04-26-2018, 07:13 PM
“So,” Kuzuru spoke, “I’ve got an idea.”
The duo had been walking for the better part of an hour. Silver pinprick stars in the black curtain of night afforded a vague sense of direction to them. If the demon was the kind to enjoy a cool night under the stars this would’ve been paradise. That said Kuzuru was not the kind of demon to enjoy a night under the stars, and in fact he found them to be quite dull. Sasuke seemed to be relatively unphased by this slog, not that the demon could read his stoic expressions.
“Oh?” The shinobi said, taking the bait, “and what would that be?”
“Glad you asked,” Kuzuru said, “I’m sure it’d be a blast to go crack some heads with you I figure it might be a bit more exciting, and quicker, if we turn this into a competition.”
Sasuke thought for a moment and answered, “what did you have in mind?”
Kuzuru smiled, clapped his hands together, and answered, “one outpost each, you get the western one and I’ll go east, first one to reach the pyramid wins.”
Sasuke stopped walking and Kuzuru followed suit. Wind carried a gust of sand through them.
“Alright, I’m game,” the shinobi answered.
“Great,” Kuzuru answered, “one thing though.”
A sabre of blackened iron erupted from the demon’s forearm filling the air with a lethal hum. Starlight caught the blade’s edge and gave it a sinister gleam. The demon’s grin hid bisected behind the sword.
He paused for a moment to add dramatic flair before continuing, “you better not take too long or you might miss out on playtime with Mr. Deathchew, I tend to get a bit antsy when I have to wait for people.”
Sasuke’s eyes narrowed and he responded, “then you’ve got nothing to worry about, I won’t lose.”
“That’s the spirit,” Kuzuru said, “I’m starting to like you, Uchiha.”
--
Mauritius groaned. His perch atop the outpost’s walls was underpinned by the jovial chattering of his peers. Lit by several lanterns they were in the midst of a raucous card game, a card game that Mauritius had lost every last bit of money playing. His stomach grumbled. He didn’t even have enough left to pay for an extra portion of food from the quartermaster. To top it all off he didn’t even have enough cash to payout his loss and was forced to cover Davie’s watch to make up for the difference. Mauritius sighed. The dejected bandit raised a pair of night vision binoculars to his eyes and glassed the horizon. His eyebrows scrunched in response and he leaned forward off his lawn chair.
“Hey Davie!” He shouted, not bothering to lower the binocs.
There was no reply, the bastard was pretending not to hear him. Mauritius lowered the binoculars and looked over his shoulder. Davie was still at the poker table, apparently deep in thought with his next move. Several skags and other scumbags buzzed around the table, no doubt waiting for their chance to be dealt in.
“Davie!” Mauritius shouted again.
Davie set his cards face down, stood up with a groan, and said, “I fold… y’all are lucky Mar can’t shit without someone holding his hand, them were some killer cards.”
A lady with a metal plate bolted to her forehead scoffed and said, “whatever Davie, you had nothing.”
“You’re just jealous I whipped you last time, Dana,” Davie pointed at his stack of chips and added, “now don’t anyone go touchin’ these with their dirty dick beaters or I’ll cut ‘em off.”
With his threat stated the heavyset bandit sauntered over to the outpost’s wall and began to climb the ramshackle ladder.
“Whaddya want?” Davie asked as he reached the top.
“We got one,” he said and passed the glasses.
“So? Just plug the bastard and we’ll get him in the morning,” he answered and pushed the binoculars away.
“Just take a look,” Mar said, “doesn’t he look familiar or something.”
Davie grunted and reluctantly took a peek at the distant figure. The man approached alone and apparently unarmed. It was hard to discern any fine detail through the verdant scope of night vision, but he appeared to be ill-dressed for the desert. He wore a tank top with the word “FIGHT” emblazoned vertically across its center. Dark hair, most likely black, sat atop his head slicked back reminiscent to that of a 1950’s greaser. Most striking of all were his eyes, even through the low light filter they had a piercing gaze that made Davie shiver. The bandit studied the stranger’s face for a moment. Mauritius was right the man did look familiar, but where had he seen --
Davie snapped his finger and exclaimed, “that’s the bastard that had a thousand O.M. bounty of his head, Kuzulu I think his name was.”
“One-thousand O.M. what’d he do for that kinda price?” Mauritius asked.
Davie shrugged and said, “not sure, some Coruscant broad put it on him, the boss was planning on taking him out for the money, but the bounty was closed out not too long after it went live.”
“Uh-huh,” Mauritius said, “so what’s he doing all the way out here?”
“Dunno.”
A round of particularly rowdy cheering signalled an exciting hand of Texas Hold ‘Em.
Mauritius scowled and asked, “so what should we do?”
“Put a hole in his head and be done with it,” Davie answered as he sparked up, “he ain’t worth anything anymore so just pop him and we’ll strip the corpse in the morning.”
Mauritius nodded and pulled his chair closer to the rampart’s edge. He rested the barrel of his rifle between a notch in the sheet metal. Exhaling he pressed his cheek against the stock and activated the night vision scope with the flick of a switch. It took him a few seconds to zero in on the meandering figure. The rifle barked and kicked as he squeezed the trigger, temporarily silencing the festivities. The bullet rocketed across the sand-covered plains, reaching its mark in only a few seconds. There was a flash of light that was nothing more than a half-second spark in the sea of darkness. Davie held up the binoculars and chuckled.
“You missed,” he said.
“Bullshit,” Mauritius said, “there’s no way, I don’t miss.”
“Yeah, just like you don’t lose card games huh?”
“Fuck off,” Mauritius answered and raised the rifle again.
Another bark accompanied a muzzle flash and an ejected casing. Once again it took the bullet a few seconds to complete its journey and once again a momentary spark lit up the darkness. Davie’s jaw dropped. He slowly lowered the binoculars and mouthed ”What the fuck?” Mauritius pulled his eye away from the scope and glanced at his peer for confirmation. There was no doubt in either of their minds; the bullet had hit its mark dead center, but the demon did not stop. No, in fact, Kuzuru had practically broken into a dead sprint. Davie shook Mauritius’s shoulder and pointed at the distant blot on the horizon.
“Mar, shoot him again,” Davie commanded, “there’s no way he can just keep taking hits like that.”
Dutifully Mauritius fired again while Davie watched through the binocs. In the split second before impact Kuzuru swung his arm forward, revealing a series of black iron blades along his forearm. There was a spark as the bullet glanced off the blade’s edge and spiraled harmlessly into the sand behind him. It all happened at such a speed that Davie struggled to piece together what the hell had just happened. Despite this long-range assault Kuzuru failed to lose momentum and instead seemed to rush forward with even greater fervor. Another ineffective shot thundered across the wasteland.
“What’s going on up there Davie!?” someone shouted from below.
The card game had all but come to a complete stop as the staccato of Mar’s bolt-action filled the compound. Davie thumbed at a greasy whistle that hung from a cord around his thick neck. He inhaled and blew into the brass noisemaker. The whistle screech tore through the outpost, leaving a frenzy in its wake. War was upon them and the scrappy scumbags were more than ready to draw blood.
“We’re under attack!”
The duo had been walking for the better part of an hour. Silver pinprick stars in the black curtain of night afforded a vague sense of direction to them. If the demon was the kind to enjoy a cool night under the stars this would’ve been paradise. That said Kuzuru was not the kind of demon to enjoy a night under the stars, and in fact he found them to be quite dull. Sasuke seemed to be relatively unphased by this slog, not that the demon could read his stoic expressions.
“Oh?” The shinobi said, taking the bait, “and what would that be?”
“Glad you asked,” Kuzuru said, “I’m sure it’d be a blast to go crack some heads with you I figure it might be a bit more exciting, and quicker, if we turn this into a competition.”
Sasuke thought for a moment and answered, “what did you have in mind?”
Kuzuru smiled, clapped his hands together, and answered, “one outpost each, you get the western one and I’ll go east, first one to reach the pyramid wins.”
Sasuke stopped walking and Kuzuru followed suit. Wind carried a gust of sand through them.
“Alright, I’m game,” the shinobi answered.
“Great,” Kuzuru answered, “one thing though.”
A sabre of blackened iron erupted from the demon’s forearm filling the air with a lethal hum. Starlight caught the blade’s edge and gave it a sinister gleam. The demon’s grin hid bisected behind the sword.
He paused for a moment to add dramatic flair before continuing, “you better not take too long or you might miss out on playtime with Mr. Deathchew, I tend to get a bit antsy when I have to wait for people.”
Sasuke’s eyes narrowed and he responded, “then you’ve got nothing to worry about, I won’t lose.”
“That’s the spirit,” Kuzuru said, “I’m starting to like you, Uchiha.”
--
Mauritius groaned. His perch atop the outpost’s walls was underpinned by the jovial chattering of his peers. Lit by several lanterns they were in the midst of a raucous card game, a card game that Mauritius had lost every last bit of money playing. His stomach grumbled. He didn’t even have enough left to pay for an extra portion of food from the quartermaster. To top it all off he didn’t even have enough cash to payout his loss and was forced to cover Davie’s watch to make up for the difference. Mauritius sighed. The dejected bandit raised a pair of night vision binoculars to his eyes and glassed the horizon. His eyebrows scrunched in response and he leaned forward off his lawn chair.
“Hey Davie!” He shouted, not bothering to lower the binocs.
There was no reply, the bastard was pretending not to hear him. Mauritius lowered the binoculars and looked over his shoulder. Davie was still at the poker table, apparently deep in thought with his next move. Several skags and other scumbags buzzed around the table, no doubt waiting for their chance to be dealt in.
“Davie!” Mauritius shouted again.
Davie set his cards face down, stood up with a groan, and said, “I fold… y’all are lucky Mar can’t shit without someone holding his hand, them were some killer cards.”
A lady with a metal plate bolted to her forehead scoffed and said, “whatever Davie, you had nothing.”
“You’re just jealous I whipped you last time, Dana,” Davie pointed at his stack of chips and added, “now don’t anyone go touchin’ these with their dirty dick beaters or I’ll cut ‘em off.”
With his threat stated the heavyset bandit sauntered over to the outpost’s wall and began to climb the ramshackle ladder.
“Whaddya want?” Davie asked as he reached the top.
“We got one,” he said and passed the glasses.
“So? Just plug the bastard and we’ll get him in the morning,” he answered and pushed the binoculars away.
“Just take a look,” Mar said, “doesn’t he look familiar or something.”
Davie grunted and reluctantly took a peek at the distant figure. The man approached alone and apparently unarmed. It was hard to discern any fine detail through the verdant scope of night vision, but he appeared to be ill-dressed for the desert. He wore a tank top with the word “FIGHT” emblazoned vertically across its center. Dark hair, most likely black, sat atop his head slicked back reminiscent to that of a 1950’s greaser. Most striking of all were his eyes, even through the low light filter they had a piercing gaze that made Davie shiver. The bandit studied the stranger’s face for a moment. Mauritius was right the man did look familiar, but where had he seen --
Davie snapped his finger and exclaimed, “that’s the bastard that had a thousand O.M. bounty of his head, Kuzulu I think his name was.”
“One-thousand O.M. what’d he do for that kinda price?” Mauritius asked.
Davie shrugged and said, “not sure, some Coruscant broad put it on him, the boss was planning on taking him out for the money, but the bounty was closed out not too long after it went live.”
“Uh-huh,” Mauritius said, “so what’s he doing all the way out here?”
“Dunno.”
A round of particularly rowdy cheering signalled an exciting hand of Texas Hold ‘Em.
Mauritius scowled and asked, “so what should we do?”
“Put a hole in his head and be done with it,” Davie answered as he sparked up, “he ain’t worth anything anymore so just pop him and we’ll strip the corpse in the morning.”
Mauritius nodded and pulled his chair closer to the rampart’s edge. He rested the barrel of his rifle between a notch in the sheet metal. Exhaling he pressed his cheek against the stock and activated the night vision scope with the flick of a switch. It took him a few seconds to zero in on the meandering figure. The rifle barked and kicked as he squeezed the trigger, temporarily silencing the festivities. The bullet rocketed across the sand-covered plains, reaching its mark in only a few seconds. There was a flash of light that was nothing more than a half-second spark in the sea of darkness. Davie held up the binoculars and chuckled.
“You missed,” he said.
“Bullshit,” Mauritius said, “there’s no way, I don’t miss.”
“Yeah, just like you don’t lose card games huh?”
“Fuck off,” Mauritius answered and raised the rifle again.
Another bark accompanied a muzzle flash and an ejected casing. Once again it took the bullet a few seconds to complete its journey and once again a momentary spark lit up the darkness. Davie’s jaw dropped. He slowly lowered the binoculars and mouthed ”What the fuck?” Mauritius pulled his eye away from the scope and glanced at his peer for confirmation. There was no doubt in either of their minds; the bullet had hit its mark dead center, but the demon did not stop. No, in fact, Kuzuru had practically broken into a dead sprint. Davie shook Mauritius’s shoulder and pointed at the distant blot on the horizon.
“Mar, shoot him again,” Davie commanded, “there’s no way he can just keep taking hits like that.”
Dutifully Mauritius fired again while Davie watched through the binocs. In the split second before impact Kuzuru swung his arm forward, revealing a series of black iron blades along his forearm. There was a spark as the bullet glanced off the blade’s edge and spiraled harmlessly into the sand behind him. It all happened at such a speed that Davie struggled to piece together what the hell had just happened. Despite this long-range assault Kuzuru failed to lose momentum and instead seemed to rush forward with even greater fervor. Another ineffective shot thundered across the wasteland.
“What’s going on up there Davie!?” someone shouted from below.
The card game had all but come to a complete stop as the staccato of Mar’s bolt-action filled the compound. Davie thumbed at a greasy whistle that hung from a cord around his thick neck. He inhaled and blew into the brass noisemaker. The whistle screech tore through the outpost, leaving a frenzy in its wake. War was upon them and the scrappy scumbags were more than ready to draw blood.
“We’re under attack!”
![[Image: ZzG0TJ9.png]](http://i.imgur.com/ZzG0TJ9.png)
![[Image: AshenBladeBadge.png]](http://www.cytokineindustries.com/chevereto/images/2017/07/13/AshenBladeBadge.png)