Ignition 2084

By Jordan Hampton

Repulsor boots and bulletproof cloaks. Heat-treated chains on their wrists attached to diamond-shaped titanium blades. The Reikiken, a heated sword made of tungsten that can cut or burn through almost anything.

The year is 2084, and the Hanzo Gear's done a lot to level the playing field against Kingdom Scarlet in the last 38 years. After t

• Language: English
• Publisher: DeWayne Jordan Hampton
• Release date: Jun 10, 2022
• ISBN: 9798985834611

Book preview

Prologue

The conflict started in the year 2001, where a group of rogues attacked high priority targets in the old New York City and sent the world into a state of paranoia and mutual hostility. Even in that era of persistent (and predominantly pointless) struggle, there was a degree of peace in the day-to-day ongoings of the people. Fifteen years after that first attack and in the wake of hundreds more like it all around the country, the Dawn King rose. A master of the public eye, he preyed on the fears of the common folk to get elected to the highest office in the country, and with his questionable decisions and lack of morals he manipulated the masses to violently turn on each other.

All-out war swept the populace by 2021, and the democracy that put the tyrant in power was upended in the chaos. The United States of America, the country that this man once ruled, shattered to dust. The police and military turned on the people they swore to protect, and men and women were imprisoned for speaking out against their oppressive conditions. Riots broke out as outrage grew against a government that once boasted for the people by the people, and before long, the first public execution in the post-Jim Crow era was broadcasted live to every home and business. Bombs were dropped in cities and neighborhoods that were suspected of opposition to the Tyrant and his forces. Martial law was enacted. Homes were raided in search of contraband or potential threats, and under the slightest suspicion of treason, parents were forced to watch as their children were brutally killed in front of them before ultimately dying themselves.

America was dead, and in its place arose a marred wasteland known as Prevalence. Here, a number of factions continue to engage in volatile confrontation. The major Territories of economic interest and tactical advantage were united under the leadership of the Tyrant’s followers and reorganized as Kingdom Scarlet. The surrounding ghettos, dominated by the ruins of American life, were occupied by the Yaiba Insurrection, the Kabuto Sanctuary, and the Yoroi Alliance, all born of the many marginalized peoples who refused to bow to the autocratic regime of the Kingdom.

***********************************

July 19th, 2046

Sir, we have confirmation that the terrorists are hiding out in the abandoned bunker of the old White House building, Major Simon spoke into his headset as his forces advanced on the structure. Left and right squads moved to flank the eastern and western wings of the ruins respectively with teams of three armed gunmen branching off from each one to cover the main exits. The frontmost unit, led by the Major himself, held their position. Proceeding as instructed.

Excellent, General Osmond responded with a smirk on his lips as he waited from the comforts of the command center. They’ll be trapped like rats, and I’m sure the King will reward us for snuffing out the biggest thorn in his side since the Charlottesville Massacre.

Wait, Major Simon, sir, we’re picking up three thermal signatures on our scanners, said Lieutenant Kluger of the right flank. His entire squad came to a halt, and through their visors they watched as the lifeless remnants of the old capitol building glowed with an almost impossible intensity.

So what, General Osmond interjected before Simon could proceed with his orders to hold. We’ve spent months compiling intel that led us to this moment, and years cutting through the Yaiba Insurrection’s support systems. These cowering dogs have run out of places to hide and don’t have enough men to save themselves, and you’re freezing because the scanners in your visors are picking up a few heat sigs?

But sir—, Kluger interjected, but was promptly cut off by his superior.

But nothing, yelled the General, which made the Major grimace as he cut his eyes at the headset in his ear. We didn’t go through all of that trouble just so you and your little fears could compromise our operation. Proceed as instructed, Lieutenant, and that’s an order! The comms channel went silent, and Major Simon couldn’t help but think of how much he hated it when alien commanders disregarded the concerns of his men.

He refocused on the field and switched on the heat vision function of his visor just in time to see three blazing humanoid figures emerge from the broken spaces in the White House walls. Each of the three took to a position that faced one of the three military units, and in their hands they held what looked like swords with heat readings much higher than what their natural bodies could produce.

What are those? Kluger asked through the communication channel.

It doesn’t matter, said the Major. Snipers, you’re up.

Understood, confirmed Sergeant Crawford from a rooftop across Executive Avenue. The spotter on his left passed him his readings, and based on the number of targets, distance, angle, and direction of the breeze, the sniper took aim at the first of his three targets. The scope of his Barrett M82 couldn’t pick up the heat signature of his targets, but the gear they wore was of special interest to him. He mused that he might pull it from the bodies after he took his shot.

************************************

They could hear the Scarlet Troopers from off in the distance as they approached the old presidential estate. After they had done everything they could to lay low and buy time, they were cornered yet again, but this time without the manpower or resources to carve out an escape. There were no guns on the Yaiba side of things, not since the old government confiscated the public’s firearms and shut down manufacturers across the country. They reasoned that the availability of weaponry would enable rebellion. Little did they know that rebellion was coming either way, and the weapons they did have were beyond the expectations of the Scarlets and the Yaibas alike.

Looks like it’s time, came the voice of Director Ishikawa through the Yaiba headsets. The field test of Dr. Masamune’s Hanzo Gear is about to begin. Enable geo-sensors.

Geo-sensors engaged, confirmed Carson Rouge, the team leader. Awaiting further instructions. The director remained silent for a moment, and the footsteps of the Scarlet Troopers became a deafening induction of anxiety and apprehension. The comm came back to life.

Three squads are advancing on your position from the north, east and west. A sniper team has taken up a post on the building to the east.

Number of hostiles?

By my count, thirty-five, Ishikawa confirmed. Prep kyoketsu-shoge for deployment, and power up repulsor boots.

You know, interjected Dre Hamlin, the field tester poised at the northernmost wall of the White House, if this stuff doesn’t work, it’ll be the end of the Yaiba Insurrection.

We can’t afford to think like that, Rairyu, replied the third member of their makeshift team, Lukas Bautista. Dre chuckled. It truly baffled him how Bautista could sound so optimistic when certain death was on its way to meet them. There’s always a chance, just as long as we—

What, believe in the heart of the— Dre started to joke, but was cut off by a stern faux cough from the Director. Apologies, Director. Awaiting your orders, sir.

Masks up, Ishikawa commanded, initiate heating sequence and move into position.

Acknowledged, said Carson, who then turned his attention to his two teammates. Rairyu, there’s an addendum to your part of the mission. The sniper cell has eyes on our intended locations and is perched on a rooftop across Executive Avenue.

You want me to find my way up to him and take him out before he has a chance to put one between your eyes, right, Dre supposed.

It’d be a huge help, brotha, Lukas whimsically answered, already crouched behind the front door to the north side.

Sure, Dre said with a sigh as he exited through a hole in the east side of the White House wall. You know, I’m not sure how I like being teamed up with you guys. It seems like I’m already doing all the heavy lifting.

Just make sure that you don’t get shot yourself, Carson cracked back as he took to the west.

Enough with the chatter, the Director ordered. Geo-sensors are showing that the enemy has stopped. Seems like they picked up the abnormal heat signatures. Time to engage. Move into the open. The three field agents held for a moment and listened for the oncoming footsteps of the enemy, but just as their superior had said, the Scarlet Troopers held their positions.

I guess we’ll have to take the fight to them, Lukas optimistically chimed.

Oh joy, Dre uttered with dripping sarcasm.

From here on out I’ll be directing each of you. This is gonna be tough for all of us, so you’ll have to listen for my cues and follow my instructions to the letter. Ishikawa’s voice gave his subordinates no room for question or comment. They all merely watched their enemies through the cracks in their sections of the wall. Rairyu, geo-sensors are picking up minimal pulses from the treasury building to your right. The sniper team is preparing to engage. Make your way towards Executive Ave and deploy the kyoketsu-shoge to increase mobility. Boost that and your speed with short bursts from your repulsors and change directions as often as you can. The eastern squad is sure to follow you since they couldn’t close you in before you noticed.

At the Director’s orders, Dre made his move. He started towards the eleven troops of the eastern flank, but just before they could turn their weapons on him, he launched the bladed chains on the sleeves of his cloak at the ground. He vaulted into the air and flipped so that his feet pointed towards the west. As the troops below him took aim, Rairyu’s repulsors came to life and blasted him at a diagonal towards the treasury building.

************************************

What are they, asked the sniper as he did his best to track the movements of the target closest to him. His spotter called out a plethora of positions to him, but none of them lasted. The moment the sniper committed to any one placement of his weapon, his adversary dodged in seemingly impossible fashion. He fired a couple of shots, but all he managed to hit were the troops in his own platoon below. Now only six of the eleven eastern squad members remained, and this oddity of a warrior gradually advanced on his position.

Woohoo! The shout of his overly whimsical adversary was almost as humorous as it was aggravating. The sniper fired again, this time with the assurance that he’d nailed his opponent with that one bullet, but then the unexpected happened. The rogue whipped the sword in his hand in a diagonal motion, and the bullet melted before it ever made contact. What was worse, the rounds that should have at least found their way through his enemy’s flesh merely bounced off the cloak and mask that captured his attention mere moments ago.

Incoming, cried the spotter as he abandoned his rangefinder and sprinted for the other side of the rooftop. The sniper followed suit, and together they watched as the masked assailant drove the blade at the end of his chain clean through the sniper’s Barrett. The chain pulled his body to the rooftop, and the Insurrectionist landed in a crouched position with his sword held off to the side. The sniper eyed it as he took a step back. It was a smoldering orange, as if the man had snatched it fresh from a forge before entering the fray, but it was unlike any blade he’d ever seen before. It was round, save for the tip, and from what the sniper could tell, the hilt was curved almost in the same fashion as an old pistol from the 1800s.

Looks like you terrorists have come a long way, said the shooter, but do you really believe that three people with some fancy toys are enough to take down a group of thirty-five trained soldiers?

Terrorists, he says, the assailant scoffed with a humored glance at the spotter. You know, we weren’t the ones who savagely beat the weak into submission and manipulated their fear to gain power.

No, you’re just doing everything you can to disrupt the peace of the Scarlet Kingdom, spat the spotter. The assailant glared at him and the sniper by his side carefully reached for the pistol holstered behind his back.

I didn’t come here to debate which of us is right or wrong, the attacker retorted with a sigh. "That’d be more of an uphill battle than climbing this building was. But let me just ask you, what if it were you?"

What do you mean?

"What if you grew up in the dimming lights of a society that already thought the worst of you because you were born dark-skinned like me? What if you watched as your loyalist parents were murdered in cold blood alongside your siblings because of the suspicion of treason? What if you had to spend every single day of your life on the run because injustice found you and you resisted?" The heart of the gunman pounded as he listened to the warrior’s line of questions, and for a moment—just a moment—he thought to go against his task. The heat that radiated from the strange man’s sword heightened, and the air around the sniper cell began to swelter.

The only justice is what the Scarlet Kingdom decides! The sniper looked to the spotter, who had brandished a pistol of his own and opened fire on his target. The mysterious Insurrectionist spun his heat-sword around his body as he seemingly danced across the platform. The heat became unbearable, to the point where the air ignited with each robust swing. All of the bullets volleyed in his direction melted, and before long so did those that rested in the chamber of the spotter’s pistol. Once the threat of the firearms had been neutralized, the Yaiba operative threw out his arm and the blade that guided his multitalented chains found its way into the throat of the spotter.

See, I don’t think that’s right, said the swordsman. Justice isn’t defined by a nation or an ideology. It’s defined by the ability to obtain what one deserves. That’s just my opinion anyway.

I surrender, uttered the sniper with an urgency that was so uncharacteristic of a Scarlet. The remaining six members of the squad managed to reach their position from the old stairwell to the rear, and as they filed through the door, they trained the muzzles of their M16s on their enemy.

You misunderstand, came the assailant. I’m not here to negotiate either. Without another word, the swordsman tossed a chained blade into the heart of one of the opposing troops and drew them in closer. The other soldiers opened fire, but the body of their comrade served as protection to the Insurrectionist. He charged them boldly, and when he neared the enemy line, he tossed the corpse of his human shield onto the nearest soldier and whipped his chain back into his gauntlet, though not without a decapitation on the way. Gunshots fired as another of the troops shot at him, but he moved around the beheaded soldier in time enough to avoid the bullets.

He slashed his blazing sword and burned through the legs of the shooter as he propelled the chain on the opposite arm into another soldier’s forehead. His eyes met those of the last newcomer, who stood before him atremble. The swordsman looked him over. He was a green-eyed boy of about eighteen, pale skin, shaky hands, and from the hesitation he showed, he was nothing like his fallen comrades.

Why are you here, asked the bladeworker. The boy stuttered, and though he gave his best intimidating glare at the obvious enemy, he was little more than a mouse before a lion and he knew it. The swordsman momentarily switched off his headset. Get out of here. Drop your headset and move southeast from here. There should be an old mall somewhere in that area. Change out of that awful blood-colored camouflage uniform and into something less conspicuous. Get out of town as soon as you can and head westward towards California. There’s a man in the Yoroi Alliance territory by the name of Eric Gallion. Tell him Rairyu sent you and that you need passage to the Kabuto Sanctuary. The boy’s eyes widened, and he moved to thank the swordsman for his kindness but the latter held up his hand. Get out of here before I change my mind. The boy nodded, and in the next instance he was gone.

The Yaiba operative turned to face the lone Scarlet sniper, and lifted the burning sword as he prepared to strike.

Wait, called the sniper, and so Rairyu complied. Why’d you let that soldier go?

He was just a kid. I’ve fought this long because I needed to. The same rules don’t apply to him, spoke the swordsman.

That’s… the sniper was at a loss for words. He’d been taught that these Yaiba Insurrectionists were cold and ruthless, and that ideas such as mercy were beyond their reach. But the man before him, though he had cut down all of the men in the easternmost squad, spared a teenager fighting in a war in which he had no business being. You’re kinder than I expected.

To be fair, you never expected much of us, the Insurrectionist shot back. He looked into the sniper’s eyes, and he breathed a heavy sigh. You gonna tell anyone? The sniper shook his head and raised his hands. Then leave. If you come looking for us again, I’ll kill you before you can speak a word.

Understood. With nothing more to be said, the sniper kept his promise and made his way back through the falling buildings of a ruined Washington, DC to the extraction point. Rairyu, however, switched his headset back on and strode back to the edge of the treasury rooftop.

Rairyu, come in, the Director spoke. Is everything alright?

Yeah, he responded. Just had to fix a malfunction.

*************************************

Ishikawa gave his orders with a degree of calm confidence that made the three field testers feel at ease in the midst of the hostility. Lukas, though he couldn’t see into the east garden room where he knew Dre to be, glanced in that direction as if to gauge what his teammate was thinking. He had his directive, but Lukas wondered if the Lightning Dragon of the Yaiba Insurrection would be able to handle the squad and sniper team alike. The Director continued to delegate roles to the remaining teammates.

Suiryu he called to Carson, occupy the attention of the enemy squad to the west. The path between the ruins of the Eisenhower Executive Offices and the west lobby wing of the White House should be sturdy enough for you to use your Hanzo Gear with the same mobility as Rairyu would on the east side. You actually have an advantage. The office building is closer to the west wing of the ruins than the treasury is to the garden room, so you have a little more to grapple onto. In the event that you need extra cover, the geo-sensors have picked up a reading of an active water main protruding from the ground just fifty feet southwest of the west wing entrance. Use your Reikiken to cut through it.

Yes, sir, Carson acknowledged. Moving to engage on your order.

Oh, and one more thing, Ishikawa added. Be careful to regulate the heat of the blade when you cut through that pipe.

************************************

East Squad is almost down half its members, one of the grunts in the Scarlet command center reported to General Osmond, who slammed his fist on the monitor board in front of him.

Is that the enemy’s doing? The General asked the question in such a draconic growl that it made the busy room of thirty men visibly tense.

The working street cameras in the DC area show that it… the grunt paused, much to the ire of the General.

Spit it out, the leader barked, and to the mass of scientists and soldiers around him felt shockwaves rattle through their bodies.

Our men were taken out by shots fired from our own sniper, the grunt stated with as much calm as he could manage. For a moment, Osmond looked as if his head would explode from the news, but to everyone’s surprise he remembered that he wasn’t there merely to bark orders and get angry. He was one of the Scarlet Kingdom’s best tactical minds, and now was the best time for him to tap into that strategic thinking.

I need visuals on the entire battlefield. Sergeant Williams, bring up field monitors Bravo and Charlie. Focus in on the enemy and… what is that gear? General Osmond watched as the easternmost target vaulted into the air with chains, and evaded shots by changing his trajectory in mid-flight with what seemed like repulsors in his boots. His eyes widened when the terrorist swung what looked like a bright red sword at oncoming bullets and melted them without ever making contact. The ground troops had the man cornered on the same rooftop as the sniper, and with a breath of relief, the General ordered that focus shift to West Squad.

************************************

Don’t let him get away, Lieutenant Kluger ordered his subordinates as the cloaked figure with the burning sword led them southwest of the west wing’s main entrance. He came to an exposed water main surrounded by damaged cars and fragments of the Vice President’s Ceremonial Office. There was nowhere for him to run, and with an eerie calm, the terrorist turned to face the firing squad. For your crimes against His Majesty the King and the esteemed Scarlet Kingdom, we hereby sentence you to immediate execution. Have you any last words?

What, no trial? The hooded man’s sarcasm was enough to make the Lieutenant brandish an overconfident smile. He stepped closer, moved through his ten soldiers to stand between the muzzles of their firearms, and it was then that the Insurrectionist recognized him. There was a notable change in the trapped rat’s eyes that made Kluger savor the moment even more. He never did understand why the anguish of his enemies proved so potent a drug to him, but it was inconsequential. You… was all the man said, but the fresh anger in his tone sent a pulse of joy through Kluger’s heart.

Do I know you, the Lieutenant started, but then held up his hand before his enemy could speak further. On second thought, I don’t care. Men, take aim… The sound of thunder pierced their eardrums, and water dropped before them. The more the rain met the heat of the Yaiba operative’s unusual sword, the more the falling water turned into floating steam. The Lieutenant watched with humored grin as the trapped rat slashed the blade aimlessly through the downpour. The water vapor permeated the air, and with every spin and slash of the firesword, it grew thicker. The Scarlet soldiers were all but blinded by the fog that now surrounded them, save for the dimming glimmer of the enemy’s glowing weapon.

Lieutenant Kluger, came General Osmond’s voice through his headset, Quit wasting time and kill him. Now! Without any further hesitation, the West Squad Captain gave the order to open fire, and a barrage of bullets pelted the direction in which the target had last been sighted.

Hold fire! Lieutenant Kluger moved forward to investigate the corpse, only to find that against the wall of automobiles and debris there wasn’t one. Horror took his face as the air grew still. "There’s nothing here! I want that terrorist found now!" The troops at his back were filled with dread. How could they miss? How could their quarry escape? He had cornered himself, trapped himself between the proverbial rock and hard place that limited his options to simply being smashed. The sound of silence was unbearable, and each of the ten men, planted firmly in their positions, kept a vigilant watch of all sides.

Their nervous pivots and turns generated the sound of boots to the ground that otherwise masked the terrorist’s steps. He dropped the blade of his kyoketsu-shoge just enough so that the chain would dangle silently at his side. A Scarlet Trooper turned to face him, but before he could call to his comrades, the rat slit his throat with the chained blade and bisected him with one swift turning motion. His body came full circle, and he slashed the muzzle of his next enemy’s firearm before he brought the fire blade back around and, ultimately, right through his opponent. There was a scream this time, and the remaining soldiers took aim and fired at the spot from which it came. The attacker had used his repulsors to vault into the air, and with his chained blade he quickly pierced the skull of one of his enemies.

Three Scarlets down, eight left before he could advance on their commanding officer with no interruptions. The master of stealth landed in the middle of the line, now, and with fiery blade swept through the midsection of one and the head of another in a single, graceful motion. Five down. The two troops on either side of the freshest kills took notice of him, but before they could even train their guns on him the silent stalker launched both of his kyoketsu-shoge into their hearts and violently ripped the blades back out. Seven down. The kill count increased, as did the rate of the neo-ninja’s heart as he realized that finally, FINALLY, he could make Kluger suffer.

Kluger was mortified. The control that he thought he had over the situation slipped through his grasp in the blink of an eye. His men were being murdered by a man that merely gave the impression of being trapped, but the Scarlets themselves were the ones lured into the trap. Now, their enemy was cloaked and only telegraphed his position with the screams of the Lieutenant’s comrades or the chilling rattle of flying chains.

Fall back, he commanded to any troops that remained, though his voice was too shaky to warrant any notice. Fall back! We’ve been lured into his trap! Escape the mist and open fire! His three remaining subordinates did their best to adhere to the order that had been given, but two of them were pierced through the chest from up above by twin chained blades. The third had been pounced upon and split down the middle. As his halves collapsed to the ground, the merciless warrior turned his focus back to the heart of the mist, where his true enemy stood. You’re quite the monster, I hope you know. Your manner of warfare is reminiscent of the horror movies of old.

Nah, this isn’t horror, corrected the chain master. But I’ll teach it to you.

I see now, the Lieutenant cooed. Carson Rouge; it’s been such a long time! Tell me, his voice became darker now as twisted humor seeped into his eyes. How’s the wife? There were no words now, just gun shots and sizzling rain as the adversaries clashed. The Lieutenant rolled out of the way of an incoming blade attack, and shot the second kyoketsu-shoge off to the side. The steel of the weapon shattered under the force of the bullet, which drastically improved his chances of survival. He trained his crosshairs on his opponent and shot round after round at him, but the heatwave generated by his unusual sword distorted the bullets in mid-flight and made them far less aerodynamic. The studs fell to the ground, and the swordsman charged. He pushed off the ground with the remaining chain, and when the Lieutenant took his shot, the chain master used his repulsors to quickly change directions. He launched the serpentine weapon at his opponent’s back as the Insurrectionist flew, but the Lieutenant turned and slapped the blade aside with the butt of his rifle. Two shots were fired into the air, but with another mist-generating swing of the blazing sword they melted like the others before them. Carson used the repulsors to right his position and returned to the ground. He smiled.

That all you got?

No, Kluger happily replied. This is. The troops from the Center Squad could be heard approaching from the north. They halted, just as the previous squad had, but the Major that commanded them wasn’t foolish enough to wander into Carson’s cloud of smoke and mist. He was cornered, outgunned, and with his best card played, he had no choice but to stay on his guard.

***********************************

Kazeryu, once Suiryu and Rairyu have created your opening, head south from your position to lure the northernmost enemy squad into the White Ruins. Use your kyoketsu-shoge to take a vantage point and start picking them off from the shadows. That was the order that Director Ishikawa gave to Lukas at the start of the field test, but his attempt to lure the northern squad into the White House ruins had failed. He waited for them to enter, but they never came, and with radio silence from Dre and Carson, he knew that something had gone terribly wrong.

Lukas, who had always been the most upbeat person in the room (even on the battlefield), suddenly adopted a grave expression. He activated the communications channel to the Director. There was static at first, but eventually he got through to the other side. His heart pounded as fear swept his mind. The mission should have been over by now. The only variable was the sniper to the east that nobody had accounted for, so why was the op taking so long?

Sir, something isn’t right here. I did as ordered and tried to lure the North Squad into the ruins but they didn’t take the bait, Lukas reported. The director hummed as he checked the readings of the geo-scanners.

North Squad is moving southwest on Suiryu’s position, Ishikawa explained with an air of frustration. A single enemy is fending off his assault. As long as this troop has him locked up, the incoming force will have an advantage.

You don’t think that they’ll kill one of their own just to take one of us down, do you? The urgency in Lukas’ voice was met with uncomfortable silence.

The way the Scarlets operate, they’ll try to exterminate us all by any means necessary. In any case they’ve given us a wonderful opportunity for a makeshift pincer attack. Kazeryu, exit the ruins and follow the enemy squad.

Yes, sir. The order had been given, and with great haste, Lukas pulled himself up to the roof through the use of his kyoketsu-shoge. He landed silently at the corner of the rain-soaked platform and saw as the last three troops of the squad of eleven turned the western corner. Lukas repulsed himself from the roof and used the blade-chain to pull himself down to the ground. He quickly gave chase to the enemy squad, and did his best not to slip in the mud and grass. He turned the corner, but it was too late. The enemy surrounded Carson and carefully trained their weapons on him. The kyoketsu-shoge weren’t fast or agile enough to take out twelve enemies at once, and his Reikiken wasn’t suited for long-range combat.

The Lieutenant, the Major, and the remaining Scarlet soldiers drove Carson back against the wall of ruined vehicles and fractured stone structure. Lukas trembled. He had to do something. He had to move! Or else those filthy Scarlets would kill his friend and, just as bad, take the Hanzo Gear prototype back with them to the Kingdom. He looked at his friend’s face, and noticed that Carson’s eyes were locked on him. Carson pulled his mask down so that his lips were in clear view. Lukas watched him for a moment longer, but with tears in his eyes he turned his back on his friend.

Carson surveyed the expressions on the faces of his enemies, and as his eyes shifted from person to person he caught sight of Lukas in the distance. He glanced to his left, and noticed that the exposed water main spouted cold water back into the hole from which the pipe had come. The blade in his hand rested at 3,677℉, and was more than hot enough to melt the lead tube with little resistance. He looked back at his friend in the distance, steeled himself, and lowered his mask.

Run, Lukas, was all he said. When Lukas turned his back to the scene, Carson drove his Reikiken through the lead and into the water. The rapid heating of the cool water created a hydrogen explosion that was only amplified by the now-failed power cells in Carson’s repulsors.

Dre dropped to his knees amid the bodies on the treasury rooftop. The cold rain could do little to cool his rapidly heating face. Tears welled up in his eyes as he screamed profanities at the clouds and pounded his fists against the concrete beneath him. The west wing was gone, and all that remained of his friends was the crater left by the blast.

Suiryu, Kazeryu, he called through his headset. There was an uncharacteristic desperation in his voice, and no answer on the line. Come in, Suiryu. What’s your status? Still nothing. Kazeryu, he yelled into the microphone. It was all he could do to keep their names a secret in case he was being watched. Kazeryu, tell me you— he choked, and scrambled to the edge of the rooftop, —tell me you have eyes on Suiryu. Again he was met with silence. The only sound he heard was the steady beat of rainwater against the remnants of DC. He surveyed the White House grounds for any piece of his teammates, and then he saw just beneath the rubble a Reikiken clutched tightly in the tan hand he knew belonged to Lukas.

He deployed his weapons and launched himself from the treasury building. He kicked the air to either side as he made his descent to the patchy lawn of the once glorious presidential residence, and sprinted for the pile of fallen brick and damaged metal. He hastily started to dig into the debris, hoping against hope that there was something left of his friend to salvage.

He reached the bottom, and the way he found Lukas churned his stomach. The heavy fragments of the building beside him crushed his head flat. His left eye was open, but his right was half-shut. There was a dent in his chest that hadn’t been there before, and everything below the waist had been burned up in the blast. His own repulsors were probably to blame.

Rairyu, came the voice of Director Ishikawa, much gentler than Dre had ever heard it. I’m sorry, but it’s time to go. Without a word, Dre pried the Reikiken from his comrade’s petrified grasp, and made his way for the bunker, utterly defeated in his moment of victory.

Chapter One

July 19th, 2084…

The mountain base was alive with chatter as people eagerly arrived on Training Level C. It wasn’t an unusual practice, but it always did annoy John, even back when he was a trainee. He didn’t see fit to challenge it, though. After all, ever since the White Ruins Miracle of 2046, everyone in the Yaiba Insurrection wanted to get a glimpse of the Hanzo Gear in action, regardless of whether or not they were warriors. This was even more true of the Insurrection’s potential allies.

John heard word that some ambassador from the Yoroi Alliance would be sitting in on the day’s session, though knowing why was above his paygrade… not that he was being paid in anything more than food and water. He heaved a sigh as he looked to the stands that surrounded the training floor. They were originally there so that the masters of the early days could observe and critique their students, but now they were less for instruction and more for entertainment. John was less than enthused with the eager faces that steadily strolled into the training grounds, but then he saw Bill Jerrick enter the crowd.

Bill was a tall man with alabaster skin and brown facial hair that made him look distinguished, albeit a bit older than he actually was. He was a gentle spirit, and a cunning warrior, and he was one of the oldest friends that John had. He didn’t know if that was because he’d been drawn to Bill’s nurturing nature, or if it was because Bill was the most extroverted person in the base, but they’d grown close, and John didn’t really have a problem with that. John looked at the old analogue clock on the wall, and surmised that he had just enough time to go mess with his friend and make it back to the floor before the trainees came in.

He slipped through the growing crowd of people to make his way towards Bill’s seat. Bill, who entertained conversation with a couple of his old classmates, seemed to not notice John’s approach. How careless of him, John thought as an evil smirk crept across his face. Bryan Piccio, the man beside him with the blue eyes and blond hair, cracked one of his signature (but incredibly dated) jokes, and Bill, ever the good sport, laughed heartily along with him. John’s grin grew wider as he closed in on his target. His footsteps were masked by those of the people on all sides of him, and the laughter his two friends shared negated the small rattle of the steel ball inside his whistle.

Bryan noticed when John moved in and maintained his smile, but Bill was scared half to death by the loud ring of the whistle in his ear. Bryan and John cracked up at the flustered expression on Bill’s now cherry-colored face, and though Bill punched John in his shoulder the laughter only escalated.

You know I have to get you back, don’t you, Bill asked through the cackles of his friends.

Bring it on, brother, John responded. But you already know I’m a one-upper.

Hamlin used taunt, Bryan chimed in, and his smile expanded as Bill’s head shook in defeat. Anyway, John, I thought you were supposed to be on the floor with the trainees. I heard there was some kind of special guest who was supposed to be watching the session. Still don’t know why though. The mention of the esteemed mystery guest caused a groan to echo from John’s throat.

Yeah, something like that. I guess that’s why they brought me back to work this session, even though I haven’t really seen the inside of this place in a few years, John admitted. Quiet as it’s kept, though, this isn’t an ordinary training session. Bill’s eyes widened and ears twitched with excitement at the implication.

Wait, you don’t mean…? he asked, and John nodded.

Yeah, it’s a graduation test. Looks like you came to spectate at just the right time, huh, the guest instructor said. He could understand the excitement, since graduations from the training program were never announced to anyone ahead of time. The trainees had to remain humble during training, and to be treated as though they were on the same level even if some were more advanced than others. It minimized dissension in the ranks and maximized teamwork (or at least the possibility of it). In a brief moment of nostalgic humor, John had to ask, What was it you used to say during our training back in the day?

‘I’ll never be caught dead in the stands,’ Bryan teased. John snapped his fingers.

Yep, that’s it exactly.

Well you know, people change little brother. Speaking of… Bill’s voice trailed off as he motioned to the upper rungs of the stands. There, amid the last of the attendees, stood an intimidating man of dark skin and frizzled hair. He walked with a cane, but it wasn’t for support, and the only emotion that seemed to register on his face was impatient disgust.

You’ve gotta be kidding me, John said as their eyes locked, and immediately the air around them thickened from the tension. He never comes down here. Bryan averted his gaze and focused his attention on the floor as the trainees started to take their places.

Well if he’s here, it must be for something important, Bill commented, and John narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Maybe you should talk to him.

Nah, John replied with a sudden seriousness that chilled the core of his friends. Bryan shifted in his seat so that he faced the opposite direction of the conversation. The trainees are here so I gotta head back to the floor. He was gone before Bill had a chance to say anything more, and though the elderly man watched him, John paid him no mind. No, now was not the time to think about him, it was time for him to focus on the job that he had to do. Everyone, he called to the plentiful pack of people peering upon the pristine pupils in their presence, and quickly did they silence themselves, if you would be so kind as to take your seats. Today’s session is about to get underway. The crowd obeyed, and once everyone was seated and quiet, John turned his attention back to the three young men that stood before him.

Each of them was dressed in violet and black from head to toe. Heat-resistant masks covered the lower halves of their faces while the hoods of their black cloaks provided shadow to the upper. Their black trousers and violet tunics were fitted to their bodies, and on their sleeves, they bore the reels of titanium chains that ended in a blade of equal strength and shimmer. John, who stood ready in his own Hanzo Gear, couldn’t help but smile at the trio that twitched with anticipation.

It took him a moment, but he came to recognize the Yaiba Insurrection’s newest troops. The leftmost member of this makeshift cell was a tall, lean, chocolate-skinned, brown-eyed kid of about eighteen by the name of Cal Richmond. From what John had been told, Cal had always had a knack for the tech that went into the Hanzo Gear, and often got in trouble for figuring out ways to modify it.

The rightmost trainee was a little on the short side. Black hair that elevated the hood a bit too much for it to hide his dark brown eyes rested atop his head, but it wasn’t that that gave him away. The tan skin of his face dripped with sweat as he laughed from the suspense he felt. This was Lukas Bautista, the son of a man who’d saved John’s life more times than he could count, and if not by his heroic actions on the battlefield then by his sometimes painfully optimistic demeanor. From what he knew, Lukas inherited the name from his grandfather, a man who sacrificed himself for the survival of the Yaiba Insurrection back when the base was in the White Ruins Bunker.

Then there was the centermost. John didn’t even need to try that hard when it came to him. His bushy black hair, medium-dark skin, even his semi-muscular build and composure in training mirrored his own. His hazel eyes, however, matched those of his grandfather, who undoubtedly watched with inextinguishable disgust from the stands above. Darius Hamlin, John’s own son, stood proudly on the training floor, which was a bit too confident for John’s taste. He was well-trained in hand-to-hand combat, and excelled in the ways of the sword, though that wasn’t a surprise since his training started a lot earlier than most others’.

John chuckled, because between them the warrior, the equipment and the morale were all represented in equal measure. He wondered if they knew that, and if they did, he wondered how much trouble it would give him.

Trainees, he called to them, and rested his arm on the hilt of the Reikiken attached to his hip, you’ve been trained to use your body, he paced the ground before them, and he could feel their nerves worsening, your swords, he continued, and gestured to his aura sword with his head, and your wits to stay alive. Today, the three of you are going to apply the skills you’ve learned in a mock battle, but instead of thinking for yourself, you have to think for each other as a unit. Their eyes went wide with delight, and the trembling in their bodies dissipated. John chuckled as excitement took hold of him as well. One more thing, he added, which gave the young upstarts apt pause. You’ll be fighting against me. Now, switch your headsets on and brace yourselves, because I have no intentions of taking it easy on you.

************************************

He couldn’t believe it. After three years of training, Darius’ father was in attendance for one of the sessions. He’d dreamed about this moment since the first time he hit the floor. When it came, though, he saw that his father wasn’t in the stands like everyone else, he was to be the guest instructor for today’s practice. Even so, he was more than excited to show his dad what he could do. Then he found out that his father was the obstacle for his makeshift team to overcome. Darius breathed a heavy sigh as he looked to John, who stood clad in the same purple and black garb at the other end of the training floor. Metal cylinders emerged from the floor between the two parties at staggered heights, and John’s pacing came to a stop as he smiled upon his only son.

Whenever you’re ready, kids, he called to them through the metal obstructions. They didn’t have this when he was first training, but John couldn’t help but admire how a little salvage goes a long way.

We need a plan, Lukas said evenly into his headset. Darius, that’s your dad, right?

Yeah, Darius confirmed with his eyes on his opponent. He wasn’t dad in this moment, just the mark as defined by their mission. It wouldn’t be wise to give way to sentiment in a real fight, and even though this was just practice, Darius knew that to his old man it was about as serious as it could get.

You know anything about his battle style? Cal asked as he carefully surveyed the spaces between the poles. There was just enough room for them to maneuver themselves, but they’d have to be smart about it. The technicians in the fight lab were generous enough to give them surfaces to grapple onto and spring from, but not so much that they’d just give them free rein to move as they saw fit.

He’s a master of the Rairyu style of swordsmanship, so he’s prone to using a single-hand grip on his Reikiken. His techniques are fast and precise, and while he’s at his best when he’s grounded, he’s managed to adapt his movements to full capacity with the Hanzo Gear, Darius supplied.

So then we have to disarm him, right, Lukas asked with an upbeat ring in his voice, despite the serious expression that took his face. Darius shook his head.

That wouldn’t work, he admitted. His Reikiken is fitted with a smaller hilt, and as a whole it’s as balanced as the battle techs can make it. If we got in close, there’s a big possibility that all three of us would get stabbed and fail the exercise.

Hmm… Cal hummed as he stroked the few hairs on his chin. Then we won’t take him down by conventional means.

Not at all, Darius agreed. Fighting him on his terms, especially as a group would be a suicide mission.

Then you fight him by yourself, Cal suggested, and Darius cut his eyes at him.

What do you mean, Lukas asked, and Cal merely smiled.

************************************

I wonder what they’re whispering about, John asked aloud as he surveyed the trio through the forest of metal. His eyes lit with intrigue, and silently he commended them for not rushing into battle without working on a strategy. As the instructor, John wasn’t allowed to make the first move, even if this was supposed to be a head-to-head bout. He could only wait for the opportunity to strike, but that wasn’t so bad. The principles of the Rairyu style dictated that the swordsman had to be patient for the opening to present itself, and though the students in his charge might have been familiar with his preferred battle style at a glance, they never even realized that they were playing into his hands.

John’s eyes narrowed at the sound of the trainees’ shifting feet in the training grounds. He watched as Cal and Lukas stood by and let Darius rush to engage. The boy darted with grace and agility through the poles, and just before he could clear the forest on his own, he used the combination of his kyoketsu-shoge and repulsor boots to vault to the ceiling of the arena. The corner of John’s mouth lifted before he realized. As Darius blasted himself back to the floor, John used his own chains to push himself off the ground and out of the way. Darius now held John’s former position, and John stood with his back to the emergent pikes. The crowd erupted with gasps and cheers as some slid to the edge of their seats, and Bill and Bryan could be heard cheering at the top of their lungs.

Strong start, John complimented, though I’m not entirely sure you grasp the concept of teamwork. Darius chuckled.

I might understand it more than you know, he replied. John lifted his sword so that it stood perpendicular to the ground, then with an elegant spin he redirected the tip to the ground. Darius, on the other hand, hoisted his weapon over his head and angled the tip at his father. They paced the ground, eyes locked on their respective opponent, and in that moment there was no crowd, nor were there any teammates. This was a bonding moment between father and son that the both of them had looked forward to, probably since the day Darius entered the world.

John, overtaken with excitement, stepped in and attempted a strike to his son’s shoulder but was knocked out of the way by Darius’ instantaneous block. The boy swiveled around and copied the same opening move of his father, but when he was met with the sturdy wall of the trainer’s sword, he attacked the other shoulder at heightened speed. The crowd came to life again as the rookie seemed more competent than they’d first believed. John again moved his blade to protect himself, one hand tucked behind his back as if to taunt the young upstart, and rolled his sword in an upward-swinging motion aimed at his son’s midsection.

Darius was surprised at how fast the move went, and even more surprised that he’d somehow managed to parry it out of the way and track his opponent’s blade back to the inside. John’s midsection was exposed, or so he allowed his son to believe, and at the moment he noted confidence in his boy’s expression, he spun his weapon downward in a parry of his own, the energy of which he promptly redirected into a stab at Darius’ abdomen. Every heart in the audience beat ferociously as the blazing sword made its way toward the skilled trainee, but the determined youngster narrowly swatted the end of John’s Reikiken out of the way, and followed the momentum into a powerful overhead attack that, John noted, was somewhat uncharacteristic of the style that Darius employed.

The combat veteran moved his displaced firesword in a circular fashion that shielded his head from the blow as he moved off the center line. He quickly straightened up, and with pristine fluidity, John fiercely swiped at both legs of his momentary enemy before the boy disengaged.

You’ve gotten pretty good at the Suiryu style, John was forced to concede. It’s been a long time since anyone’s been able to cross blades with me like this. Darius shrugged.

Yeah, well, I wanted to make sure that today’s training was worth the watch, he replied with laughable faux humility. John knew exactly what this was. His boy picked the one style that would be the most difficult for him to break through just on the off chance they had to fight each other. He was pleased to know that even in his time away, Darius had taken his lessons to heart and did what he could to be one step ahead of his opponent. He opened his mouth to praise his son, but the sound of rattling chains behind him sparked a tension in his muscles that unwound as he spun and shot his kyoketsu-shoge upward to knock Cal’s off course.

The titanium blades clashed in the middle, and as his chain retreated to his wrist, John was greeted with a leg sweep by Lukas. How did he manage to sneak up on me, John asked himself as his upper body drifted sideways towards the ground. He caught himself on his free hand, and with a single-handed cartwheel he was back upright again.

Okay, I’ll admit it, he started as he looked between the three fledgling warriors, I’m pleasantly surprised.

Does that mean that the training session’s over, Lukas asked with his signature optimism. John laughed, and then tucked his free hand behind his back as he extended his blade forward.

Oh, on the contrary, kids, he said with a degree of excitement that put the opposing team on edge. One decent attack formation does not solid teamwork make. I’ll need to see a little more before I give you my seal of approval.

Say less, Cal uttered as his heavy repulsor boots met the dusty ground of the training floor.

Just don’t blame us for what happens next, Darius continued, and John raised his eyebrows.

We did give you the chance to give up, Lukas culminated, and as they all took up a fighting pose, John dropped his. The trio was confused and slightly terrified, emotions that only intensified when John used his grapple to take to the metal forest behind him. Well, that happened.

Cal, Lukas, you work your way around the pikes to flank him from the left and right respectively. I’ll charge in straight ahead, see if I can’t distract him like before.

Roger, they said in unison. They had no problem with Darius taking charge, especially when it was his dad that they were up against. Their plan, though, was roughly the same as the one they used before, and he’d expected that trainees without actual battle experience would be limited in their scope.

Eyes on target, Lukas informed through the headset. He jumped between pikes and used his repulsors to extend his leaps to cover distances that his legs were too weak to. He dug one of his blades into the cylinder in front of him, and as his target continued to jump and glide through the scrap-iron thicket, Lukas turned his second kyoketsu-shoge on his quarry. John crossed his legs and fired his repulsors to spiral out of the way. He grabbed hold of the nearest of the junk spires, and used another boost from his repulsors to spin back into the direction of the oncoming Lukas. The boy was caught off guard as John vaulted towards him, but before they made contact, Darius met John in the middle. Their blades clashed in midair, and sparks abounded in the battlefield.

The father and son pair had no choice but to hold