Match 18
Guest Starring:
Mister Heizo Wakuri
The 20s
And Featuring:
The King of Xintong
“Ahh, hello? Mister Wakuri? Are you there?” Takagi asked, his phone pressed to his ear as he reloaded his silenced pistol. Just as a precaution.
“I am. Why are you calling?”
Takagi sighed dramatically, brushing a hand through his short, black hair. His dark green suit was ruffled from his sudden movements. “See, it’s the darndest thing. I got made, so I had to…” He glanced at the three corpses at the table, slumped in various positions with bullet holes in their heads. “Dirty things up a little.” He paused, then added as an afterthought, “Sorry.”
“...You understand, this is the third time you’ve ‘been made’ on the job."
“Yeah, I understand,” Takagi replied as he lit a cigarette, taking a drag to think before continuing, “It wasn’t my fault though. This one guy, Cho, got a call. Shit’s happening, apparently, and he screamed something about a rat. Now, I know I ain’t a fed, but when a guy shouts that and you’re the only spy around, you have to think fast.”
“Just as you thought fast in Padapar and Khuleang.”
Takagi paused. Wakuri didn’t sound mad, but there was something in his tone. “...Well yeah, but those turned out fine overall. We still turned a profit, so the offense was wiped, right? I can do the same here.”
“No, that’s not an option. Our timetable has been thrown out, and securing Xintong looks to be...troublesome. Your current guise has garnered a reputation.”
“Sure, but it was a necessary one. Sir. These men, triad men, they work differently from us more civilized people-”
“And to live among the savages, you must become savage yourself. What an awful justification.”
Takagi felt his eye twitch and he scowled. “Oi, I’m the one in the field here. I don’t expect a desk jockey to understand, but I’m risking a lot of shit if I get found out! Sir. Now just send a damn clean-up team.”
“Hm. I will take that into consideration. For now, the situation in Xintong is no longer in our interest to pursue. Thank you for your hard work, and goodbye, rabid dog.”
Takagi blinked, raising an eyebrow, when his phone exploded right next to his head. It wasn’t a small explosion either. Every window on his floor of the office building blew out from the force as the entirety of Takagi’s upper body was blasted to charred meat.
Countries away, Wakuri Heizo let out a slow sigh. To most, he would look to be a very unassuming middle-aged gentleman with a portly figure. His hair was still black, cropped short around his head, and he wore a pair of round glasses over his dark eyes.
They were the only thing he wore as he sat in seiza in a barren room. A tablet sat on the ground in front of him, and he set his phone to charge once more as he settled into position. His fingers still burned, and he enjoyed the sensation. At his back, there was the visage of a fierce, crimson deva tattooed. In the middle of its forehead, the number 400 was fully visible.
Down his arms and thighs, more images were visible. A rat, an ox, a tiger, a rabbit, so on, formed in their own colors and creating an artistic tableau across his body. One thing every animal had in common was that, in its mouth, in its hands, or on its back, it held the unmistakable image of a bomb. Large, round, and with an unlit fuse.
The images projected in front of him, screens floating above their single source, displayed what he knew was happening. The deaths of unpleasant agents, and the chaos of a dying beast that had yet to realize its organs were failing. Yes, one must take the head of a snake to kill it, but once the heart, stomach, liver, and lungs have all been carved out, there is little the brain can do but fail to realize its own death.
As the reports continued, he picked up his phone again and called a specific number. “Miss Altamirano has entered Xintong.”
“Oh good. I was almost worried she would not show up in time. Punctuality is quite important.”
“Indeed. In addition, Miss Jiang Xinyue is approaching Shanfeng.”
“My, that is quicker than I had hoped. A threeway battle would have been more...spectacular.” Despite his words, Morikawa Zeshin spoke in a cold, analytical tone, as though the prospect of violence was regarded only in the benefits it could bring. The question then became what benefit a spectacle would hold…
“We could have Miss Jiang delayed, sir. She does appear to be making a detour on the way.”
“No, it would be a waste. Either she dies or Shao dies. Altamirano will face the survivor.”
“Of course. I will pray for her success.”
“Prayers mean nothing. Do not waste your time with them.”
He nodded to no one. “Of course. She purchased a new suit from a different company. Walkure Armaments.”
“Understandable. The recall may have soured her impression of our generosity, and generosity revoked is meaningless. You have a question.”
He did. “Why did you recall the suit? It was primed.”
“It mattered little. We gave her new legs.”
“I did not have a chance to prime those legs.”
“Do try to watch your words, Heizo. Expressing an interest in feeling a young woman’s legs is inappropriate these days."
“...Why do you want her to climb without a leash, sir?”
“Truthfully? I want to see how much of this world she devastates on her path. People speak of rocking waves to herald change, yet miss the hurricane bearing down on them. They think the waves are ripples, believing them spread from a rock that sinks into the depths the instant it breaks the surface, and fail to realize just what threw that rock.”
“...My apologies, but I don’t follow the metaphor.”
“Hm, I thought that was a decent one...no matter. Leave Xintong. Scorava will be claiming it, though I doubt his pets will remain for long. He will not want to risk all five in one fight, even if he could take the advantage here. The twins illustrated quite cleanly how poor the option of an ambush really is.”
“I would think five opponents on one exhausted woman should result in the woman’s death.”
“But is her death worth it? Why risk five assets to eliminate one threat when you have far better options? For instance, I find it very likely that Jiang has made promises and guarantees to the Scorava in return for their aid. Promises she may even hold to, should she truly feel grateful.”
“Presuming she lives, yes?”
“Precisely. Now, continue with clean-up. Scorava may take Xintong, but we might as well make some trouble for the old man. Though do wait until the fight is done. I would prefer we not risk my own investment in these matters.”
“Of course, sir.” Heizo waited for the call to end, set his phone down, and held out his hand. The smell of burning flesh filled the air as he inhaled deep, each fingertip lighting as across the kingdom of Xintong, faint clicks echoed out around a number of objects–some carried and some planted–followed by a slow, steady ticking.
Wakuri Heizo was a man who followed orders. He was also a man with particular tastes he so very much wanted to satisfy, and from the instant he saw Altamirano cleave Hyeon Cheol-su straight in half, he knew she would be a brilliant display.
Hopefully she would finish the fight quickly. The anticipation was killing him.
----------------------------------------
Qingkuang was a small, but decent bar. Relatively fancy, with decorative, if false, gold covering the walls and old scrolls hanging that the owner would insist came from a Pre-Ruin dynasty, though he would be hard pressed to name which one. It wasn’t quite a restaurant, though it did serve food and drinks, and it wasn’t quite a casino, though people could gamble there.
A gambling parlor might be a good descriptor for the establishment. It’s what the four men seated at one table were currently in the process of doing, after all.
“It feels like we’re playing the wrong game,” one man, Baxter, muttered, checking the cards in his hand. His skin was dark brown and he wore a blue suit. He was bald, clean-shaven and fairly fat.
“Everyone feels like that. The life is the life, regardless,” another man, Kelton, replied, then tapped the table, “Check.” In contrast, his skin was pale and he wore a red suit. His hair was red, his eyes were cold, and he had a short beard.
“I mean we’re playing poker in a Chinese restaurant. Shouldn’t we be playing Mahjong or something?”
“I don’t know how to play Mahjong,” the third man, Zheng, added, “I do know how to play poker though, so here we are. Check.” His skin was light and he wore a yellow suit with snakeskin shoes. He had a scar over his left eye, his black hair was slicked back, and he had a short goatee.
“I know how to play. We could form a side game if aesthetics are that important,” the fourth, Saru, said, “Though I have a decent hand, so I might want to wait. Speaking of, I’ll raise.” His skin was tanned and he wore a white suit with a pink undershirt. His hair was dyed blond, and he had a casual slouch to him, his shirt loose and unbuttoned and his tie eskew.
His words earned him annoyed looks from the other three men. Saru always had a good poker face, so if it was a bluff or if he was telling the truth, they had no idea. Regardless, the game continued.
“The game doesn’t really matter, does it?” Kelton asked, “We’re not here to talk about poker.”
“I don’t know, I like winning,” Zheng replied.
“Sure, winning is nice. Everyone likes a winner. So the question becomes, who’s the biggest winner?”
“If we’re going by number, Scorava’s the higher one,” Baxter noted, “Does that mean I should go first?”
Saru chuckled at that. “There are plenty of men with higher numbers. Women too. Perhaps even others! There’s a sort of mystery to it once you look too close to the peak, isn’t there?”
“Not really. Pretty sure there’s a listing of who holds which number somewhere out there. Sides, you can see some of them wander around sometimes. Doesn’t the seventh destroy cities or something?”
Zheng shrugged. “I have no idea. Isn’t the seventh the one on Mars?”
“No, you’re thinking of...fuck, the second? Maybe? Or was that Venus…”
“There are no active colonies on Venus, there’s no way the seventh is up there,” Saru interrupted, then paused, “I mean, ‘less they’re a robot. Or an alien?”
“Isn’t the seventh a woman? I swear I saw-”
“Let’s get back on topic, please,” Kelton requested, “Baxter, you were saying about Scorava?”
“Just that he has a high number. Doesn’t mean much when there’re people higher than him, if you really think about it. Only the top of the tops really matters.”
“No, that’s not quite right,” Zheng contradicted, “If only the first mattered, then why even have other numbers? Why go up to a thousand if that was the case?”
“Because if there’s a first, there has to be a second,” Saru replied, “And if there’s a second, there should be a third, and a fourth, and so on. Really, it’s a miracle it only stopped at a thousand.”
Kelton sighed, then slammed his hand on the table. “Baxter, give your damn report.”
“Kay. Scorava’s an old man. Ruled his corner for going on thirty to three hundred years, depending on who you ask and what standards you go by. The ideal Western criminal, ruthless and brutal while holding himself as classy.”
“Isn’t that the ideal criminal everywhere?” Saru chimed, grinning, “Everyone wants to look classy. It’s a part of the style.”
“True, but he’s earned the rep to go along with it. You know the type. Charming, philanthropic, untouchable. Big family who loves his money and authority, a proper patriarch.”
“I’m still not hearing any differences between the Eastern and Western here.”
“Is there ever really any?” Zheng asked, then placed his cards down, “Pair.”
“Sure there is. One has knights, the other has samurai,” Kelton replied, then placed down his own, “Two pair.”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
“Trying to one up the snake, are we~? Well I only have a high card, so I suppose we should move on,” Saru added, still smiling despite his loss.
“Straight flush, all hearts,” Baxter stated, then continued as the chips were pushed his way and the cards were dealt by a frowning Zheng, “The man has authority. People call him untouchable. Like I said, there’s debate, but most agree he took his city three hundred years ago, and became completely untouchable thirty years ago. No government fucks with the family. Members don’t get arrested, wearing their rose is as good as saying you have the Saint’s backing. Counter is that if you don’t uphold their standards, bad things happen.”
“Oh? What kind?”
“Family dies, friends get ruined, lovers turn to addicts, you wind up in debt. Things like that. Like I said, ruthless. Way people say it, the whole reason he rules Gambol is that he butchered the mobs that used to run it. Things like shooting Sico Viscomi in broad daylight on a tennis court, or drowning Sean Whitelow in an oil drum.”
“He did that personally?” Zheng asked, sounding more interested.
“Yup. Though, might’ve been the oil drum was on fire? Might’ve been Maynor he drowned…” Baxter shrugged. “He earned his number. Only reason he’s not higher is the Eleven’s stonewalling him.”
Kelton nodded. “And his operations?”
“You’ve heard as good as I have. Outta all the syndicates out there, Scorava’s is the biggest. He has the two hundreds locked down, half the twenties work for him, word is that Paradiso and the Grindhouse are practically partnered with him, if not under his influence, and his eldest son’s high ranked too. Number Seventeen, from what I heard.”
“So he’ll be hard to take by any measure.”
“Man rules his city, has the whole state of Bailiwick under his thumb, and the rest of the New States let him be. Giochi Sanguinosi is big enough to ship across the world and out to the stars. Yeah, he’s not gonna be easy.”
Kelton nodded, then looked to Saru. “And Morikawa?”
“About what you’d think. He pays well, invests in tech, and has forty-thousand soldiers ready and willing to kill at his command~. Where Scorava rules the two hundreds, our Eastern upstart runs the four hundreds, and he’s very happy to wield that ‘death dealer’ moniker, particularly as he cozies up to the Mausoleum~. Y’know, some even call him the Young Yama, like a prince to the king~.”
“...And the fourth hasn’t taken offense?”
“Yanluo hasn’t butchered his entire company yet, so it doesn’t seem like it? Though who knows~. An angry god doesn’t usually give a warning when he’s gonna cave someone’s head in~.”
“He’s playing with fire,” Zheng commented, “Passion like that might get him far, but he’ll burn out quick too.”
“Ha! Here you are, talking like an old man, but here we are in the three hundreds while he’s up at a hundred and eight~!”
“And trying to take on a man two digits away from the top ten, like they’re equals. He doesn’t even have the decency to break the top hundred before taking on half the fucking world…”
“Sure, but he’s getting closer. And I wouldn’t say he’s passionate, snake.” Saru smirked, his eyes flicking to Kelton. “He’s a man of calm, not passion. Cool and collected, and more than willing to work slow through the Kingdoms. I’d say he’s being safe, staying at such an off number. Who wants to be the hundred and eighth of anything, much less an immortal that low down? No crane’s coming for a man like that~.”
Kelton tilted his head, acknowledging the message. “Something for later then. A weak man climbing high will always be kicked down.”
“So, how were the lands of the Pact?” Zheng asked, signalling the next topic.
Kelton sighed. “Discordant. Things are moving. The Maw is fractured, its teeth broken and its tongue cut out. The new upstart is likely coming here soon. She’ll be a problem.”
“Not one we can’t handle. Things have been quiet, the people are cowed, Paradise has reached out its hand to our lord, and Jiang seems to be wandering again.”
“Seems to be, or is?”
“...” Zheng frowned, setting his cards down, and took out his phone, flipping through whatever notes he took as Saru tried to check his cards.
Kelton sighed, used to his colleague’s obsessive notes–necessary for his job keeping the homefront secure–and waved a hand, signalling the waitress to come over for another round of drinks. As she set them down, he took a moment to give her a glance. She looked lovely in the red and gold qipao she wore, cut in the right places to emphasize her cleavage and legs. As she moved around the table with a casual grace, Saru leaned the other way, grinning as he tried to get a glimpse through the slits on the sides of her dress.
Kelton sighed again, even more used to Saru’s tendencies, though he took some time to examine the lovely woman himself. She certainly looked fit and solid for a waitress, her black hair hanging down in a tight braid, though the brown skin tone was a clear indicator she wasn’t the troublemaker Jiang, come back from wherever she wandered off to, so...hm. It wasn’t unusual for people to wear masks, especially to keep the dust out, but the design was odd. A yellow-orange for the base and dotted with black spots, rather than curving lines...what kind of cat was that? A leopard, or a jag-
All four men went still at the guns pressed to the back of their heads.
“You picked a bad hand to play.” The waitress plucked four of the cards from Kelton’s hand, then moved to stand in the spot between him and Saru, holding them up for the table to see.
“...fuck. Fuck, fuck, you had the dead man’s hand!?” Baxter seemed more upset at the two aces and eights on display than by the gun pointed at his head.
“Is this really the time for superstition?” Zheng drawled, his hands tense and fidgeting despite it. He looked a second away from jumping the woman, damn the consequences. Her, or the four figures standing around them, all in black and with guns aimed at their heads.
“It’s always a good time for superstition,” the woman replied as she pulled the mask from her face and the wig from her head, showing her far shorter cut of orange-blonde hair, her golden eyes glinting bright in the lights, and the massive black tattoo of a snarling, Aztec jaguar taking up the right half of her face. “Following the rules tends to let you live.”
“Well hey, no need to worry about that here, we all follow plenty of rules!” Saru said, his smile strained as he held his empty hands up, while Baxter gaped, his eyes wide.
“..F-Fuuuuuck. Gotta be kidding me...w-what, what the fuck did I do??”
“...Motherfucker. Motherfucker, these are the twenties, what?!” Zheng yelled.
Saru flinched. “Whoa whoa, what?? What-why would-what the fuck-”
Kelton relaxed. It just came to him as Baxter shivered, Zheng snarled, and Saru gaped. “It wasn’t anything you did on your trip, Bax. We just didn’t kill the right bitch.” His last card was a King of Hearts. He wasn’t sure whether it was meant for him, or for his boss. Brother Tai was gonna be pissed...
Jaguar’s smile glinted in the lamplight. It wasn’t a cruel one. “Sorry boys. The game was rigged.”
----------------------------------------
There was nothing impressive about Shanfeng. Not to a woman like Jiang Xinyue, who had seen the supposed palace more times than she ever would have wanted.
She could feel the eyes on her from every direction. The mocking grins, the snide commentary. They weren’t anything new. The dragon’s lapdogs thought themselves better than even the ranked because of their master’s protection. She’d killed plenty of them, but still the new ones came and made the same mistakes. Children in the bodies of adults, hoping the hand of their patriarch would let them live lives of glory.
None of them stopped her as she strode through the main hall of their palace, with its high ceiling and large, crimson columns. None stopped her as she strode up the central stairs at the edge of the room, flanked by golden guardian lions, though she could feel the eyes staring at her ass. That wasn’t unusual either, and she didn’t mind it today, of all days. They could enjoy their glimpses of heaven before she sent them all to hell.
Xinyue was dressed to impress today. Mostly out of ego, if she were honest. She wore a blue qipao with a high collar and an open back, baring the cold, dark dragon staring out at the golden-suited men of Shanfeng, some of whom couldn’t help but shiver when they met the beast’s azure eyes. High slits at her sides bared her muscular legs up to her firm thighs while the skirt of her dress, as it were, hung down to her ankles. A pair of black heels clicked against the stairs as she walked to the second floor and continued onward, their straps winding up and clinging to the pale blue-white flesh of her left leg, and the solid blue metal of her right.
She wasn’t entirely human; she hadn’t been for a long time, and really, what member of the ranks truly was? It mattered little. Her black hair had grown out, and she currently kept it down and pulled back, falling to her back while confined by silver bands and letting those around see the black eyepatch that covered her heavily scarred right eye-socket. The silver was somewhat ostentatious, but she could tolerate the style for now. Her blue-painted lips quirked in a small smile as she thought of the Jaguar. For such a brutal woman, she had quite the playful sense of the world. It was nice to know not all of her seniors were absolute bastards.
But that mattered little at the moment. She had a victory to achieve. Her metal fists almost tightened, but she kept them relaxed. She had lost her original arms long ago, much like many parts of her body she had to replace over years of fighting. All leading up to this moment.
Standing at 6’4”, Jiang Xinyue cut an impressive figure as she walked into the so-called throne room of Shao Tai’s palace. Rather than an imperial throne room, it resembled more a lounge, filled with couches and cushions and littered with treasures. Chests decorated the walls, both in the treasured sense and the poster sense, and along with the King of Xintong, there was a full entourage of imbeciles wearing little and thinking less.
Favored lieutenants and approved newcomers were allowed to partake in the pleasure of the dragon’s domain as rewards for their service, a way to tie them with a more fervent loyalty to their master. He had learned more from the West than the East, and his palace existed as a pure symbol of that decadence. The air was filled with smoke as half-dressed men languished in comfortable cushions, drinking wine and filling their veins with opioids, willing to trade their health and sanity for a false bliss, all while their king reclined on his so-called “throne”.
Even now, Xinyue could not deny that Shao Tai was impressive. His chest was broad and heavily muscled, solid and chiseled in a way no natural man could maintain. Steroids and dehydration would let a bodybuilder get close to his physique, but even then, they wouldn’t hold up to the sheer power he radiated. Standing, he was full three feet taller than her, an absolute giant of a man, though he was sitting now, reclining on the large couch he called his throne with two women on either side of him, both wearing pasties with his symbol on them, marking them as his as surely as the tattoo she could see on the third girl’s striped ass.
“‘Dragon’s bitch’...really?” Xinyue asked, looking from the woman with her head between his legs to the light-skinned and golden-haired man reclining in his seat, a cigar loosely held in the ringed fingers of his right hand.
“Was that a question, or did a dog come to yap at me?” Shao asked, tilting his head as he considered her with his copper eyes. A thick but well-trimmed mustache curled over his lips and thick sideburns descended down the sides of his face, though his hair was short and messy, sticking up almost like a mane and framing the twin spikes of copper sticking from his head. Crooked horns for a crooked beast.
“Not particularly. You know why I’m here.”
“I certainly do. You want to take Maltese’s place~. Tese, up.” He didn’t gesture, but the woman stood without hesitation, the ears atop her head twitching at the order. “You see that? Obedient, like a proper woman. You could learn a lot from her.”
“Sure. I see you still like tiger women.” Black stripes cut across the dyed-orange skin of the altered woman as she moved onto the couch, snuggling up her fellow thirio on Shao’s right side. A languid tail hung over her shapely ass as pointed ears stuck out of the top of her head, their orange fur contrasting with the dark hair spilling down her back. The other two looked about the same, though the one on Shao’s left had a white coloration instead.
“Course I do~ The pattern’s nice, and there’s a good feelin’ to havin’ a cute pet crawlin’ all over you~.” His grin bared golden teeth, pointed and sharp. “They were presents from Paradiso. Seems their queen is courtin’ me~”
“You have a queen sending you concubines. Has Xintong opened its borders?”
“Maybe, maybe not. It’s nice to be courted though. Have you ever seen Paradiso’s Summer Queen? I wouldn’t say no to a proposal from her~.”
“You let a slaver ply you with concubines, and in turn, you’ll sell her your own people, who you claim to protect.”
He laughed. “I do protect them. I’m their guardian deity, the immortal keepin’ their mortal lives goin’. I keep the other monsters out, and they pay me in turn. If some need to pay with their bodies, then that’s all there is. A useless daughter or worthless son can be put to better use, for the sake of the family.” He took a slow drag of the thick cigar, blowing rings of smoke into the air. “A people exist for their king. You’d know that, if you were ever a real dragon. Instead, you’re a carp, ever swimmin’ for the dragon’s gate.”
“Better a struggling carp than a collared pet.”
“So you say. And as I said, you can join ‘em here anytime you like. Though after everythin’ you’ve pulled, you’ll have to make it worth my while~”
Her lips twitched, nearly becoming a smile as she raised an eyebrow over her sole remaining eye, itself a solid blue. “I see. On a separate matter, the thirty-second has entered your country, and comes here now. You really should do better with the river patrols. The Augrin isn’t a small ship by any means, and yet it docked easily.”
Shao paused, then smirked. “Is that so? You’ve been payin’ attention to her movements.”
“I have.”
He started to chuckle. “So that’s what this is. Ha! Ah, should’ve guessed. When it was the twin ogres obeying the Summer’s whims, you had nothin’ to fear. When it was the bozos before them, you couldn’t care less. But now that there’s an actual climber, a genuine threat, you’ve finally hit that point I’ve always wanted you to. You’ve finally abandoned that worthless pride of yours and come crawling to me for protection, and all because some brat scared the shit out of you.
“Well, never let it be said I’m not a generous man~. I’ll work with you, sure. I might even break in that Altamirano bitch too, let you keep each other company. You’ll be the first of my immortal wives. And all you gotta do, Xinyue, is come on over and give me a nice, long lick~”
“Eighty-seven times, I’ve tried to kill you. I’ve challenged you repeatedly, and been beaten. I’ve shot at you form a distance, and been broken. In points of desperate rage, I’ve even tried to poison you.” Oh how she relished the growing confusion on his face. “None have worked. You survive, killing everyone in your way so you can get to me and smash my face in or tear my leg off or eat my fucking arms in front of me, you sick freak. You destroy things with reckless abandon, so any careful planning is just shit in the face of your overwhelming arrogance. You have too much back-up to beat, and your own powers were always too formidable for me to take.
“Still, no, shove your own cock up your ass and die. I wouldn’t team up with you if you were the last warrior alive, and I sure as shit won’t be your fucking bride you two-bit thug with three-bit dreams.” She held up a finger. “But. You were right about me giving up my pride, because I was honestly sick to death of knowing I walked a world you still lived in, which is why I have a present for you.
She snapped her fingers, and a box dropped to the floor in front of her. “No bomb this time. I’ll even open it for you.”
Xinyue kicked the box, knocking it forward and spilling out four severed heads.
Shao blinked, leaning forward to stare at four sets of sightless eyes. Afraid, angry, bewildered, and utterly calm, and all with gaping holes erupting in the centers of their foreheads. “...bro-?”
For a moment, everyone in the room could’ve sworn they just saw their boss decapitated. Drunken and drugged men staggered up in their cushions as scantily clad women yelped and the three thirios lounging on the couch immediately rushed away from it in a burst of motion, scrambling to the floor and whirling to what they were sure was the sight of Shao’s head flying off into the air and his neck erupting in a shower of blood.
It wasn’t quite that though. Shao’s skin had turned golden, his invincible shield against all damage creeping up his body from the center of his chest just rapidly enough to protect him as he turned to stare at Jiang, who was crouched a few feet behind his couch, her arms still outstretched in a swing. In her hands was a massive, curved sword, its back serrated and its blade gleaming with blue light. It looked almost like a kitchen knife had fused with a saw, and she laid it casually over her shoulder as she turned to grin at Shao, her own sharp white teeth bared with an eager bloodlust.
And Shao flinched, his neck erupting with blood along his right side before he clamped a hand to staunch the shower of red. “Y...You-”
“Oh no, I totally forgot! Ugh, jeez, seriously, that was dumb of me! I didn’t bring just one gift! Duh!” she said, still grinning wide and almost giddy as she set the blade on her back and spread her hands wide, before six severed heads dropped out of the air around her. “I didn’t just have your sworn brothers murdered in cold, impersonal blood by Scorava’s twenties, who, bee tee dubs, I also sold your city to! I went out and hunted down all the old masters who trained you in those aggravating martial arts you practice! Oh, and then there was the sage who granted you holy guidance–” Another head drops. “–the spring maidens who blessed you with golden might–” Three more heads. “–and every fucking captain in your triad that wasn’t already here!”
And there were a whole ton of heads now dropping and rolling to the floor, raining down as her grin got wider and her single eye glinted with maddened joy and rage. “Do you get it yet, Tai? No more take backs here. No more abstaining, no clean hands, no protesting that you don’t kill women, none of that! No getting away from this, here and now, you and I, we fight AND YOU DIE!”
Her next cut splits the couch in half and he stumbles back, before gagging as a sharp cut splits along his chest. “GAH! YOU EVIL B-”
“YES I AM! AND SO ARE YOU! NOW COME ON, HE WHO WOULD KEEP ME FROM PARADISE!” She swings her blade back, readying herself as Shao chokes down blood, shaking his head as gold roils across his body, lurching up in molten rage as solid rocks form in the air around him, spinning in preparation to launch. “GIVE ME ONE LAST GOOD FIGHT!
“BEFORE I CUT OFF YOUR BALLS AND EAT THEM!”