Fight la Fight

"'Meet me at the Orbital Elevator. Dye your hair a different color - and not just a different shade of red. Wear sunglasses, so no-one can see your eye-patch. Wear a different outfit, preferably with different colors. I'd tell you not to wear your scarf, but I know you'd just try and kill me for suggesting it.'" Said Lucy, in her best, and most offensive, Lordmillion impression. She flipped the letter around, shrugged, and slid it back into her jacket. "Well, that's all he wrote."

Sefer looked up at her, and stared blankly, before taking another lick of his ice cream. "He's got a point."

"Eh?" asked Lucy, perched on the surrounding, half-height wall which surrounded the Ice cream parlor of the elevator station lobby. She wore a pair of blue-grey skinny jeans, with a pair of white Air Max trainers, and a grey, tight-fitting t-shirt with a v-neck collar. She also wore a thin, button-less, dark-blue woman's blazer, which reached down to the middle of her thigh. She wore her scarf, but backwards, like some kind of art/coffee-house/arty-coffee-house critic with a specialty in never being satisfied. She had dyed her hair blonde, and wore a pair of black, frame-less sunglasses.

"Well, everyone in this universe seems to wear the same outfit, day in, day out, 'til they die. I don't believe it's beyond the realms of reason that, seeing as you ain't wearing what you was before, people might not think you're the same person."

Lucy tilted her head to the side. "No, that can't be right."

Lordmillion entered the lobby, dressed in a black suit, with a thick winter coat, with leather gloves and a dark red scarf hanging loosely around his neck. A pair of black aviator glasses concealed his eyes, and his hair was slicked backwards. Lucy slid down from the wall, and dragged Sefer with her as she closed in on him. He adjusted his glasses with his index finger as they approached.

"I'm glad to see you've followed my instructions."

"I don't like not having red hair, Scrubmillion."

"It will all be worthwhile, if we can get to the high orbital station without harassment. So if anyone asks - you're my wife, and Sefer is our son."

"Son?" she replied, looking to Sefer, and then back to Vincent, scratching her head.

"Our adopted son."

"Okay, but our family name gets to be Vangelis. And my name's Veronica, and Sefer, he's called Vash."

~~~~

A few hours later, the elevator cart slid into place at the high orbital station, and the doors opened to a lobby filled with dead bodies. Lucy's hand shot up to her mouth at the smell, as Vincent stepped in, Drawing Shiroryu.

"Someone sold us out."

Sefer readied his Alloy Cannon, scanning the room. Suddenly, from the blind spots of the room they emerged; six ghostly figures, carrying very real weapons; between them they possessed two Katana, two Wakizashi, and two Tanto. Each had a black blade, with golden tsuba, corresponding to the silk wraps around their handles. Lordmillion's eye twitched as they closed in on him.

"I knew I'd see you eventually. But I didn't think you'd be the first Sword that Nails would send after me."

"I am the flail of God. If you had not committed great sins, I would not have been sent here to punish you." replied an aloof yet powerful voice, originating from somewhere behind the Lobby. Lordmillion charged towards the nearest figure, who was armed with a Katana. He swung towards him, forcing the figure to bring up a block, though Lordmillion shot backwards from his feint, unleashing a barrage of starfire beams, which tore through the ghostly image, though without destroying it. Gritting his teeth, he kicked forwards, cutting towards the figure's knees. The figure held out his blade in a Zanbato horse-killing stance, and Lordmillion grinned, kicking off the ground before he reached the figure, and flipping over him. He drove Shiroryu into the soft metal which composed the back of the ghost's Katana, splintering it. The ghost spasmed, releasing the sword, as its essence was drawn towards the blade, repairing the damage but consuming the fighter in the process. Lordmillion grinned, before a Tanto came at him, with multiple indiscriminate cutting and slashing motions directed towards him. He struggled as the fighter pushed him backwards, before unleashing a Kiai powerful enough to send the figure sliding backwards in spite of its immateriality. Then, with it stunned, a single stroke from Shiroryu was all that was needed to cut the Tanto in half. It fell to the ground, before consuming its ghostly wielder to repair itself. He turned to see that Lucy had already taken out one of the fighters, and was finishing off a second with an attack that she, for some reason, felt the need to announce before performing. Lordmillion charged towards a Tanto, installing a forty-five degree bend to the blade with a single airborne kick, before cutting it in half with a spinning stroke whilst still in midair. He rushed to defeat the final opponent, before grinding to a halt as a huge cylinder of yellow energy consumed it, originating from the alloy cannon in Sefer's hands. He nodded curtly towards the young boy, as Lucy collected herself, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand.

"Defeating my Blade Ashigaru is merely a rite of passage for those desiring the privilege of fighting a true Seven Swords master in combat." said the voice, as the blades rose from the ground, and began flying through the station. They tore apart the inner walls of the station, moving at blinding speed, and not a minute passed before the entire level had been reduced to a rubble-strewn, hexagonal field, perfect for dueling. Sitting in the middle of it, with his back turned to the elevator, was the Seven Swords master himself. He stood up, as the orbiting blades slid their sheathes on his body; the two Katana positioned parallel on his back, the Wakizashi on the outside of his knees, and the Tanto at an angle on his collar bones, so that they formed a V. The man had a powerful, top-heavy build, and wore black kimono-styled robes, though the front half of the skirt was cut away to reveal extremely baggy black pants, which rapidly narrowed at the shin as golden bandages were wrapped tightly around them, which were also wrapped around his feet, underneath black wooden sandals. His right arm lay across his stomach, hand laying loosely on the handle of the one blade he had not previously dispatched; a Nodachi, of the same style and design as the other blades. His left arm initially appeared to be covered by a flowing black cloak which he wore sideways, but on closer inspection his left arm was simply not there. He had blonde, wavy hair, and appeared to be in his fifties, with pronounced bags under his lazy, yet percievably kind eyes.

"Vincent Lordmillion... Or should I say, Neo Astray?"

"I haven't used that name in a long time, Han Akagami."

"My name is Swords Seraphim."

"Have you drawn your Nodachi since we last met? Or do you still live in the fear that drawing it may kill God?"

"It's not a fear if it's justified, Neo. My left arm did not forget its sin when Lucrezia cut it from my body. Its power resides within me; the power of the two Nodachi of the Eight Sword Style, focused into the single Nodachi of the Seven Sword Style."

"You give yourself too much credit."

"I give myself no such credit, Lordmillion." replied Han, chuckling. "I am merely a vessel for the wills of Nails Nihilism. And it is not for mere vessels to decide whether God shall die."

"If you have the power," interrupted Lucy, readying Avenger, "then that in itself justifies any decisions you want to make with it. The only people who don't follow that rule are Idealists, and Idealists are cunts."

Han smiled, drawing one of the Katana sheathed on his back. "It is almost a shame that your life is already forfeit. I'm sure Nails would have quite liked to have met you." he added, slamming the base of Katana's handle against the base of the other sheathed Katana, and drawing it out as a double-bladed weapon. Lucy grinned, and charged.

The central chamber of the laboratory was dark, lit only by a faint glow emanating from the window to the control tower, and cast by various LEDs and dials throughout the space. The silence in the chamber was deafening, an oppressive lack of sound that made Keva Nikolau’s head ache. Even the clacks of high heels on steel gangway were absorbed by the chamber, seemingly pulled into the machinery throbbing in the darkness. There was a moment where Keva was completely absorbed in the sensory deprivation of the chamber, broken by a voice that emerged ephemeral from the darkness behind her.

“Terminal Midnight is complete. Lady Sinister, Dr. Hartley wishes to know if you’d like the preliminary testing to begin?”

“That won’t be necessary. Release him.”

“L-Lady Sinister I don-“

“I didn’t ask for your opinion. Release him.”

“Y-yes Lady Sinsiter, right away.”

Keva stepped almost tentatively toward the central tower of the chamber. It seemed to sense her presence, as it began a slow rotation, a door opening in the cylindrical surface. A blue light leaked out, washing the entire chamber a clinical tone. The cylindrical tower finished its rotation, the door now facing Keva and the gangway. All she could see was the harsh blue light, but then something shifted, a dark shape straining against its bindings. Keva stepped forwards again, reaching up to the blue light.

“Full form carbon-composite armour, particle field emitter,  composite alloy framework, biomaterial core, dual arbratrium flip energy blades, MNC-23 rocket packs installed in 7 places across the unit-“

“Z.E.R.O;  Zendanzer Elite Robotic Operative.”

“That is its official designation, Lady Sinister.”

There was a dull clang as the magnetic holding clamps released. The unit slumped forward, its digitigrade legs taking the strain of its weight. It had long, slender limbs, with hulking musculature present in the upper arms and legs, but the lower of each limb was far more skeletal. The body was composed of large, angular pectoral plates above a compact core of abdominal armour. No biomass was visible through the layers of carbon composite armour and neoprene skin. The entire unit was matt black, save for the burnished silver faceplate, carved in the style of Italian classical sculptures. The male face was beautiful, its full lips parted slightly, evocatively. The faceplate sat proud from the surrounding black plate work that made up the “head” of the unit.

Keva climbed the few steps up to the unit, her hand outstretched. She caressed its chin, her thin fingers running over the silver plate.

“You are so beautiful.”

She planted a single kiss on the parted lips.

“My Abimelech.”

Azariah centered his reticule over the ship, which was rapidly becoming a bigger target as he closed in. Iris and Marquis flanked either side of him, their deflector shields operating at full power to protect him from incoming fire. The cockpit's rangefinder rapidly scrolled, until the ship was within firing range, and it emitted an audible tone.

"Launching Payload."

Iris and Marqius hit their air-brakes, pulling away from the formation. The underside of Azariah's Soryu opened up, and a missile resembling more a Latin cross than a weapon of war emerged. The adjustment thrusters mounted on the arms of the cross rapidly fired to perfect the firing angle, and then the entire missile shot forwards, the arms folding back against the body to reduce air resistance. Azariah watched intently as the flare of blue light originating from the rear of the missile shot towards the ship, disappearing just before impact.
Or rather, what he thought would be impact. An alert, notifying him of a failure to detonate, flickered into his peripheral vision. His breath stopped, but he did not allow himself to panic; instead, he keyed in a magnification order for his main forward camera. The magnified image presented itself to him, overlaid on the normal image.

The missile had stopped en route, as a result of being caught in the hand of some seven-foot-tall robot hovering just in front of the hull of the ship. The being was almost entirely unarmored, with its black, skeletal inner frame exposed, save for some of the more delicate instruments in the chest - including the two clavicle-mounted, heavy caliber machine cannons - which were covered by thin, triangular plates of black tritanium. The being's legs and arms were disproportionately long, though the torso was smaller, presumably to make it a smaller target. Its arms ended in three-fingered hands, with armor-piercing claws present at both the finger tips and the knuckles. Each forearm featured a large, mounted weapon on top; the left arm possessed a rocket-propelled grappling claw, whilst the right possessed a triple-barreled autocannon. Its legs ended in even more disproportionately large feet, with a single segmented toe piece set into the foot itself, and making up nearly half the width. It possessed a sensor array in the form a tail, which resembled a half-width caterpillar track, hanging loosely behind it. A large, cylindrical device half the height and slightly wider than the robot's torso was affixed to its back, and mounted on either side of this were its primary weapons; on the right, a huge three-barreled gatling gun attached by a ball-and-socket joint to a stubby manipulator arm, which would presumably allow the robot to raise the weapon over its shoulder and fire it from there, and on the left, sheathed via a hard-point was a huge, solid bladed sword, nearly as tall as the being. The handle of the sword extended up and above its right shoulder, allowing for easy drawing. The head possessed two sensor antennae resembling the ears of a rabbit, but much shorter, with a single, glowing red mono-eye partially hidden under a visor which extended over its otherwise featureless face, and a small chin sensor resembling an ancient Egyptian beard, but shorter.

Azariah grimaced, and accelerated towards the machine, firing bursts from his nose-mounted railgun. The robot dropped the X2 missile, and shot towards Azariah, loosing rounds from its wrist-mounted cannon. They shot past each-other, with the robot turning on the spot, catching Azariah within his wide turning arc as he circled back round to attack. Rounds tore through the hull of the Soryu, alarms blaring within the cockpit. Azariah brought the reticule over the robot, but it rapidly dropped away, the damaged surfaces preventing the Soryu from flying stable. He locked on his short-range AA missiles and loosed them towards the robot. An explosion engulfed it, along with a cloud of dense smoke. For a moment it seemed that it had been destroyed, before the machine shot from the cloud, undamaged, and with its sword drawn. Azariah pulled the control stick backwards as far as it could go, but it was too late. The blade cut cleanly through the wing, so much so that Azariah could barely feel it until the aircraft began listing to the side, and loosing altitude. He fought to regain control, pulling the nose up just in time to avoid impacting the ground, and circled back around for a final attack.

"Iris, if I don't make it out of this one alive, tell Chef that if he doesn't give you more bacon, I'll personally come back and haunt him. Okay?"

"What are you ta-?"

The communications radome exploded, along with one of the panoramic panels which composed the interior of the cockpit. Blood trickled down Azariah's face as the shards embedded themselves in his forehead, and a mechanical rattle began to sound from within the aircraft. He pulled the nose up, and got a lock on the machine. The robot raised its gatling cannon up and over its shoulder, before flipping it so that it faced directly backwards, revealing a mechanical port on the rear of the spherical mount. Holding its sword by the back so the cutting edge faced downwards, he slid the base of the handle into the mount, and the blade opened up in half along the length of it, the space between the two halves crackling with energy. The robot aimed the railgun at Azariah, and fired.

"Heh."

Azariah loosed his entire payload towards the machine. Nearly a half-dozen AA missiles and four times as many dumb-fire rockets cleared the jet before the railgun slug tore through it, breaking it in half. Azariah's ejector seat shot out of the explosion, gliding forwards for a few moments before sliding into the ground, narrowly avoiding the flaming wreckage which shot over it. The belts and straps holding Azariah into the chair broke, and he shot out of it, scraping against the tarmac, his clothes tearing, and the right side of his face disappearing under a torrent of blood.

Running Rain descended from the sky, returning its sword to its holster, and its cannon to its original position. Its monoeye flickered left and right, scanning the area, before he finally allowed his feet to reach the ground. Azariah clawed the ground with his hand, as if trying to drag himself towards the machine. A foot landed on it, snapping his wrist, before kicking him in the side of the ribs, rolling him over. Skye stood on his chest, before squatting down, and holding a Ka-Bar to his throat. Covering his damaged eye with his gloved hand, he looked up at her with contempt, and utter hatred.

"Das Leben is Suss and, uh, I don't know the rest of it." she said, giggling. "Just pretend I said something ominous and German" she added, before leaning down and kissing him. She pulled his gloved hand from his face and embraced him with her own hands, sensuously drawing in the scent of him with her short, stubby nose, before pulling her head back and wiping his blood from her mouth with the back of her hand. She smiled at him, before driving the Ka-Bar into the wrist of his gloved hand hard enough to penetrate the tarmac underneath, pinning him to the ground.

He screamed.

The swordsman’s head whipped around, his cold eyes meeting with Rizumé’s for a fraction of a second, before his arm shot up, and his sword flew at her. In an instant it was over. Rizumé slumped to the floor, the blade jutting from between her shoulder blades. The Swordsman’s face spilt in a smile, and then split again, Kurazo’s blade slicing his head clean in half. The smile widened for a moment more before the two halves slid apart, allowing a wash of pinkish blood and fluid to spill out over his naked shoulders. The samurai sheathed his blades slowly, and then kicked the still standing body, which shot through the air to impact against a boulder, where it spilt apart with a vicious force.

Jonbiro knelt by the already dead girl, tears streaming down his face. “Om mani padme hum, Om mani padme hum, Om mani padme hum…” The monk’s body shook with his shuddering sobs. Kurazo placed a huge hand on his shoulder.

“You know what I must do.”

Jonbiro knodded slowly, tears still streaming down his face. His lips parted again, gasping past his sobs. “Om mani padme hum, Om mani padme hum.”

Kurazo knelt down a few paces away, and unsheathed on of his katana. He began removing his cuirass, unbuckling the straps and peeling away the segments of armour. Jonbiro stood, palmed his hands, and bowed deeply toward the girl’s body.

Ash rained from the sky like snow.

Azariah woke up, his right arm searing with pain. He shot upwards in the bed, and gazed in horror at the bandaged stump where his hand had been. He began hyperventilating, before collecting himself, and inspecting the room. It was no prison; in fact, it appeared to be an officer's quarters, with a single bed, a desk with a computer, a shower built into the wall, and a window facing outwards to space. A splitting burst of pain shot through his head, and he gasped, his remaining hand shooting up to his forehead, where it found an assortment of bandages wrapped around his forehead.

Skye sat on the end of the bed, her legs hanging off the side. She leaned back with her hand behind her head, resting against the wall, and flicking a chromed lighter on and off.
"Boss says I gotta apologize for cutting your hand off. At least, without anaesthesis." she said, bringing the flame of the lighter dangerously close to her nose. "No, anesthetic. So if we're done here, I've got shit to do."

"Am I a prisoner?" he asked, his voice weaker than he had anticipated.

"No, you're free to go. We're not going to give you any shuttles or escape pods, but if you're willing to take your chances with the cold, hard vacuum of space then you're free to go."

"So I'm a prisoner?"

"Charismatic, ain't ya?" she said, drawing her legs up onto the bed, and crawling towards him. She ran her hand over his thigh, and he shuddered. "Women aren't your thing?" she asked, chuckling, and drawing up next to him. She pushed him to the edge of the bed, sitting between him and the wall. He remained silent. "Yeah, real charismatic." She drew a cigarette from her hoodie, and lit it. She offered one to Azariah, but he made no reply. She slid it back into its pack, before returning it to the interior of her hoodie.

"You cut my hand off."

"I've cut a lot of people's hand off. I've cut a lot worse off a lot of people." she said, drawing the cigarette away from her mouth. "I'm irredeemable, truly. And to be precise, I stabbed it off. I think that was the part Veron was most pissed about. I don't see what the problem was." she added, shrugging. "You were unconscious by then."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Blood loss or something, probably."

"I meant, Why did you cut my hand off?"

"Oh." she said, throwing the cigarette childishly across the room. "Uh, some gay guy with a weird haircut told me to. I think he's got a secret project or something. He needed your hand. Yours, specifically."

Azariah fell silent. Skye fiddled about for a few minutes, before climbing from the bed, picking up the cigarette, and discarding it. She pulled the chair out from the desk, and sat down on it backwards, facing Azariah. She pulled a knife from her hoodie and began toying with it, and this continued for a few more minutes until she became bored, dangling the knife over the back of the chair with it held between her thumb and long finger.

"When I was a little boy, I lived in a feud-"

"A little girl, you mean?"

The knife shot through Azariah's hair, entering the wall behind him. He slid into the corner, terrified.

"Did I fucking stutter?"

"G-go on." he said, shivering.

She sighed. "I lived on a feudal world. You know, knights and -yeah. Anyway, I was an orphan, but I suppose that's standard fare in this universe. One day, the local lord - you know, who owns the village? He came and adopted me. It was great. Better than being homeless, I mean. Then one day, a doctor came. A proper doctor, with goggles and shit. Clearly not from that world. The Lord - I can't remember his name - well, that night, he offered me a glass of wine. Of course, that wasn't the only thing in the glass, was it?"

She drew another cigarette, and lit it. Her eyes remained fixed on the flickering flame as she continued.

"There's probably some kind of scientific name for it. There's probably some on this ship for inducing comas. Anyway, looking at me now, you can probably guess what had happened when I woke up. Part of the procedure included a memory loss agent, too. The Lord told me he had hit my head, and the departing doctor had simply been around for a checkup. Told me I was his daughter. Told me daughters did whatever their fathers fuckin' told them to do, as well. The charade continued for a few months, before the memory agent wore off. I don't think he was anticipating that. I felt... well, you can probably hazard a guess as to how I might have felt."

"That's... so fucked up-"

"Can it dipshit, I ain't finished. Anyway, I, uh, killed him. In retrospect, I wish I had drawn it out longer. Savored it. I took his fat, balding, greasy head and held it down into the coals of the fire. Not long enough to kill him, but probably enough to make him wish I had. Then, I beat him to death with a red-hot poker. It took ages. My arms were all horrible and atrophied. And do you know what I realized after that, as I stood over his dead body?"

Azariah considered the question, visibly disturbed. "What did you realize?"

"I liked hurting people." she replied, grinning. "And more importantly, I had found my reason for living again. So, the point of telling you this is to offer a little bit of perspective. I've never spared anyone I've tried to kill. I've never let anyone get away, either. You're the first, in, well, ever."

"Why?"

"Fuck knows. Sexual attraction, I guess? Look, it's not about the why, okay? I'm completely evil. I'm the worst person to ever exist. Well, I'm not, but I've never met anyone worse than me. It's my nature. Sparing you was a direct contravention of my entire raisin detere, whatever that means. You see, for people like you, saving children from burning homes and being nice to animals, it's all in your nature. It doesn't hurt to be good. But for people like us, the ones who had to break to survive,"

She took a draw from her cigarette. "It hurts to be good. It's the most painful thing we can ever do. So, you know, just think about that, before you think I'm evil for just cutting your hand off. See if you can get into our mindset before you start seeing us as a bunch of villains and criminals. I mean, you don't have to. But you're going to be around us for a long time - from here to the center of the universe is a pretty long journey, after all. So it'll probably be a good survival technique."

She stood up, discarding the cigarette. "'Das Leben ist süß und Erfüllung'. That's our motto, by the way." she said, sighing. "I fucking hate French."

The carrier broke the atmosphere, slipping into the zephyrs that hung around them like spectres. The ship was vast, a roughly oblong construct with a series of tower projecting from the upper of the body. The prow and aft of the ship were far deeper than the midsection, which held a series of pods, their atmospheric dampener fins retracted in their docked position. The nose of the ship sported a huge Chinese character, emblazoned in neon blue- the emblem of Wu Sai Multiplanetary.

Sirens Sinister watched the ship break through stratocumulus from the rearmost conning tower. She stood at the main viewing window, a small hand perched on one hip. The other cradled a parasol which rested on her shoulder. She was small; slight of frame was the description most would use. Her clothes would be considered, to an observer in the know, highly fashionable; she wore a short purple skirt, which fringed high black boots with gum soles. A black jacket with a large funnel collar covered her petite top half. Her hair was long, with a full fringe that highlighted the feline features of her face. To most she would be considered highly attractive, in that variety of attraction that almost feels guilty.

At least, these were the sentiments that consumed Lyle Loathing, who was slouched on a black leather couch set back away from the window. His black hair was slicked back, with a single strand falling forward over his forehead. He wore a pair of black wayfarer sunglasses which perched on his long, thin nose. His thin lips were parted slightly around the butt of a cigarette nearing its completion. He wore a black two piece suit, a white dress shirt and a dark green tie. His boots were of a similar shade, a forest green leather pair. A grey duffel bag was sat at his feet. Aside of the couch, Sinister and Loathing, the room was entirely empty.

“Ya know, this entire operation busts my balls.”

“You didn’t have to come.”

“Tch. HQ woulda bust more than my balls if I’d declined. Anyway, what better way to see if Terminal Midnight is gonna work that by trying it out in combat?”

Sirens turned her gaze toward him, over her left shoulder. “Of course Terminal Midnight will work,” she answered hotly. “I’m overseeing the entire operation. The ZERO is… its perfect.”

“If you say so,” Lyle drawled.

There was a brief interlude, in which Lyle fidgeted, and then a single klaxon sounded. A calm male voice echoed throughout the chamber.

“Atmospheric entry is complete. Strike Team 1 to report to Pod 1.”

Lyle grinned, letting his head loll back on the couch.

“This is our shot!”

Nails sat in the middle of the platform, his legs crossed. Sheer nothingness surrounded him. Supposedly, Finality - the vast expanse of blackness in which he currently presided - was located deep within the core of Noblesse Oblige, the Sacred World Organization's space colony headquarters. In truth, Finality was its own plane of reality, and though it had an entrance and exit point tied to a physical location in the material world, it was as far detached from that reality as heaven or hell.

A railgun shot sped towards Nails, and he stood up, turning, and calmly erecting an energy shield infront of him, which took the form of a tessellating pattern of green hexagons. The shot impacted and deflected off into the darkness without so much as causing the shield to flicker. Nail smiled, and materialized Kurairyu around his waist, drawing it. The weapon was a bastard sword, with a white steel blade which featured kanji carvings cut into the flat of it, which revealed what seemed to be a well of green energy inside the blade. The hilt was matte black steel, overlaid with matte gunmetal panels and exposed micro-pistons which lent a mechanical design to the weapon, suggesting hidden technology. The cross-guard was in the shape of a V, with the tips following the direction of the blade for a few centimeters before sharpening to a point; the pommel was identical, though facing an opposite direction, and being much shorter. Between the two prongs of the pommel was a beam saber emitter, with the power generator and field manipulator being contained within the hilt of the sword, which featured an ergonomic design and trigger not dissimilar to that of an assault rifle. He shot upwards towards his assailant, a green aura appearing over the blade of Kurairyu as energy seemed to leak out of the carvings on it. A glint appeared in the distance, and Nails rolled out of the way of a second railgun shot, willing a barrage of green energy beams into existence as he did. They shot towards the distance, but the assailant had already accelerated towards Nails, discarding their railgun. Their blades met, and Kurairyu met its bastard brother Kurimuzon once again.

"Arch Angel?"

"It's Zoe, If you don't mind."

Nails smiled, as Zoe kicked off from him, drawing an anti-tank beam pistol which was stored in the side skirt of her armor. The rounds shot past nails as he willed more beam barrages into existence. Zoe came to a stop just before reversing into a mesh of them, and Nails came down on top of her, the tip of Kurairyu above her chest. She deflected the blade at the last moment, and drove her fist into his chest. He shot backwards, as yet more beams materialized to cover him. She evaded around them, securing Kurimuzon to the magnetic clamp on her waist and retrieving a full-sized beam rifle from her back armour. Nails smiled, as the handle of his sword rotated 45 degrees forward, and the blade split in half, revealing interlocked, gear-like teeth under the outer surface. This, too, opened up, and the space between the two halves crackled with green energy. They exchanged shots, spinning around eachother, as Nails materialized an entire nexus of beams to support his efforts. Zoe managed to evade his attacks for a few seconds before a materialized beam shot through the magazine of her rifle, causing in to explode. She shot away, drawing Kurimuzon and readying it. Nails shot towards her, transforming his sword back into blade mode. Its length extended by half as much again as it split into multiple-chevron shaped segments, the green energy inside filling the gaps between them. Zoe ignited her armor thrusters, rushing up to meet him. Their blades met, and an disc of energy shot out from between the two blades, filling the expanse with burning light.

"You're pretty good." said Zoe, baring her fangs in annoyance.

"Actually, I'm perfect."

She shot backwards, away from Nails, and onto the barrel of Alistair's gun. The round shot through the right side of her chest, emerging from the other side in a flash of gore and armor shrapnel. She jerked forwards, her eyes wide, and her mouth agape.

"Oh - Jesus fuck! I'm so sorry! Here, let me make that symmetrical for you-"

Zoe slid an anti-tank knife out of the underside of her forearm armor, and forced the blade out of the hilt as she turned, driving the blade into Alistair's temple. Blood spewed from the symmetrical exit wound, and he dropped his revolver, which fell to the platform below them. She pulled the blade out and threw it at Nails, who deflected it with a swipe of Kurairyu. Taking the opportunity, she raised her pistol, before suddenly becoming limp falling to the aforementioned platform, blood trailing from her mouth. She landed with a sickening crack as her leg took the force of the fall. Nails smiled, and descended gracefully, returning Kurairyu to its sheath.

"Lordmillion betrayed you by sending you here." he announced. "Even with that sword, you never stood a chance."

"You... f-fucking ba-"

"Actually," he interrupted. "I don't really care what you have to say."

Alistair's body began to disintegrate, as did the blood pooling around it. Zoe clawed towards Nails. He smiled, and stepped over her hands, standing at the edge of the platform. He returned to his sitting position, and suddenly a column of light appeared in the darkness before him.

The being illuminated by it was nearly eighteen meters tall, and suspended in the darkness, as if crucified, and struggling against its bindings. It was humanoid, though its limbs and neck were half as long again as a normal human's, by proportion, and its torso was horribly disfigured; it was as if everything above the base of the ribcage had been duplicated and placed on top of it. Its lower set of arms were atrophied, ending in stubs, and clung to its chest, unaffected by the force crucifying it. The lower torso possessed no visible pectoral muscle, whilst the upper torso had its pectoral muscles fused into a single mass, which stuck out of its chest in a way that suggested breasts, and carried on up and above the being's collar bones, sticking out of its back in a V shape that half resembled a stunted pair of wings, and half a large, ornate collar. The top half of its head had a human shape, but the bottom half resembled more some kind of beast, with its nose leading into a short but pronounced snout. It possessed far too many teeth, all of which were incisors, and with no cheeks, its mouth extended all the way to the back of its head, and curved upwards to resemble some kind of disturbing grin. Its human-like eyes were lidless, giving them an alert appearance, which with is hairless but furrowed brow, compounded the disturbing effect of its grin. Its skin was entirely off-white, and slimy, with a disgusting embryonic quality. Its facial expression and directionless gaze remained entirely unchanged as it twitched spasmodically, struggling to break free of its restraints.

"SOU/RCE. Second-stage Omnipotent Unit for the Reset of the Common Era." said Nails, smiling. "When the thirteenth Chimaera is returned to its body, it will finally reawaken from its infancy, to be shortly followed by the rest of the human race. I'm sure God would understand the steps I'm taking."

“Let’s get this over with then. Jesus Christ, this is hard work,” Loathing moaned. Sinister stood at the edge of the platform, ZERO on its haunches next to her like some horrific demon. She kept one slender, small hand on the black carapace at all times, as though to reassure herself that it was still there. Loathing drew a laptop from the duffel bag, and sat down, grunting as he crossed his long legs.

“I would have been quite able to run the diagnostics myself,” Sinister retorted coldly.

“Oh I’ve no doubt,” Loathing drawled, “No doubt at all. Thing is, would you have done it as well as me?”

Sinster drew her zipper up to her chin and huffed her shoulders. “Are we ready?”

“Ready as we’ll ever be,” Loathing smirked.

ZERO leapt from its perch, moving so quickly it appeared as a shadowy blur to the two observers.  It freefell for a few hundred metres before thrusters in the backs of its haunches fired, propelling it forward onto a similar platform to the observers. This platform, however, was already a battleground. Two teams of fighters had begun a brawl in the Cloud City, the residential district of a Wu Sai factory planet. In a bid to protect its property, the executive board had been ready to deploy a team to eliminate the rogue workers. However, Lady Sinister had ordered the team to stay in the ship, and had instead descended with ZERO and Loathing. She wanted to see ZERO fight first-hand. She might even join in.

The black suit dove into the mass of one group, and Sinister leant forward over the edge to get a better view. “I can’t see from up here Lyle,” she said with a pout.

Loathing sighed, but stood all the same, his legs unfolding themselves from under him. He strode to the edge, his laptop in his hand. “You want to go down?” Sinister nodded, maintaining the pout. Loathing sighed again, and stepped backwards off the platform, dropping the few hundred metres to the other plateau. He landed in a soft crouch, his laptop wobbling in his palm. Sinister alighted beside him, her parasol having somehow slowed her descent. Loathing sidestepped a bolt of energy which coursed through the mist, impacting on a concrete block and sending glowing shards of debris splintering through the air. Sinister caught a few of the shards with a sweep of her parasol, using it to shield her. The pair walked across the battlefield toward ZERO, which was currently sat watching a small outcropping of broken concrete. Sinister lay a hand on its side, and the head rotated toward her, the mask glinting in the grey light.

“It’s ok. Go.” Sinister’s voice was soft, cooing. The head rotated back to face the outcropping. It raised one long, thin arm, pointing it out to one side. Its 'hand' flipped back, and a blade unfolded itself, flipping out of the forearm like a straight razor. The blade was shiny silver, long and wide. There was a low hum, then a flash of energy shot along the blade, suffusing it in a purple aura. Sinister giggled. ZERO leapt toward the outcropping, the blade raised above its head, as though it were to smite the outcropping itself from on high. It brought the blade down with such speed that Loathing didn’t even see it happen. The rock showed no signs of damage, and Loathing began exhaling a sigh, but was cut short. The rock split clean in half, the edges of the cut glowing with molten yellow concrete. The entire edifice dropped away, plummeting to the platform below, raining around ZERO, who shrugged off the debris with juddering motions.

“Jeez, that thing gives me the creeps,” Loathing murmured. Sinister shot him a venomous sideways glance.

ZERO’s sword flipped back, and its forearm closed back up around the slot. It reached over one shoulder, removing a long, black rifle, which it caressed with both long hands. A gleaming silver flex tube connected the rifle to a plug in ZERO's back. The barrel unfolded, dust covers sliding back to reveal perforations in the black shape. A purple glow emanated from the base of the barrel, visible through the perforations. ZERO turned, sighting the rifle at the now exposed floor of the building it had rust tore the cover from. There was a low hum that rose into an ear splitting drone, and then a flash of purple energy which lanced clean through the building. ZERO wrenched the rifle right, the beam retaining coherence, and it cut through concrete and metal, severing the building in two. Then the explosion began, starting at the hole that had been made first, and then coursing along the glowing line of the cut, showering dust and debris over the entire platform. Loathing cast a glance over his shoulder, and saw that the other fighters had stopped their melee, and were instead watching the suit as it effortlessly tore apart their homes.

The beam fizzled out, and ZERO lowered the rifle. Its head turned, looking directly back at Sinister and Loathing. Sinister nodded vigorously, which seemed to please the thing, which turned, lumbering back toward the pair. Loathing heard a small whimper behind him. The fighters knew what was coming next.

Hector paced around the ruins of what had presumably been a throne room. No intelligent life had inhabited it for nearly a century, and that made it a prime location for fighters looking to minimise collateral damage, which meant there was always a squad posted here. It was a pretty shitty post, having to deal with the humidity and the bugs, but you got good numbers here and if there was one thing the boss liked, it was numbers. Hector pressed a button on his waist and his neck began to hiss as the helmet detached itself. He reached up and took it off, breathing the air in. To the others it was toxic, but his species could breathe in just about anything. If there were two things the Krae were good at it was surviving, and making sure nothing else did. They had never been very successful in the galaxy thanks to their general belief that hitting someone with an axe was a perfectly good way to open negotiations. Even for a Krae Hector would have been considered ugly, scars lacing his patchy blue skin. His eyes were constantly moving, all six of them like specks of black. His thick jaw seemed to house more teeth than should have been allowed to grow, each of them yellowing and deformed.

The ruins were actually quite beautiful if you looked at them closely, and Hector took the time to study the craftsmanship, running his finger along a door frame, carved into which there appeared to be various kings and deities. It was almost a shame when a man came plowing through it, turning the legacy of an ancient civilization into dust. Hector placed the helmet back on his head, the power returning just in time for him to hear Mickey's voice in his ear.

"-sending him your way. Make sure he doesn't give us anyway more trouble, but don't kill him. I don't want to explain to the boss why we can't pick this dumb fucker up if he decides we need him."

Hector turned and walk down the path cut through the trees by his new opponent. The swordsman was hunched over, recovering from his unplanned trajectory. Hector took the opportunity and forcefully placed a power armour-enhanced foot into the fighter's stomach, sending him hurtling back into the undergrowth. He writhed for a moment before holding out a shaking hand towards Hector, who moved forwards to finish his opponent. He raised a fist and brought it slamming down, the impact only barely interrupted by the massive sword that hit him in the back. He tumbled forwards, the sword ricocheting off his back with a clang, spinning through the air and into the outstretched hand of its wielder. By the time Hector had got to his feet his opponent was stood opposite him, the blade held in front of him.

"My name is Titan, I hope you are prepared to-"

Hector moved forwards with startling speed, sidestepping the blade and bringing his elbow into Titan's stomach and sending him off balance, the blade hurtling round and into Hector's side. The two circled each other for a moment, the swamp silent but for the movement of Hector's armour. Titan made the first move, slashing the blade towards Hector jumped back and blocked a second swing with the side of his arm, knocking the sword back and landing a blow to the fighter's shoulder. Titan bashed Hector with the flat of the blade, sensing him sprawling to the floor. He brought the blade down but Hector rolled to the sideways, knocking the fighter to the ground with a swift kick to the knee. He stood up and placed his foot on the swordsman's back, grabbing his sword arm and wrenching it from it's socket. The swordsman scream was silenced as Hector injected him with a sedative and walked off, raising a hand to his helmet.

"Target eliminated, how's James holding up?"

Lucy's blade clashed against Han's, and the two shot backwards from each other, with Lucy slamming into the outer wall of the station, denting it. Han shot across the length of it, claws deploying from the base of his Sandals to slow him down. He stopped just before Lordmillion's swing, blocking it with the flat of his blade. He jumped backwards as swarm of alloy cannon rounds shot towards him, his spare blades flying out of their sheathes and surrounding him to block Lordmillion and Lucy's combined attack.

"Han, you don't have to do this." said Vincent, swinging towards him. Han un-clipped his Katanas from each other, blocking Vincent with one and Lucy with the other. "You've got no chance of winning. There's no honor to be found."

"You don't understand, Neo. You're still too young and idealistic. Men like me need ideals or causes to fight for." he replied, Kicking Lucy back and bringing both of his swords to bear on Vincent. "We're warriors. Simply existing isn't enough for us."

Lordmillion flew up, unleashing a barrage of starfire beams. The floating blades around Han intercepted the shots, and he flew up, their blades clashing once more. "Then fight for a righteous cause!"

"Righteous is just an advertising term." he replied, launching a scissor attack with his dual blades, which Vincent barely managed to block. "It's how politicians sell their wars. Righteous, justified, necessary. I've seen my brothers in arms die pointlessly in the name of righteousness, Vincent. I've killed terrorists to protect innocent politicians, and later killed those same politicians when they became corrupt dictators."

"And how is Nails any different?!"

"There are no illusions in the Sacred World Organization. We're honest about our desire for power." he replied, flying backwards as Lucy shot up to him. He released his dual Katana, which began to orbit him, and caught her blade in one hand, and driving his fist into her face. Blood trailed from her face as she fell backwards, releasing Avenger, which Han spun towards Vincent. He deflected it, shattering the blade, and sending the two halves spiralling away. Han followed up with an attack from a single Katana, which cut across Vincent's shirt, spewing blood across Han. Vincent shot backwards, clenching his chest. He rolled out of the way of an Alloy Cannon shot without so much as looking, and shot towards Sefer, dragging his Katana across the ground. It shot up at the last moment, slicing Sefer's rifle clean in half, before curling around to the underside of his jaw, stopping just before his neck. Sefer's eyes shot open.

"The battlefield is no place for children. Get out of here."

The sound of a beam saber igniting startled Han, as Sefer cut the katana in half, forcing Han back. Sefer grinning, thrusting towards Han in a fencing style. Han retrieved his second Katana, but that too fell to the beam of Sefer's blade, and Han was forced to kick off backwards, his orbiting weapons remaining behind to duel with Sefer. Unarmed, he took up a Muay Thai stance, as Vincent clambered from the floor, still clenching his chest. The diagonal cut seemed to glow from within with a white light. Regaining his strength, Vincent sheathed Shiroryu, taking up a Jeet Kune Do stance.

"Nails is honest about his desire to power, but... that's not why you follow him."

Han smiled. "A man as evil as him has a lot of powerful enemies. I thought that, maybe, one of them could give me the honorable death I've been seeking."

"It doesn't have to be this way."

"It does." he replied, bowing his head. "I've been empty since that righteous and justified war. I'm the last survivor, Vincent. I want to be reunited with my brothers - there's nothing here in this world for me anymore."

Vincent nodded, stiffening his stance. "If that's what you truly desire." Han looked back up at him, and smiled. The two began circling around eachother. Then, Lucy's fist shot through Han's chest in an explosion of gore and bone, his beating heart clenched in it. He jerked forwards, blood spewing from his mouth, but a smile still on his face.

"Lucy-!"

"No, Vincent. This is... what I wanted."

Lucy frowned, blood trickling from her nose. The trio stood in silence, as Han's blades fell to the floor, freeing Sefer from the duel. A single tear rolled down Han's cheek, as he looked upwards, and whispered;

"Arigatou, Gozaimasu."

Lucy fired her palm cannon, incinerating his heart. His body slid off her arm, Landing on the floor. She kicked him over, pulling his Nodachi from his waist.

"Lucy... you had no right to do that. He wanted to die in a du-"

"Shut the fuck up, Scrub."

"You bastard."

"Bastard, eh?!" she screamed, tears streaming down her face. She ran up to Vincent, her bloodied fist impacting his stomach, winding him. As he doubled over, she pushed him against the wall, dragging his head back up. "I'm not gonna avoid underhanded tactics or dirty tricks just to avoid hurting people's feelings, Scrub, because what the ever-loving fuck can you do with just feelings? If you get killed, you die, and that's the end of that, and nothing can ever bring you back, understand? I'm not having another fucking Artyom on my case!"

"...Lucy?"

"I'm not losing you, Scrub. I care too god-damned much about you and your stupid little, fuck-" she said, slapping him aside the scalp, "fucking undercut whatever it is, and your shit taste in absolutely fucking everything to just let you get wasted in some fucking wu-tang showdown, you hear? What I'm fucking saying is, I'll become evil itself if it means keeping you alive and in one piece."

"You can't-"

"I told you to shut the fuck up, Scrub." she growled, pushing his head against the wall, and her mouth against his. She wrapped her arms around the small of his back and pulled his chest against hers, her frown gradually dissipating.

James jumped forwards, catching the fighter off guard and sending the two of them into the floor, James hammering at his opponent with a series of punches. The two of then struggled for a moment and then the fighter glowed white, a blast of energy sending James flying back. He hit the ground hard, his left shoulder taking most of the impact. He struggled to get himself upright, propping himself up just in time for a kick to the jaw, sending him sprawling back. He kicked out at the air but the fighter grabbed the leg and swung him, sending him flying into a tree. Another swarm of energy blasts smashed into him, James too weak to put up any kind of resistance. He reached up to activate the radio but the fighter grabbed the helmet, ripping it off and leaving James exposed to the toxic atmosphere. With the last of his strength he grabbed the knife at his waist and thrust it into the fighter's chest. The fighter stepped back almost amused by the pathetic act of resistance, unaware of the beeping in his stomach. James vision began to fail him, the sound of the explosion barely registering as everything faded to black.

Ike turned back towards the door, kicking a pile of documents out of his way.

"Where are you going Mr. Harimata? I have not even had a chance to make my proposition."

Ike turned back and advanced on the figure.

"No, you haven't. I don't know where I am, why I'm here or who brought me here. I feel like I've been here for days and I haven't learnt a single thing. Make your proposition if you want, but I am a busy man who does not enjoy having his time wasted."

The figure actually stopped moving. Such had been the noise of the papers flying around the room that the silence was almost deafening.

"I apologise Mr. Harimata. I took you for a man who would appreciate theatrics, but I am glad to be dealing with a man of business. To my proposition then. I have many contacts across the galaxy, and an old friend of mine has asked me to utilise my resources. He wishes for a man of your talents to go after another fighter in the tournament, one that has been causing him no end of trouble."

"You want me to kill some fighter?"

"No, in fact I'm afraid you would be no match for this person. I want you to get close to them, find out exactly what they know and get them to trust you. It should be easy for a man of your considerable charm."

Ike leaned back against a wall, running a hand through his hair

"I'm not a spy. Well, I was in that movie with all the crocodiles, but I don't particularly like you, and so am in no mood to do you any favours."

"I do not owe people favours, Mr. Harimata. You, like every other competitor, have something you want so desperately you would die for it. There are other ways to grant wishes Mr. Harimata, and I am an immensely resourceful man."

All at once the motion resumed and chaos engulfed the room.

Tom groaned as the TV flickered, switching to yet another emergency broadcast. He leaned down over the side of the couch, reaching for the remote he had dropped a few hours ago. A bowl of cheese puffs tumbled from the arm of the sofa to pool on the floor. Tom swore under his breath. When he came up, huffing from the exertion of remote-retrieval, he focused on what the reporter on the TV was saying.

“- Residents are warned that flying debris and energy bursts can cause extreme damage to persons and property, and that all-“

Tom read the scrolling text at the bottom of the screen, mouthing the words as they appeared.

‘COMBAT BREAKS OUT IN NEW LOMAS – RESIDENTS ADVISED TO REMAIN INDOORS AND AS LOW TO THE GROUND AS POSSIBLE AT ALL TIMES’

Tom shrugged, reaching for some of the cheese puffs that had so irresponsibly deposited themselves on the lounge floor. Confident that his own building was safe this far from the centre of-

The wall exploded, and Tom was showered in masonry dust and plaster. He felt a great surge of movement above his head, and then the rear wall of his apartment was torn away too.


Wyatt Dowe pulled back a fist, but looking up and seeing the sheer façade of an apartment block speeding to meet him made him duck his head to his chest and lower the arm cocked behind him. The pair careened through the apartment block, tearing clean through the building and shooting out the other side in a shower of rubble and glass. Wyatt Dowe pulled back a fist, but his opponent drew his knees up hard, and kicked off from Dowe’s chest with enough force to send him shooting toward the ground. Dowe twisted in the air, pushing his palms down to his sides and forcing his descent to slow. He hovered twenty or so metres above his opponent’s impact crater, which was still smoking from the explosion. Dowe dropped to the street, landing softly next to a taxi, which promptly exploded as a bolt of black energy tore through it. Dowe flipped sideways, pirouetting in the air; his opponent darted from the crater, smoke trailing from his clothes. Dowe waited until he was only feet away, and then whipped his leg up, kicking straight into the man’s jaw. The kick connected, and there was a split second of nothing ness as the two forces sought dominance. Dowe’s kick won, and the man went shooting upwards into the air, leaving only a single tooth behind, which plinked to the tarmac street. Dowe looked up, squinting through his goggles against the bright sunlight reflecting off of the huge glass buildings around him. Something shot past, incredibly fast, but Dowe’s enhanced vision just managed to pick out Victorina Sabine darting toward Dowe’s mark. Dowe leapt up into the air, forcing his hands down by his sides; he accelerated until he matched Sabine’s pace.

“You got yours then?” Dowe shouted, with a distinct British accent that was snapped away by the wind. Sabine didn’t bother shouting back, but instead winked and gave thumbs up. Dowe nodded once, and set his face into a somewhat determined expression, accelerating and leaving Sabine behind. He could see his mark now, flying about fifty metres ahead of him. Dowe pushed himself, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead before being ripped away in the wind. He was above him now. Dowe dove, both arms outstretched in front of him. A nexus of energy built ahead of him, a glowing white shield. Dowe dove straight into the man’s back, and he was sent shooting into a building, smashing through the wall of a warehouse and into the floor once again. Dowe sped after him, slinging all of his momentum into a kick which audibly broke the man’s neck. He slumped to the floor, blood leaking from his mouth and nose. Dowe stood straight for a second, before huffing his shoulders and slumping into a crouch. He pulled the goggles from his face; sweat beading on his dark skin around the mark left by the rubber seal. He ran a hand over his buzz cut hair. Sabine peered through the hole in the wall behind him.

“You get ‘im?” her voice echoed through the warehouse. Dowe stood and, shaking his head, muttered an affirmation. Sabine stepped tentatively through the gap, picking her way through the rubble to stand next to Dowe. “Ouch.”

“Hmpf. If he’d just given up when we challenged him first we could have detained him. Now I’ve got yet more blood on my hands.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sabine said, drawing a loose strand of white hair over her ear.

“You know it isn’t as easy as that, Vic.”

“Come on. Let’s go back to HQ.”

Dowe watched Sabine go. She was short, with short white hair pulled into a tufty knot at the base of her skull. She wore a green parka without a hood over a black ballistic vest, and skinny black jeans tucked into a pair of green high topped trainers. She was athletically built, with lithe, strong limbs.

Dowe was tall, with dark skin and a high brow and cheekbones. He wore a green bomber jacket with a large wool collar and lapel, over a dark grey tee. His black jeans were of a baggier fit, cuffed at the ankle, kissing a pair of black military boots. His goggles were black, with a large rubber strap and round red lenses. They hung around his neck when not over his eyes.

Sabine had stopped at the break in the wall, and was looking back expectantly at Dowe. He hiked up to stand next to her, and was greeted by a thunderous applause from a large crowd that had gathered at the bottom of the warehouse wall. Dowe smiled, and both him and Sabine waved. Great. Congratulations, you just broke some guys neck. Thanks, Wyatt!

“City’s safe everyone,” Dowe shouted into the air, “Doomwatch out.”

Sabine and Dowe leapt into the air, speeding away from the warehouse into the sky.

SOME WEEKS LATER

"We built it to your exact specifications," said Gaius, thumbing open the locks on the weapon crate, "though your specifications were, and I quote, 'a big fucking gun that can kill anything ever even vincent with only one shot and it has to be better than what the other guys are getting and it has to be red and look cool and have a cool charge bit where it sucks in the light about the barol - it's actually barrel, by the way - before it fires a big shooty beam."

Lucy shrugged. Wearing a pair of black leggings and a low-cut red poncho over a black vest, she may have almost looked normal, if it weren't for the eyepatch, robotic arms, coat-scarf, and small middle-eastern child, whose head she had locked under her arm. She released him as the weapons crate opened, and he rebounded across the room, darting out of the way of the workers unloading Lordmillion's shipment onto his ship, Assault Shadow, which was docked at the orbital station. It was all highly illegal, but Lucy threatened one of the customs officers with a gun and they ran off. She rubbed the red hand mark on her face where Vincent had slapped her following her impromptu kiss - or, as Sefer had called it, "Innappropriately Timed Sexual Assault", a phrase which Lucy had memorized to use as the name of her 80s throwback synth-grunge band she was planning on forming after winning the universal tournament.

"Last time I saw you, you two were fighting for life and death - and now you're, uh, having a domestic?"

"Get bent, Scrub."

Gaius chuckled.

The rifle inside resembled a FAMAS G2 Félin, if everything forwards of the trigger - including the carry rail - had been extended, so that the final rifle was nearly as long as Lucy was tall. An optical scope that would appear hugely disproportionate on any other gun, but was right at home on a rifle of this size, was worked into the chassis, with a mechanism that would allow it to slide inside the weapon for concealment. The weapon fed from a single-round magazine that slid conveniently inside the weapon, and had a vertical foregrip positioned directly in front of the trigger housing. And, naturally, it was red.

"This is powered by a thermonuclear explosion, housed within a zero-point chronostorage clip contained within the magazine. The explosion is frozen at time, but when you pull the trigger, the chronolock is allowed to skip by just a millisecond, and the energy generated from the explosion is funneled with perfect efficiency - you'd need it, unless you wanted your entire armpit to get nuked - into the firing mechanism of the weapon, charging the beam, which is a plasma shot contained within a variable-spectrum gravitron field. Because thermonuclear explosions are so powerful, and you're only using a tiny percentage with each shot, this thing has functionally limitless ammo."

"What if I, uh, want to use up the whole thing?"

Gaius sighed. "Well yeah, we anticipated you'd say that. Just... just take the magazine, and put it in backwards. The rifle will explode after firing and if your target's any closer than the moon, you're dead. So don't use it."

"So I just put in backwards, right?"

~~~~

Long overlooked the site of the battle, from the safe vantage of a nearby corporate tower. The gusting winds threw the tail of his coat about his slender, stick-like legs, and the flame of his similarly thin cigarette was in danger of flickering out. He bowed his head, his circular sunglasses catching the light of the cigarette as he shielded it from the coming rain. Long was black, and extremely handsome, with a bald head and a short, silver goatee amplifying the effect of his large lips pushing upwards in some kind of wistful pout, his furrowed brow completing the image of a man who seemed to feel some regret at the life which had just been taken by the Doomwatch. He wore a narrow-fitting ash grey suit underneath a gunmetal woolen longcoat, with a silver floral tie.

"It's kind of Ironic, isn't it." he said, drawing one of his hands out of his pocket to adjust his glasses. "Most of these competitors in this tournament are individuals that could be defined as suicidal. This type of individual will get their wish granted, regardless of whether or not they win the tournament. Am I right?"

"Yes, sir."

Long turned to face his secretary; a young and attractive, but evidently nervous asian woman, dressed in a white Seifuku, with a red scarf and matching thigh-highs. She carried a clipboard laden with papers clutched to her chest, and her long black hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, which flickered behind her back in the wind. Her red eyes remained fixed on the ground before her inwardly-turned feet, too nervous to meet Long's gaze. A sheathed Katana was attached to a silk wrap tied about her waist, and the tip of the sheath drifted left and right in the growing storm. Two men lay next to her, their bodies broken and their faces battered, but still alive. They were organized thugs, in black, ill-fitting suits.

"The kind of person who betrays me must also be very suicidal."

"M-My Lord, I apologize!" screamed Breakfast, spasming on the floor. Bed tried to follow suit, but could only emit a groan from his broken mouth. Long frowned.

"How much did the Yamagata business confederacy offer you to betray Shenlong industries?"

"Two- Two million, My Lord."

"So you admit it was the Yamagata business confederacy, and not Wu Sai as you previously claimed?"

Breakfast's eyes shot opened, shocked at the foolish mistake he had made. "Y-Yes... My Lord."

Long smiled. "Akari-san."

"I understand." replied Akari Kuragari, closing her eyes. She reached up, withdrawing the pin which held her hair in place, and allowing it to fall loosely over her shoulders before being drawn up again by the wind. She slid a dainty hand over the handle of the Katana, and twisted curtly as she drew.

For a moment it appeared as if the blade had phased straight through Breakfast's neck, before a burning line of searing flesh appeared about the perimeter of his forehead, and his scalp slid off, the exposed flesh burning golden with heat. Bed was further away than the weapon was long, and gasped in relief, before a similar line appeared across his chest, and his top half and right arm slid away from his body. Both of them began to burn, before the rain cast out the flame, and four smoking masses of flesh were all that remained. Akari withdrew her blade, cleaning it against the outside of her sheath, before returning it. Her hand reached up to her hair and restored her ponytail, and her original nervous demeanor returned, as if an entire different consciousness was now inhabiting that body.

"So, Yamagata Heavy Industries wants the secret of the Mass-Production Tesseract Drive?" he said, lighting another cigarette. "Well, that's fine by me. Nails wouldn't have contracted the project to an outside agency if he had any fear that someone other than him would know how to use one. So... I'm surprised he never asked how anyone other than him knew how to build one. Wouldn't you agree, Coldheaven?"

The service elevator opened, and a grinning blonde man stepped out, a mask covering the top of his face. He wore a suit of the same style as Bed and Breakfast had worn, but perfectly fitting for his narrow figure.

"I'm sure he'd be more surprised if he knew where we salvaged the technology from." replied Liege la Coldheaven, drawing strands of long blonde hair away from his forehead. Long Shortman smiled, and he and his assistant started towards the elevator, stepping over the dead bodies.

"It was a miracle, really. Finding that mask... finding you... drifting in the cold void of space. A miracle that transformed Shenlong from a backwater computer drive manufacturer to a universe-scale hypercorporation in a matter of weeks."

Liege smiled, gesturing for Shortman and Kuragiri to enter before him. And though the mouth and smile were those of Liege la Coldheaven, oldest son of the Coldheaven family, the recovered top half of the mask and glowing orange eyes behind it belonged to no other than Malak Al-Maut himself.

"Truly. A miracle."