subscription Book #1 (April Weeks 1-2) Chapter 4

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Chapter four
The Lycran Prince

“Rosh!” Vash screamed at the top of his lungs as the swordsman dragged the Fox-man under the closing security door. The gears of the door started to churn and turn as the black and copper doors began to shut on his friend and partner. Vash wasn’t going to let his entire crew die; he had to stop this he had to stop this now. With all of his strength he tried to pull the old Rajja out from under the closing door but something even stronger was pulling the other way like some kind of animal trying to hold on to its kill.
“Ahhh!” Rosh screamed as Vash saw something silver and metallic pierce the body of his dying friend. “No! Rosh!” Vash hollered again trying to desperately claw his friend out of the swordsman’s reach but it was no use. Rosh his companion and long time mentor was going to die and Vash was as well, he was going to be slaughtered by this monster this mad swordsman no matter what he did but he was not going to give up without a fight, Vash would take the swordsman with him into hell if her could.
As the sword pierced his friend Vash knew it was fatal blow, and Rosh did as well. Rosh knew he was going to die soon, he could feel Marduk’s cold touch on him every day for this past week, no wonder Rosh wanted this to be his last job and then retire, he could sense some of this fate off in a far distant future of the end of the old Fox’s life. He spook one final sentence to the outlaw before the blackness took him completely, “Vash we’ve been set up, it was the Skavin crime-lord’s Son that’s who funded the project. Aves betrayed us, he made the connection anonymous it was him; he did it, he tipped of f the Sovereign Police and made this place go into lockdown. Vash you have to…you have to save my...Family….”
Then Rosh his long time friend, and companion was as dead as a doornail and Vash knew then that like so many times in his short life he was once again totally alone. Everything had been taken from him before and it had been taken from him now, he would get justice he would get revenge, but that was all secondary goal now all he had to do now like so many times before was use his wit and street smarts to survive this deadly swordsman.
And just like that his whole team was dead and his was alone to face whatever monster or man was going to come for him next he would have cried but no tears came out he had lost that ability long ago as the security door and the copper gears locked him into the museum room the door crushed Rosh’s hand and left only a protruding limb of his former friend and they were all gone.
Vash could not believe this, everyone was gone; he and that traitor Aves were the only ones of the Desperados left. He had no one else in the entire world, and now he was alone. Rage filled him as he realized how they had been used and abused their contact was the son of the same Skavin they had killed who kidnapped Rosh’s daughter and Aves had black mailed them to the Skavin crime lord for prophet he had tipped off the police that they were here and they had forced a lock down in the museum because of that.
But there was something else to this who was this warrior killing them? Was he an enforcer of the crime lord? Was he a free agent looking for the same piece? Or was he just after a good killing spree. It didn’t matter now Vash knew it was not Scythe who had killed his friends it was someone else. But what did that mean? Vash’s thoughts and emotions were raging inside of him as more and more questions seemed to surface. He was almost lost in a cloudy sea of grief and mourning at that point.
But Scythe was there, the Arsenal terrorists were on the roof of the museum and in full numbers as well cutting down the police that were supposed to be apprehending his group for their crimes, but now were in full combat with the terrorists syndicate. None of this made sense, why was scythe after the Stature or whatever he was after? Who was the mysterious warrior assaulting them? None of it mattered any more, questions could be saved for another time all he had to do now was survive.
He had to get out of this alive to save Rosh’s family and get his revenge he just had to survive this one encounter with a warrior that was above and beyond his skills as a fighter. Vash was in survival mode now, something he was best at, there was no running, and he was locked in the museum chamber with the statue his fallen group was supposed to steal. Sirens blazed over loudspeakers and they cast light that was the color of blood like some grim warning of danger and death. Everything else was total and complete darkness.
There were no other options, Vash had to succeed where his friends had failed he had to conquer this being who had slaughtered trained hardened mercenaries like it was feast day dinner. He had to live to carry on their legacy to avenge his fallen friends. Vash checked his Shotgun-blade it was full of scatter shot and as sharp as ever, he checked his explosive devices and they were ready. Vash took out his magical incarnum pistols ready to shoot out blazing magical lighting and they were in good order. He was ready to fight, he was ready to kill; but most of all he was ready to die.
Suddenly through the air vents his two comrades died in plopped a shadowy figure who’s only outline was a sanguine film of a shadow framed by glowing yellow yes he slouched down as if he were made of shadows or invisible by some form of magic. Vash prepared for the worst and stared at death straight on unafraid yet his heart was fluttering in his chest like a war drum. There was no escape, he had to fight.
The warrior pierced the shadows as if he was cloaked and covered in them and appeared as a pail-faced long black haired warrior dressed in ancient black samurai armor that had seen millennium pass by. The warrior slowly drew a katana and pressed it to his neck as if the warrior was going to decapitate him, Vash closed his eyes ready for death ready to have his head severed from his body. He accepted death as he accepted every day of his life as a limited thing that could end and any time in his dangerous life. But suddenly the warrior hesitated, the deadly stoke stopped just short of cutting off his head and pressed into the rough stubble of his face.
“You show no fear…” The long black-haired warrior commented in surprise and almost respect, as if Vash had suddenly been promoted in status from an animal to a sentient being. As if the fear of death was the only real reason the warrior slaughtered his comrades. He had slaughtered them because they felt fear at the moment of death? What was this creature before him? He slaughtered them mindlessly and yet he was lifted up in status just because he was willing to die in some kind of dishonor his companions displayed in their deaths.
Vash could fell the bite of the katana cutting into his flesh; the warrior was just touching his neck with the sword but in felt like he was going to chop his head off with just the sharpness of the sword alone. The sword was extremely sharp extremely well made; it must have been ancient and crafted by some kind of master sword make or even a god itself. It had strange hieroglyphic markings on the blade that Vash had never seen before, who was this man? Vash stared the warrior in his yellow wolf-like eyes not backing down one bit, “I’m not afraid of death.”
“Why?” The warrior asked as if the statement was an invitation for some kind of warrior’s philosophical discussion. It was a strange question he asked, the warrior truly wanted to know the answer to the question. He was so emotional so cold did he even realize he had just killed his friends, did he even care; Vash doubted that with extreme prejudice. He wanted to know the answer as if he did not know why a lowly mortal being would not fear death, as if animals (humans included) went to some kind of hellish afterlife and only true warriors entered heaven.
It was a true accusation for a man who casually but aside death like a sentient being would just put aside swatting a fly and then go about their business. He had just killed all the family he had known and now he wanted to discuss the philosophy of how death and the warrior’s spirit were cosmically linked. What lich spawn he didn’t even care; Vash supposed he was incapable of caring who he killed. He looked at him with haltered and looked deeply into his eyes he was a warrior and Vash wanted him to know it; or he’d be slaughtered too, “Because I’m already dead…”
That statement of the acknowledged futility of clinging to life, to live only to do battle and die for a single dishonor that he was already dead because all warriors should not fear death or not be worthy to live seemed to put Vash in the warriors good graces. The black-haired warrior sheathed his element and deadly katana into its gold and black lacquer satisfied by the knowledge that he was an equal to the Lycran at least on some level, “Then we are all warriors, I am Prince Red-moon son of Emperor White-Fang of the Lycran Empire of Hagakure.”
Suddenly that made total sense, Vash now knew exactly who and what this magnificent and deadly warrior truly was: He was a Lycran one of the deadly warriors and assassins of the black moon. He was one of the elemental Elder races of the element of fire who have existed since before mortals came to Phoenix Star. They were immortal beings left over from the first age and the terrible war that nearly destroyed all of Lore. And he was the Lycran Prince! He was no one to be trifled with he was deadlier than an elder red dragon, “What?!” Vash asked in confusion at the warrior s sudden change of heart.
“It is common courtesy to introduce oneself before a battle even among enemies. I am sorry for your friends they were in my way.” What the hell was that supposed to mean? He sounded like he just discarded a handkerchief and not kill five people. Did he even care a single bit? No he didn’t Vash knew the ancient legends were true now: Lycrans were a group of mystical warriors who shunned and suppressed all emotions. To them ones who clung to emotion were less than animals.
Vash tried not to let one touch of his hate or his raw malice escape his face he would see it and his normally unemotional state just might be the only thing keeping the Lycran from decapitating him right there. Vash had to proceed carefully or he would end up dead he had to ask him directly why he was here because as far as he knew of Lycran honor it had to be some reason but that reason could be anything in his own immortal mind. “In the way of what Red-moon, why are you really here?”
“I want the shard of the Philosophers Sword imbedded in this statue that is all I want I want the shard of the sword, and when I have it my mission will be complete you does not concern me warrior without fear. If you excuse me I will take it and leave, our conversation has been very pleasant, thank you.” The warrior went for the statue on display in the middle of the room and reached out to grasp it.
Vash then did something he knew he was going to regret later, he called the warrior out. Vash’s friends died for that hunk of stone and whatever the ‘philosopher’s sword’ was that the Lycran so desperately wanted. He had a mission to complete and he needed the statue to avenge his friends. He pulled out his magical pistols and fired at the grasping hand and the green-lighting like bolt hit it dead on. It burned him and made a scorch mark but the immortal Lycran showed no sign of pain or that it even grazed him. “I don’t think so Mr. Moon I’ll be taking that and I don’t care if you kill me for it I’m leaving with that useless hunk of metal and stone my friends died over.”
“So be it,” as all the legends said the infamous Lycran speed was unearthly and extremely deadly in single combat. Red-Moon moved a blinding speed so fast that Vash’s incarnum bolts just hit thin air. Vash shot at him but the warrior zig-zaged out of the way with impossible speed that was so fast Vash could not even see him move. Suddenly tow shuriken like objects were thrown into his path that Vash barley missed as he dodges and started to run throughout the museum.
Moore shuriken started to fly towards him like a hail storm of black star-like darts he ran to avoid them and to avoid two he leapt up and twisted his entire body but the blades of the shurikin cut his jacket chest and back. He fell to the ground in pain and Red moon was right there to greet him. As he was about to shot the Lycran slapped away his pistols and grabbed on to his hand in a grip that was like a vice-crab’s stranglehold. Red-Moon stared down at him without pity or remorse, “It is over you have been defeated accept honor in death in battle.”
“Yeah you’re good, you know that I’m done; but you forgot just one thing…” Vash dropped an explosive charge that hummed to life as the suppressed Lycran let go of his titan-like grip on the outlaws arm. In a split second of confusion Vash to the opportunity and grabbed the stature and leaped out of the window in a sudden burst of survival instinct and adrenaline. Vash broke the window and fell out of the skyscraper in one last attempt to survive. And with the statue in hand falling with a thousand pieces of shattered glass the explosion thundered in the museum and as he fell out of the skyscraper he hit something hard and everything faded to black as he was knocked out by the sudden bone shattering impact.