I lay low in the grass, visibly cut in half with an impossibly sharp edge and bathed in both gunpowder and rain. Holes littered the mud, and as I crawled through the cover of the vegetation, my hands kept finding scraps of shrapnel and a variety of seemingly ordinary items like bottles of perfume and ballpoint pens which moments ago had held a deceitful amount of power. Metallic screeching, heavy gunfire, and the air being cleaved by both sword and slug drowned out the crashing deluge as I kept my head down but ears up. Even as I hid, I couldn't prevent myself from sparing glances at the intense battle raging a mere dozen meters away. The sounds of war stopped for a moment, prompting me to get a visual of the two combatants before they resumed their duel. On one side stood an unwavering warrior from a far-off land, brandishing an impeccable blade that looked as though pure light made up its steel. Opposite him, a woman clad in a tailor-made suit held their black umbrella like a cane - elegance, and confidence dripping from them even more so than the raindrops. I lay on the ground with bated breath, unsure of the outcome of this duel and even more confused about the reasoning for it. But it's rude of me to begin here, so let's go back a bit, shall we?

A flashback in a flashback? Crazy. And it's in a dream too!

"So you're saying I invited you guys here to catch up?"

"Yep! That's what the messenger pigeon spoke." Hunter replied, placing his straw hat beside him as he sat on the fallen tree, seemingly appearing out of nowhere.

"That's what the cipher you radioed me said as well," Ilya added, standing firm beneath the shadow of her umbrella, "Though you've gotta be quite the airhead to have forgotten that." She continued with a charming tone, poking fun at my confusion.

I apologize for being so lost when one of you materialized from leaves. And the other came down from a military vehicle. I'm at fault.

To get you caught up with current affairs, it seems I am currently experiencing REM sleep consciously, or in other words - a lucid dream. While I was aware of this fact, any attempt to exercise the usually expected unlimited power in this domain of my own making was absent, leaving me to figure things out from square one.

"My bad, just been a hectic day, I guess. Moving on from that, how'd you get so...Y'know?" I asked, pointing to their ensembles. They both eyed me with confusion - their looks telling the answer was evident. It was at that point I gave up asking, deciding that creating my own logical explanation would be a better alternative. Judging from their outfits, items, and entrances, it became clear that my own brain was representing the couple as caricatures of the respective shows they had recommended. Hunter had the traditional garbs and armaments of the samurai from the anime he had recommended to me, one set in a fantasy-lined Edo period Japan. Ilya contrasted with her East-donning partner as she wore a black suit and tie - equipped with formal accessories such as cufflinks, ruby earrings, and a pair of spruce glasses - not forgetting the portable sunshade she held like a gentleman. Her show was an action romance about a spy who fell in love with their target, a simple, almost done-to-death premise that she backed up with confidence.

Though I think she just liked it for the pretty guys and fancy aesthetic.

With that rationalization in my head, I took a breath, prepared for whatever else my imagination was ready to throw at me. I slapped myself with both hands twice to get back into the game before facing them.

"Alright! I'm sorry for earlier. It really has been a long day for me. But moving on from that, how have you two been?"

"Great! The cultural and spatial-temporal differences make things a little tough, but we're managing." Hunter replied casually, even blushing a little as he did.

That sounds more than a bit inconvenient but okay.

"Don't sell us short, hun! We have a few disagreements here and there, but after interrogating him for ninety-six hours and monitoring his behavior for a month, I have complete trust in him now." Ilya said with the sweetest smile, causing her partner to become even redder as they continued their lovey-dovey exchange.

No, seriously, what the hell. Then again, these are all coming from my head. Is this how I actually see these two?

I just laughed along, accepting my fate in this strange scenario.

"That's good to hear. So um, do you have anything else you wanna talk about?" I asked, wondering how much longer I had to wait until my body decided to wake up.

"Well, if there was one thing..." Ilya trailed off, glancing at her other half.

"One of us would like to help train your partner. The world is a dangerous place as of now with demons, beasts, terrorist organizations, and the like."

Just what kind of screwed-up world is this?

Still, if I had to guess, this was this place's version of them asking me which show was better, getting twisted by my mind. It's a common occurrence in dreams, so I answered the question the same way I was planning to in real life.

"About that, I actually decided that it's a tie. Both of you have your strengths,"

Hunter, yours had excellent visuals and great world-building, but the characters lacked depth.

"And both of you have your weaknesses."

Ilya, your characters were surprisingly compelling, and the romance wasn't too bad either, but it felt a bit cliche.

"I also just think Myla might prefer some other sho- I mean training." They became quiet after that, pondering my conclusion.

So, how do I think you'll react?

"We see." Hunter breaks the silence, getting up from his seat.

"If that is the case, we'll have to decide it with the only way we know." Ilya continued, closing her umbrella and placing it on her back, strapped like a sword.

"Jeez, you guys are taking this seriously. What are you gonna do? A battle to the death?" I joked as I sensed the atmosphere become tenser. All the pair had as a reply was a solemn look before the scenery suddenly changed.

"Eh? Where are we?" In an instant, my feet sank into the muddy fields of our new locale. As if being teleported, the backdrop became an empty field of nothing but grass and patches of wet ground. The earlier curiously clear skies became engulfed in a cloudburst of hail and smoke-black cumulonimbus. In the middle of this uneasy field stood two imposing figures. They wordlessly stared each other down, walking in a circle as if two predators locked in a territorial dispute. Sweat began to run down my back as dread began to saturate the air. Even with a storm already brewing, it felt like it was merely the calm to portend the uproar to begin.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"Guys!" I shouted to deaf ears attached to belligerent eyes.

"Come on now! There's nothing to gain from this! Myla wouldn't even want this-"

"Bridger." Ilya stopped me, the first to stop in place, eyeing her focused partner with eager intent.

"It would be best for you to keep low and protect your head," Hunter added as he stopped opposite his sharply dressed counterpart. I took their advice and dropped to the damp soil, peeking through the grass as it all began to unfold.

This isn't an: if I die here, I die in real life deal, right?

And with that, the battle began.

Ilya engaged first, crossing her arms together and removing her large glistening earrings with a subtle click activating them. She threw them toward Hunter, the tiny specks of red flying at him with speed - he readied his blade to cut them in twain. But before they even made contact with him, they detonated, releasing a large amount of red gas, far more than one would expect from the deceptively small gilded grenades.

I seem to remember that being the gift of the spy to his target in the show. So this really is all my own mind's doing, huh?

The gas began to fly right at Hunter's position as if being willed to do so by the savvy agent themselves - in the process, also concealing her position in the mist.

So that's why she stopped circling first.

The wind carried the gas at high speed towards the honorable warrior, who quickly removed his straw hat as he faced down the incorporeal wave of death that was approaching. Without warning, the hat's brim opened to reveal a circular blade of silver, reflecting the keen eyes of their stalwart wielder. And in one swift motion of his wrist, he threw his headwear headlong into the smog - the supernatural item spinning into a whirlwind and returning to Hunter's head, parting the venomous haze into two plumes of crimson. The air became still, but even with his eyes hidden, I could tell he was looking for his opponent, just as I was.

These shows always gotta give the hero a gimmick, don't they?

As I was getting lost in my thoughts, a shadow suddenly appeared behind one of the walls of rising vapor. Before either of us could process it, a slim figure dived through the gas without regard for their effects, two jet-black pistols in their hands equipped with laser sights, silencers, and a set of intimidating bayonets.

Alright! I get it! Head down, head down!

Shots began to ring out across the constant tock-tack of the drizzling battlefield, causing shockwaves on the droplets and ripples on the earlier uncreased suit of the young woman. She began running in a circle around the caught-off guard swordsman, drawing his blade in a flash to slice and divert the oncoming gunfire. Sparks of metal-on-metal collisions filled my view as Hunter held his ground, tracking and parrying each individual shot that flew from his opponent's hand cannons. Ilya maintained her sprint, trying to land a hit on a blindspot or simply overwhelm the warrior with an all-out attack from a kinetic enemy. While her plan seemed to be effective, forcing Hunter to go on the defensive, a good defense would be useless if it couldn't bite back.

"If you believe my blade's reach limits me, you are sorely mistaken!" In between cutting a mid-travel round in half and another arriving - he switched to a one-handed stance and spun the blade, placing the blunt edge between him and the molten lead. The agent did not relent, however, not paying mind to the subtle change in the style of her enemy, a mistake she would quickly regret. Hunter slashed one of the speeding slugs just as he was doing, but instead of turning it to scrap, the round returned to sender, sparks of metal falling like ash from where blade and bullet met before performing a quick dodge roll to avoid the rest of the bombardment.

"Hmph." I could only read from Ilya's lips, and the quick change in her expression as a brief glint of blue appeared on her face before she perfectly evaded the ricocheted projectile.

That light was from her glasses. Did those lenses manage to home in on that tiny thing and tell her how to dodge it? Hey, brain? I don't remember those things being that effective in the show, but whatever makes a better fight scene for you.

But before the confident confidant could relax from their brush with death, a high-pitched whistle flew past her head, shearing off a few locks of her orange mane and causing her to flinch. My eyes darted to the source of the hiss - a warrior crouched down whose left arm was outstretched - revealing a hidden weapon. An arm-mounted crossbow sat atop his free hand, the other clenching the patterned Damascus, which was his pride and art. Through ingenious machinery and craftsmanship, another bolt loaded itself onto his armament, a chain of arrows strapped around his arm like a belt of machinegun rounds.

Oh, good lord, the fight has only just started.

The two resumed their battle, attempting to encircle one another as they ran in opposite directions. Ilya maintained her barrage, using her speed to weave through the arrows or shoot to intercept them. Hunter changed from his static position to a mobile one, using one hand to stave off the hellfire and the other to return with his own.

As cool as that is, unless he lands one on her head, those arrows aren't piercing the Kevlar suit.

I told myself as I watched the deadly duet in front of me, casting doubt on one of the dancer's weaponry before an arrow landed right beside me.

"Oi! Watch where you're aimi-" I raised my head up to shout, only to be greeted by the suppression of near-miss bombardment above me.

"Point taken," I whispered, going back to the ground only to realize the earlier lush greenery that I hid in had wilted and turned an ashy-gray color. My eyes scanned for what could have caused it, moving through the now-empty dirt until my hand landed on a hard object. I picked it up, only to realize it was one of the loosed crossbow bolts from the warrior, its V-shaped tip dripping in a sickly green fluid.

Ahahaha. I take it back. His weapon should be fine.

Their turning circles became tighter and tighter with each revolution, the distance between the combatants rapidly decreasing. As this space grew smaller and smaller, they had to react to each projectile faster and faster. The cunning spy kept her sights and barrels locked onto the swift warrior, shooting each pistol one at a time to allow the other to recover from the recoil, resulting in an unceasing barrage of metal reverberating throughout the landscape. The warrior, in response, carefully chose which shots to evade, score in two, and which to return, his control over his blade like an artisan with a brush - the metal sparks and muzzle flashes creating a mosaic of war.

About twenty steps before contact.

The radius of their circle was now just a dozen meters, and the opportunity for a decisive blow was just as close.

Fifteen.

Both of their gazes were blazing with anticipation, each bullet practically grazing the air around Hunter.

Ten.

The grips on their weapons tightened as a clash became imminent, each loosed arrow, pinning the raindrops around Ilya.

Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five.

Realizing the chance was within reach, Hunter sheathed his blade, dive-rolling at his opponent.

Four. Three.

Ilya only had time to react by raising her guns and readying an evasive stance as the warrior appeared right in front of her, low to the ground and hand clenching the hilt of his katana - his pupils projecting an entrancing flame of might.

Two. One.

Hunter drew his blade in one swift motion, attempting to slash across his better half's stomach - the wind around his hand singing a hymn of death as the sword parted the air it flew through.

Good God, am I really gonna watch someone I know get their entrails ripped out?

Ilya's eyes widened, realizing she had overstepped her boundaries just as the blade was about to separate her upper half from her lower - she jumped.

"I'll be using that, thank you!" She took the time to throw in a line, and instead of fully vaulting over the weapon, she placed her feet on the flat surface of the blade and bounced off of it, using the momentum from her legs and Hunter's swing to disengage with grace. The warrior's edge was almost thrown out of his hand, making him lose focus on his target and allowing the sly agent to regain some distance and prepare for a counter-assault. Still, as she threw herself back, the fact that she needed to stab the bayonets of her weapons into the ground to lose her inertia spoke volumes of the strength of her opponent.

Power and technique versus cunning and technology.

Ilya got back up, raising her guns at Hunter, who readied a defense once again. As she had the pitch-black eyes of her pistols stare down at Hunter, an audible clack emanated from them, signaling they had run dry. The agent weighed her options for a moment, realizing if she took the time to reload now, there was no telling how her opponent would capitalize off the downtime.

"You've only run out of ammunition, not fervor, have you?" Hunter shouted as he switched from defense to a headlong rush at her.

"Hardly," Ilya replied, twirling the weapons around her trigger fingers and holding the bladed firearms like black-steel sickles.

Round Two.