninja laughed again, his breath finally settling. “What does it matter? I will use it to avenge my family!”

Heironymous squeezed tighter, and leaning to the ninja’s ear, said through gritted teeth, “Son, on this entire planet, there are only a handful of weapons that can hurt a dragon, and it’s best that most of them stay where they are.” Giving a stiff shake of the ninja’s sword arm, he demanded, “Where did you get this?”

The ninja fumed, but relented. “In my search for something that could aid me in avenging my family, I met a man in Libya who claimed to know of a sword that could kill a dragon.”

Heironymous scowled at the mention of Libya. He said nothing.

The ninja continued, “This man had a very interesting take on historical and mythical accounts, but his story eventually pointed me to a village in Essex, called Wormingford--”

“--No.” said Heironymous, a hint of fear actually in his voice.

“There, I found the home of a real collector of dragon and dragon-fighting memorabilia. Really amazing place. Best of all was this sword, though,” said the ninja, admiring the blade.

“You fool,” Heironymous said with real dread.

“I took my name from this sword--”

“You stupid boy,” said Heironymous, the strength leaving him.

The ninja took that moment to break free from Heironymous’ grip, and spun to face him, sword extended in front of him. “Now, the dragon who killed my family will know--”

“You didn’t--” the agent said angrily.

“--the wrath of Ascalon!” shouted the ninja.

“No! Noo! Nooo!” shouted Heironymous. “You stupid fool! Tell me you didn’t steal the sword of Saint George!” He roared angrily, and spewed fire at the ninja, driving Ascalon backwards towards the foundry.

When his breath was expended, Ascalon lifted his sword to strike, but a thunderous crash just behind him caused him to spin and find himself staring in the face of the copper-scaled dragon. The dragon roared in his face, and the ninja swung his sword.

Heironymous bellowed, “NO!” which caused the dragon to rear its head back in surprise; just enough for only the tip of the sword to catch its neck. The dragon instinctively drew back several paces, but Ascalon moved forward with him. Drawing the sword back for another swing, he suddenly found his wrist in the vice-like grip of Heironymous again, and he was jerked backwards before he could react.

Heironymous stepped between them as the dragon drew its head back to strike, and shouted, “No!”

The dragon stopped, but Ascalon took the opportunity to strike while Heironymous was distracted. Thrusting forward, he stabbed the agent through his left shoulder. Roaring in pain, Heironymous wrenched backwards, pulling the sword out of Ascalon’s hand, throwing the ninja off balance. With the sword still through his shoulder, and with a savage growl, he broke the ninja’s arm and elbowed him in the face, shattering the mask and knocking him flat on his back. With great pain, he pulled the sword from his body, as Ascalon looked at him in disbelief.

“You should be dead! It should have killed you! Why aren’t you dead?” he shouted hysterically.

“Because I’m bald, not Balder, and this isn’t mistletoe!” Heironymous shouted back, shaking the sword at him. Ascalon looked at him blankly. Heironymous realized the ninja didn’t understand, and his shoulders slumped a little. Tiredly he said, “Ascalon can pierce a dragon, son, but you still have to hit something vital for it to kill.” The ninja suddenly looked defeated. Heironymous scowled. “You don’t even know what you’ve done, do you?”

“I have failed once again to avenge my family,” Ascalon said quietly.

“This goes much deeper than your personal vengeance,” said Heironymous. “You damned near started a war. This sword is bound by treaty, between Saint George and the Dragons, to never be used to kill a dragon again. Had you killed the Prince of Dragons with thissword, you’d have unleashed hell in retribution against humanity. As it is, if the Saint thinks we stole the sword from him, there may yet be war anyway. He will want this BARRGHHHH!”

Heironymous went down from an armored foot to his groin, and then was kicked in the face, throwing him on his back. Ascalon jumped to his feet, grabbed the sword with his good hand, and ran for an exit, with his bad arm folded close to his body. As Heironymous concentrated on his pain, he heard, “Humanity can rot with my family! I will have my vengeance!”

The foundry was quiet again for a minute. Then the trolls began to come out of hiding, and the Prince of Dragons walked up and nudged Heironymous with his nose. The agent rolled painfully to his side, and winced. “I suppose the universe owed me that,” he said weakly. As he picked himself up off of the floor, he told the dragon, “I’ve got to catch him. Saint George is going to want his sword back, and his first stop in his search is going to be us.”

The dragon breathed smoke and growled. Heironymous looked at him sternly and said, “Our time here is up. Scorched earth. Nobodycan know we were here. Nobody survives. Except her,” he said, pointing at Crystal. “Deal’s off- I’ll make it up to you. You protect her with your life, or you will answer to your father.” The dragon lowered his head in submission, and Heironymous ran for the door.

As he got to his car, he heard the dragon roar, followed by a troll screaming, “Treacherrryyyyyyyy!” followed by only screams. He knew the Prince would walk away from the site in human form when he was done. They didn’t complete what they came to do, but they gave Indigo a head start. Now though, recovering Ascalon was the priority.