Clashes between Samurai are rare, the protectorate vetting algorithms being as rigorous as they are. It does happen however, and woe betide any city they might choose as an arena.

Samurai: A History.

***

Cassy was on the run. It seemed any time she stopped for too long in one place, The Family would find her. She’d see them coming through the crowd at a carnival, or pointing at her while fundraising. They were getting better and better at hiding their radio chatter, making it more difficult for Barty to intercept their communications. She had no clue what they wanted with her, and she didn’t want to find out.

Cassy had seen what that cult of homogeny had wrought. They marched to battle in matching outfits; boring black with straps and pouches, and boxy black guns. Walking in step, talking in a made up language only they knew. Handing out more of their boring black attire to anyone who would listen. It was horrendous.

Oh, they tried to hide their indoctrinating ways. They had figure heads, little spots of colour and creativity. But even those would have crews gathered around that mimicked them. Spots of colour that spread through the boring black like a bruise. These were their special recruiters, the ones who were sent after the new baby Samurai, hoping to bring them into the fold.

It all reminded Cassy of the Blorg, from the show Sci-Fi showed her. “We’ll add your uniqueness to our own! Fighting is Futile” Scary stuff. Of all the unpleasant aliens from the space show, she disliked the Blorg the most.

The guy with a single letter for a name though, he looked fun. Cassy loved the episodes he showed up in. Most of the time at least, sometimes he got a bit too dramatic, too serious. The whole genre could really use more humour, maybe a clown could be the next Aeon Raptor captain…

“Barty, how goes the moon shoe savings?” Cassy asked, while she pedalled Bike’s pedals as fast as she could.

Unfortunately we had to dip fairly deeply into the moon shoe fund after we lost the last wager with MoG.

“Hmmm, don’t remind me. I can’t believe she won the vote. I gave them an entire week of fun and games, and slippery slides, she just rebuilt a city better than it was before in record time. And she had help! I was on my lonesome.” Cassy lamented her loss as she got Bike to skid around a corner and leave glittery skid marks behind.

“Helping her build a sky-scraper sized version of Slides and Stairs was fun though. It’s nice that Saskatchewan has so much open space. Do you think they’d let us turn the province into a carnival? Like the whole thing, every square metre, Cassy’s land of Joy! Hmmm, nah terrible name. First we get a name, then we get a province…”

Cassy was pedalling like her life depended on it, which it really didn’t, but it was more fun to pretend it did. Skidding around corners, weaving through traffic, oncoming and otherwise. Leaving behind her glitter, confetti, and random splotches of paint. Sgt. Fluffle sat in his usual position. He had switched to the T-shirt cannons for the day, firing them off to wrap themselves around Family operated drones that were tracking them.

“And why did she have to call in one of her favours right now! What is she even doing with Time Flies in the ocean anyway? Did you know TF could go underwater Barty? Cause I had no idea. How did MoG know?”

A rapid clashing of Bike’s forward cymbals drew Cassy’s attention forward. The road in front of them was about to end rather abruptly, construction having been abandoned some time ago.

“Alright Bike! Time to try out your aerial acrobatics! Release flotation devices! Rev up those propellers! Lock trailer hitch!” As Cassy hollered out commands Sgt. Fluffle ceased his drone sniping, and started pulling levers and spinning wheels. Bike buzzed and whirred, clicked, and clacked, hissed and bubbled.

Sgt. Fluffles artillery trailer stopped swaying too and fro, the hitch locked rigid, and pulled in closer to Bike. The circular base of the rotation platform split and folded, and refolded like artful origami, briefly obscuring the Sgt. and trailer entirely. As the trailer settled it revealed a tail gunner position in which the Sgt. sat, bracketed by a pair of large spinning fans.

While the trailer transformed Bike was not idle. Balloons of every shape, colour, and construction were bursting forth from a multitude of hidden pockets about his frame. The arms that usually clanged cymbals out in front had stowed them away. They twisted and turned, growing longer, as they grasped the strings and ribbons that trailed each balloon, until they were all floating in a cluster overhead. Bike’s wheels folded up neatly beneath him as they lifted from the ground. Air-Bike was taking off for the skies!

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

***

Air-Bike was amazing! Cassy loved feeling the wind in her curly multi hued hair as they soared through the skies, heading for safety far from the dastardly and boring Family. She just wished the wind through her hair was going a bit faster. Air-Bike was not fast, his current form was rather more of a leisure craft it seemed. Sgt. Fluffle had ceased shooting the Family drones from the sky. Air-Bike was not built for a dog fight, and Cassy had neglected to draw movement arrows for the tail gun in her drawings, so it only fired directly behind them.

Smaller drones had clustered around them in a very nearly perfect sphere, a patch in front of them was flashing lights in the pattern of an arrow pointing toward the top of a parking garage, on which a pair of black clad Family flunkies, and a strange white box were waiting for them.

“Barty, promise me, if I don’t make it out of this with my whimsy intact, you’ll go on without me. That you’ll keep spreading joy, and opposing monochrome ensembles till the end of time.” Cassy stage whispered to her AI, as Air-Bike started his slow descent to their potentially grim fate.

I promise Cassy, no matter what happens down there, I’ll make it my life's goal to add polka dots and stripes of all the colours, even ones only birds and insects can see, to every article of clothing in the milky way. Joy shall never die!

As Bike settled on the concrete slab of the parking garage he shifted back to his previous form. Balloons deflated and were pulled back into the secret pockets of his frame, Sgt. Fluffle’s artillery trailer returned to its usual form, a trio of whip-cream pies were loaded into catapults aimed at the two people and the white box.

Cassy glared with a pout at the two men. “Fine you win, you caught me. What do you want? You better not try to make me wear all black! I’m a girl of many colours! And while I think your pouches and straps are kinda neat, and probably pretty handy, they lack whimsy, and that just won't do.” Her voice grew quieter and more grim as she spoke. Or at least as grim as a pouty clown could be.

The shorter of the two stepped forward and spoke. “You know what we want Cassy, you’ve known this whole time while we chased you through half the city sowing chaos as you went. This has to stop! Every time someone from the Family tries to talk to you, you run off, acting like it’s all some game!”

Cassy continued to pout and glare, although hints of a smile were trying to creep onto her face. “But games are fun.” She whispered to herself.

The slightly taller person cleared their throat. “As we informed your AI, several months back. The individuals you left in our colleagues' care, some time ago, requested we deliver a message to you, one that they insisted had to be hand delivered, digital would just not do. Thus we have this.” He said pointing to what Cassy could now see was a turn of the millennium style refrigerator.

It was covered on all sides by letters and images of every medium Cassy could imagine fridge art be made from. Words of thanks, and encouragement. Depictions of her, and her friends, human, and otherwise, all around the world. At carnivals, and doing shows, helping people, and rebuilding cities, and more than a few showing her least favourite part of it all, the fundraising.

Cassy stepped off of Bike’s seat, and walked toward the paper covered fridge, she slowly made her way around all four sides. Lifting papers to reveal layer after layer of heartfelt letters and clever depictions of her exploits.

“I should mention as well, that while it started with just their messages, every place you’ve forced us to chase you through has added more. You should really learn to hang around more, no need to always be on the go.” The shorter said, pulling off their helmet and revealing their own massive mop of multi hued hair. “I’m a bit of a fan myself.” He continued, looking down bashfully to hide his blush.

“They call me Drone Drone, uh, don’t ask, just one of those names right? Anyway, they said there was another surprise on the inside, and that you should open it up.”

Cassy grinned back at the young Samurai, a few happy tears trailing down her white pancaked face, she sniffled softly. “If I’d known the messages were this nice, I might not have kept playing tag this long, you guys are just so good at it, and you are always so dour, and could use some fun, and…” Her rambling trailed off as she sniffled again, grinning from ear to ear.

“It’s been fun right? Playing tag? We should totally play again! Maybe in Montreal! I hear it’s a nice city, might have to learn French though.” As she reached to open the fridge, the two men in black tactical clothing looked to each other in concern, they turned to Cassy, perhaps about to ask her not to keep using members of the Family to play tag with.

Cassy would never know what they were going to say though, because as her white gloved hand touched the curved plastic handle of the fridge, the door, quite literally, exploded outwards.

Cassy, Bike, the two men, and the entire top floor of the parking garage disappeared in a cloud of confetti, glitter, balloons, and those fake snakes with springs inside them.

As Cassy crawled out from under the colourful mass, she found she had been pushed clear across the garage, almost bouncing off of the rim of the wall. She began to laugh, the brightest, loudest most joyful laugh she’d laughed in some time. She fell back into the pile, laughing and grinning wildly, swishing her arms and legs as if trying to make an angel in the snow.

A cloud of tiny drones flew intricate patterns, imitating fireworks and forming images in the sky, as the fridge continued to release wave after wave of its contents, cascading colour into the streets below.

“Tag is the best.” Cassy shouted as she was covered over in a wave of glittering confetti.