It was the second best show the Ocean's Motion had ever put on, following closely behind the time Professor Wardenclyffe accidentally ruptured the supply valve on his Automatic Coin Organizing device and sprayed money into the audience. A no-holds-barred fight between two Gun Knights, a triple-forged Dwarven Harem Master, and a dozen dancers of the Bishoujeux Can-Can Revue.

It was an unexpected show mind you, and one that raised a few complaints from interested parties expecting the Bishoujeux Can-Can Revue's normal dance number and stage show. However, many of those complaints were silenced when it was pointed out to them that the dancers were right there, on stage. What more did you need? The response, of course, was the eternal, transcendent answer of "more tits," but they dared not voice it, as Regis Priapus was taking off his suit jacket, threatening to accommodate them.

Ruth was writing furiously. This was a story in the making, and she was exhilarated to have front-row seats (figuratively, seeing as she was actually on the balcony) to the events as they unfolded. Her pen raced furiously across the page, marking into the annals of history every blow struck, and many that weren't.

"Looks like this fight is getting too hot..." Musashi said to the dancers, who were staring at him with lust (blood and otherwise) in their starry eyes. "And yet... not hot enough."

Musashi slowly dropped his fists and unbuttoned his shirt, making one dancer faint right away. He took his elegant shirt off and threw it into the audience, where a few Ladies began to fight over it right away, maddened by the manly pheremones on it and the collector's value.

"Let's stoke the flames... of passion," he whispered, loud enough to be heard by the entire room. The dancers looked lustily at him with sultry looks in their eyes.

Ruth lifted her pen and looked up at the stage, where Musashi had just ducked a flying kick from one of the dancers. He had abandoned his Gun Knight coat long before the fight had started, draping it across his chair during the Wardenclyffe show. As she watched, he reached up and tore his shirt open, sending buttons flying in a blinding spray that disoriented an attacking can-can dancer.

The princess gasped, staring down at her writing. "Am I a prophet? Or... perhaps he heard me and took it as a request?"

Ruth looked about the balcony. She was alone at the moment. The Sheriff had left the room immediately, presumably to fetch backup. Lucas and Kate had been released from custody, and had also left without announcing where they were headed. Zetsurin had... stepped out for a moment. She blushed crimson, looking down at her page and hesitating before writing: "and then Musashi took off his pants too."

Zetsurin launched into the balcony from the overhang, swinging down from atop the roof where she had been fetching something. She landed next to the princess, causing the Imperial Sovereign/fanfiction author to let out a startled yelp and slam her book shut.

"W-welcome back," Ruth said nervously, as The Deadly Siren gave her an expression that said 'You're acting suspicious, but I also don't really care'. She set her book to the side, looking more fully at the ex-Adventurer. Zetsurin had donned a set of glowing copper bangles and a steel gorget made of a few interlocking layers, such that it covered the entirety of her long neck, but was articulated enough that it shifted and moved without restricting her range of motion. She was still wearing the Kimono she'd had on earlier, but had also fastened a belt of golden cord around the outside, which surprisingly fit the aesthetic more than you might expect.

Zetsurin stared down at the stage, fury burning in her eyes. The air around her rumbled quietly, like a thunderstorm in the distance, or a tiger lurking in the nearby bushes, or perhaps both: a thunderstorm lurking in the bushes nearby. She held up a long spear with an emerald blade at the end.

"I had to find my speargun," she explained.

Ruth glanced at the weapon, which was a long steel haft with a flat, diamond-shaped blade at the end. She frowned. "Where's the g—"

Zetsurin interrupted her, gripping a slightly thicker, ridged section of the spear and racking it like a shotgun.

"Right, spear gun." Ruth nodded. "I understand." She looked back to the stage, where Musashi, sadly, had not removed his pants. Nor had he fully removed his shirt, but was instead letting it hang open, perhaps as some form of psychological warfare. It was hard to tell, as Ruth wasn't a commentator for Fightball, but it looked like it might have been working, as the Bishoujeux dancers seemed to have slowed in their movements slightly.

Zetsurin lifted her foot onto the railing, as if preparing to leap off it. She winced suddenly, rubbing at her chest where the bullet had hit her. Ruth felt a surge of concern. Suppose that Zetsurin wasn't fully healed, and her wound suddenly opened up? It would be bad enough if she were to suddenly collapse, but it'd be even worse if it happened now, while Ruth was the only one in the room. She knew a bit of first aid, but chest wounds were something she wasn't confident in her ability to deal with.

"Are you quite alright? You were just shot, after all."

Zetsurin coughed once, clearing her throat. She wiped her mouth with her handkerchief, tucking it back in one of her billowing sleeves, but not fast enough for Ruth to miss the small bloodstain. She turned to the princess, and the fury dimmed, as if it had been put in the fridge to reheat later. She beamed a wide, reassuring smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"You don't need to worry about me, your highness. The potion healed me more than enough to get by. I've dealt with far worse injuries than that. If you'll excuse me..." She looked out to the stage, making ready to leap out into the air.

"Wait a moment, please," Ruth called out. The Merrow woman stopped, hesitantly, as if it had taken her great effort, and she was wondering whether she would regret it. She sighed and turned to face the princess, a less-convincing fake smile plastered on her face.

"Yes, your highness?"

"Could you... perhaps... leave the fighting to Musashi and Rathus? It's, well..." she looked out towards the stage, her eyes shimmering. "Well, you see, you are injured, after all, and I believe they have it well in hand. I... feel that it would be in everybody's interest if you were to allow them to handle the issue."

Zetsurin took her foot off of the balcony railing, turning to fully face the princess. She gestured out towards Regis with the spear, stabbing the point out into the air.

"Your highness, that man —my ex-business partner— just killed somebody in my bordello. MY bordello. Then he tried to frame me for murder, tried to frame one of my employees, and finished it off by shooting me in the chest."

She thumped her hand on her chest to emphasize, before waving dismissively. "All of that, I can forgive. For Adventurers, that's like a Tuesday. But because of WHO he murdered, he ruined any chance we had of keeping this place afloat."

The princess nodded in understanding. Musashi novels weren't the only things she read, after all, and that about lined up with her knowledge of Adventurers, which mostly came from slash fiction and pulpy action-romance novels.

"While I acknowledge that you are the princess, and a politely-worded request from you is tantamount to law, I must respectfully decline. I'm sure you know, but Adventurers like me have little respect for authority. And this is personal." She gave a quick and irreverent curtsy before stepping back onto the railing.

"Well," Ruth replied, "You may not respect authority, but you do respect money, do you not?"

Zetsurin halted in her tracks again, and the air crackled around her as she turned, hopping down from the railing and stepping up until she was level with the princess. The taller woman stared down at Ruth, who did her best to hide the instinctual fear the Madame's battle aura was causing her. Zetsurin took a deep breath, calming herself before speaking.

"The project to which I have dedicated years of my life is going up in flames, I've been betrayed by one of my closest friends, mortally wounded, and my stage is currently being trashed by a brawl that I'm not a part of, and you are trying to bribe me? Do you have any idea how much of an insult to my pride that is, your highness?"

Ruth flushed, averting her eyes. "I... my apologies. That was a crass way of putting it, I—"

"I didn't say I wasn't interested,"Zetsurin cut her off, setting the base of her spear on the ground. How much money are we talking, here?"

******

Rathus slowly circled around the Dwarf, who had casually folded his suit jacket over one arm, and was matching pace with the Gun Knight, such that the pair orbited around some unseen central point.

"It's been quite a long time since I had the opportunity to face another practitioner of the Art," Regis mused. He passed by a bit of collapsed and destroyed scenery which had fallen flat, and gave it new purpose as a table, setting his coat atop it.

"Tell me, at what school did you train?" he asked the Gun Knight.

Rathus glanced at the coat as he approached it, scanning it to make sure it hadn't been used to obscure a trap. His attention snapped back to the Harem Master. "I trained under Master Savage, of the House of the Rising Sun."

Regis snorted. "Ah, is that so? My mistake then. Here I thought you actually knew Puroreso. I didn't realize you had 'studied' at a non-Dwarf school."

The Gun Knight's expression darkened. He could abide insults directed at him, that sort of thing came with the territory of being in law enforcement after all. He could allow insults directed to the Empire; people had a right to voice their opinions on the government. But attacking Master Savage, and the House at which he had spent five years of his life? That was a step too far.

"What rope did you earn, in your..." The Dwarf gave a smug smirk, averting his eyes, " 'school?' "

"Top rope," Rathus replied instantly. The highest level of achievement possible in the ring of combat. The heat was rising up his neck now, and he found himself clenching his fists unconsciously.

"Ah, of course." Regis replied, "Then, if you had been training in a proper Dwarven school, you might have actually ranked as First Rope, if we're being charitable. Perhaps this fight won't be a total waste after all."

He wanted to snap back at Regis, but thought better of it. He couldn't afford to lose his cool here. It really had been a while since he'd fought somebody in Puroreso, if he was letting basic Heel tactics like trash-talking get to him. He ignored the pounding of the blood in his ears and forced a nonchalant shrug.

"Yeah? Well, if that's what you think, it's gonna be real embarrassing for you when ya lose."

Regis ducked into a low wrestling stance, arms above his head. "Come and show me, then!"

Rathus dashed forward to meet him. He dropped into his battle trance, the world slowing with each step he took. Regis was a Dwarf, which meant small, compact, and powerful. He'd have a hard time going for a submission grab right off the bat, and throws might be tricky. He should be able to overpower Regis, but considering raw strength was one of the main benefits of the Dwarven Gift, it wasn't a sure thing.

Better to wear him down, with strikes and special moves. He could outrange him, but a lot of his favored moves were aerials, and this stage didn't give a lot in the way of verticality. Unless...

Rathus suddenly turned at the last second, bypassing Regis, who lunged out to intercept the Gun Knight in a bear-hug grab and missed. Rathus dashed for the side of the stage, near the curtains. Backstage, a few of the stage crew looked up in horror as the Gun Knight barreled towards them. Rathus pulled out his revolver and shot at a rope moored to the ground. The bullet snapped the rope, and it began to zip into the air.

He leapt up, grabbing the rope in midair. The falling sandbag on the other end of the rope hauled him up, his feet swinging over the heads of the frightened crew. He reverse-absailed up the side of the girder, shoving against it to control his upwards trajectory. Down below, Regis dodged the sandbag, rolling to the side (workplace regulations require that sandbags always be placed above important characters such as villains or main characters, explicitly for this purpose).

"Is that sort of craven trick the thing they teach you about in your so-called schools?" he asked, rising to his feet. He withdrew a featherduster to dust off his knees, and looked up, as a sudden shadow blotted out the stagelights.

"Nah," Rathus replied, hurtling down towards him in a two-story elbow-drop. "This is, though."

He hit the Dwarf with the force of a freight train somebody had dropped off a building. The elbow strike drove the Dwarf into the stage, hard enough to completely shatter the protective Overlaid Name of Steel, and splinter the wooden boards. A massive cloud of sawdust billowed out from the impact site, and Rathus uneasily stood to his feet, shaking off some splinters. Had... he really just settled this in one hit?

A hand reached out and seized him by the ankle, gripping him with a vice-like strength that threatened to crush the joint. 'Ah, good,' Rathus thought to himself, as he was torn from his feet and lifted into the air. 'I would've been disappointed if it ended like that.'

Regis stood, shaking the Gun Knight like a whip, slamming Rathus into the ground, then hauling him back and up over his head, turning and slamming him into the ground once more. He hauled the Gun Knight in, dragging him along the ground by the ankle before seizing him by the waist and hauling him up, so that Rathus's head was between the Harem Master's knees. Regis jumped up into the air, getting an impressive four feet of vertical clearance before delivering a devastating piledriver, lifting his legs to drive Rathus head-first into the ground with the force of their combined weights.

Regis rolled slowly to his hands and knees, moving to place Rathus into a hold. As he reached out, Rathus spun away, twisting on his back like a breakdancer and delivering a kick across the Harem Master's cheek before spinning to his feet. As Regis staggered back, Rathus skipped towards him, delivering a rising knee to the Dwarf's nose with enough force to lift the dwarf clear off the ground.

The Gun Knight kept his leg lifted and pushed off with his back leg, leaping up to straddle the Dwarf's shoulders, as if a leapfrog attempt had gone tragically wrong. Rathus squeezed the Dwarf's head between his thighs and hoped he wasn't a biter, as his weight forced his already off-balance opponent flailing backwards. The Dwarf slammed backwards into the ground, ending with Rathus sitting on his chest. Rathus started to stand, when a pair of legs hooked under his armpits from behind. Regis had curled up and latched his legs under the Gun Knight's arms. The Harem Master dropped his legs back to a straight position, hauling Rathus backwards and sending him hurling through the air.

Rathus twisted in midair to land in a three-point landing, feet and a single hand skidding across the stage as he balanced himself in his crouch. Across the stage, Regis had stood, and was casually dusting his shirt off, looking largely unaffected. He looked up at the Gun Knight, tossing the featherduster to the side with a shake of his head.

"Inadequate," was all he said. Rathus growled, and charged towards him once more.

******

On the other side of the stage, Musashi was keeping himself busy. One of the dancers swung her leg up in a practiced, deadly can-can kick. Musashi tilted his head back, arching backwards to dodge the blow. A second dancer caught his attention from the corner of his eye, as she delivered a flying kick. He continued arching backwards, curving with the grace of a cat and the flexibility of a drunken cat to first place his hands on the ground behind him, then roll backwards entirely, back arching like a crescent moon.

He ended in a pushup position, as the dancer's kick took her soaring clean overhead. Another assailant ducked low, aiming a sweep kick at his head. He push up'd, with enough force that he launched himself clean off the ground, clapping once in midair just for the hell of it. The leg passed harmlessly beneath him, and he clasped her ankle between his feet as he fell back to earth. He performed a death roll like the male-model equivalent of a crocodile and spun her off her feet, twisting her by the leg to send her spiraling through the air.

He released her and continued to roll as he passed under a line of dancers, each raising their legs high before dropping their heels in a synchronized wave. Steel-reinforced soles struck the stage inches behind him. He was evading each in turn, but they were slowly catching up. The last dancer's kick struck home, catching him with a tooth-chattering blow directly between the shoulder-blades. She leaned forwards, putting most of her weight on the Gun Knight, pinning him to the ground beneath one fishnet-stockinged leg. Musashi sighed.

"A rare opportunity, but I'm afraid I don't have the time to enjoy this," he apologized. He pressed his hands to the ground, using his superhuman strength to simply spring to his feet as if she wasn't even there. As a consequence, the force of the motion launched her as if she had stepped onto a convenient neighborhood teeter-totter, and some maniac had just dropped a fucking anvil out of a window onto the other end. She fell backwards into a conveniently-placed pile of cardboard boxes, sending them scattering everywhere.

Musashi turned and blocked a wild kick to the face. The dancer before him spun on one foot, bobbing up and down in time with the music, to deliver another snap-kick as her rotation turned to meet him. A quick sweep of the hand blocked it, and he spun to the left, to block another snap-kick from a similarly-rotating dancer a beat later. He rotated in time to the music, to block a third kick, and found himself fenced in on all sides by dancers. The mood swept him up and he grinned, rotating in time to the music to block each blow as it came. He winked at one of the battle dancers.

"In two measures, it's my turn, so you'd better prepare yourselves," He continued his rhythmic blocking, until the music rose, causing all four dancers to spin rapidly and kick at once. He dropped below their attacks and tore his shirt off entirely, as their feet met in the center. He thrust his hands upward, and quickly bound their feet together with his shirt, tying it tightly.

Still in the center of a sudden tent made by the flowing skirts of the dancers, he took a second while they struggled to free themselves to catch his breath, and admire the view. Then, he stood, grabbing them by their communal ankle and lifting them overhead with one hand. Their back feet dangled in the air, but they exercised Dwarven-trained core body strength and consummate professionalism by keeping their torsos held upright. Musashi glanced past one of them, to see the other dancers coming to assist. Keeping time with the music, the Gun Knight began to spin on the spot, using his Law-augmented strength to begin twirling the dancers above him like a carousel.

Their legs flowed out instinctively, becoming a whirling dervish of blows as he picked up speed. The frenzied blows sent the attacking dancers staggering back, lest they fall victim to the fate of being kicked over and over again. The girls above him leaned forwards against the centrifugal force, hands reaching for the shirt binding their feet together. Musashi lifted his other hand and stopped in place, continuing to spin them hand over hand like a baton. Two dancers, catching on to the weaponization of their peers, rolled under the deadly spinning leg-blades, flanking Musashi on either side as they rose to a crouch, hands raising up in a boxer's pose.

"Ah, good timing," Musashi noted. "Here. Hold this." So saying, he tossed the bound dancers and ducked backwards, rolling under their spinning legs before they fell in a heap, trapping the two dancers beneath in a pile of intertwined limbs and skirts.

"Six more down," Musashi counted, dusting off his hands. "And two previously. So out of the twelve total, that should leave..." he turned to the rest of the dancers, who had assembled into a battle dance-line, 6 strong. The Gun Knight frowned. "Odd. I must be worse at math than I expected."

He glanced over at the sad remnants of cardboard boxes, where he had recently hurled one of his assailants. It was shockingly dancerless. He shouldn't have been surprised, perhaps, because it's not as if being thrown into a pile of boxes knocked you out, but it didn't keep him from being disappointed. He looked around the stage and something caught his eye. He extended one arm out casually to the side, shifting his angle with a few half-steps.

Rathus, hurled back from a blow Regis had struck, staggered backwards across the stage while trying to get his feet back under him. He slid directly into Musashi's waiting arm, sagging suddenly with the unexpected impact and halting of his momentum. Musashi, with his arm already around his friend's shoulder, leaned in, whispering to Rathus in a low voice.

"Having trouble, are we?"

The older Gun Knight wiped at his mouth, and was vaguely disappointed to find that he wasn't bleeding. That sort of thing really sold a comeback in a fight. He pushed himself to his feet, using Musashi's shoulder for support.

"He's pretty tough," Rathus admitted, looking around at Musashi's fight. The pile of dancers had managed to untie their feet, and were helping each other up. Musashi followed Rathus's gaze and scowled.

"Oh, come on. You don't even have the decency to stay down?" he complained, mostly to himself.

Rathus snorted as he dusted his arms off. "Don't you think it might go a bit better if you, y'know... hit them?" he asked.

Musashi looked at him as if he'd just suggested that adding ham to macaroni and cheese made it a carbonara. "Hit a girl? Listen to yourself, Rathus."

"You've hit plenty of girls, Musashi," Rathus replied, unimpressed. "Remember that gang of Walpurg bank robbers? That was about twenty girls. You hit them plenty."

Musashi waved him off, casually deflecting a roundhouse kick with the same gesture. "Those were criminals, Rathus, and they were trying to kill us. It's different."

"You sure these ones aren't tryin' ta kill you too?"

Musashi cocked his head at him, as one of the dancers broke a two-by-four over the back of his head. "What makes you think that?"

"Well," Rathus considered, "they're attacking you right now."

Musashi seemed unconvinced. "I don't think that means they're trying to kill us, though." He turned to the dancers. "Are you trying to kill us?"

The dancers hesitated, unsure. They looked to Regis, who was busy talking to an extremely harried-looking stage manager. He looked over his shoulder and waved them off. "I don't think it's necessary to go that far. You just need to distract them long enough for me to escape." His eyes widened. "Ah, I knew I was forgetting something."

"Well, there you go!" Musashi smiled. "And besides, there's no need to hit them when I can simply disable them with a smile."

He stepped back as one of the dancers lunged at him, and grabbed her, twirling her into a low dip, one hand around her waist, and the other hand trailing his fingertips up the side of her neck. He shook his head, sending a few expertly-selected stray hairs flowing in the indoor wind. His eyes sparked, and he fixed her with a smoldering smile, sizzling slowly before the full force of it ignited, bathing the ballroom in proverbial radiance. Even the princess was affected, from all the way up in her balcony seating, sending her slamming back into her chair, and bending the spine of her book in her grip.

Musashi gently set the dancer down. She was completely unconscious, a look of joy and confusion across her face. Musashi stood and turned, causing the remaining battle dancers to take a step back in fear.

Rathus looked down at the unconscious can-can combatant, then up at Musashi. He'd taught Musashi that technique, which was passed down to him from Master Savage, who in turn had it passed down to him from his own teacher, and so on. He couldn't help but smirk at the fact that Musashi had deployed it so expertly. It would have never have occurred to Rathus to hide the Sultan King's Paralyzer Neck Pinch in some kind of serenade bullshit, but he could approve of the theatrics, at least.

Musashi paced across the stage, while the Bishoujeux dancers high-stepped cautiously away from him, performing for the audience while waiting to see his next move. One of the dancers took the opportunity to lunge at Rathus, sending an experimental jab out to his face. He raised his arm, deflecting her fist with the back of his hand before catching it and twirling her in to a closed position.

"Nah, I'm fighting Regis," he explained. "Musashi's the one fighting you ladies."

She blinked at him, suddenly apologetic. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize."

He shook his head, smiling, before he twirled her out, sending her back towards the rest of the dancers. "Don't worry about it."

He looked back to his own quarry, who was calmly walking for the backstage, coat slung over his shoulder.

"That's the Dwarven way, is it?" Rathus called out. "Talk big business, then skitter off while they're distracted?"

Regis froze in his tracks. He handed his coat to the stage manager, and turned to face Rathus. His eyes were glowing, red-hot as if there were molten metal flowing just beneath the surface. He lifted his arm and reached across with his other hand, gripping the sleeve of his shirt, and pulling off his shirt with one swift movement, tossing it aside. He lifted his hand, signaling the stage crew, who immediately sprang to action, hurrying backstage. Rathus strode forward to meet him. A rushing stagehand began to cart out a set of steel steps, setting them in front of Rathus. He stepped onto them, then up onto a foam and canvas-padded stage that was quickly slid out from backstage.

Regis stepped up on the other side, as stagehands quickly fixed four posts in the corners of the raised stage, and started setting up turnbuckles and ropes, swiftly closing Regis and Rathus into an impromptu Puroreso ring. Rathus shrugged off his jacket and his belt, wrapping the latter in the former and setting his hat on top. He tucked them Somewhere Convenient. It was a bit of a frivolous use, but sometimes, as Ruth was prone to say, it was about the principle of the matter.

Regis stepped into the center of the ring, steam rising from his shoulders. Beneath his finely-tailored suit, the Dwarf's body was a cris-crossing of scars, marring a body that bulged with muscles to such an extent that his muscles seemed to have muscles of their own. A tattoo marked the back of his Liefield-esque physique, a silver dining tray and lid, held by a hand in front of a background of flames. Words surrounded the dish, declaring "SERVE OR GET SERVED."

"You're eager for a beating, young Rathus. You're a Gun Knight. You've gone through their training, I assume, so you must have at least a passing familiarity with how a Dwarven forging works."

Rathus thought back to his boot camp training. It had been grueling, even considering the fact that he'd spent the previous five years suplexing boulders and training with martial arts masters in the mountains.

"Tell me, then," Regis commanded, his voice echoing as his skin began to glow slightly, and smoke began to pour from his nose and ears in thin strands, "what it means to you, for somebody such as me to be TRIPLE-FORGED."

Regis growled, slamming his foot down as he Manifested the Gift of Passion, the Gift of the Dwarves. His eyes blazed, and sparked suddenly, as if something had ignited within the Harem Master. That 'something' turned out to be his head, as Regis's hair and beard suddenly unfurled, erupting into bright orange flames that streaked behind him. In his chest, his heart suddenly became visible, glowing a bright orange that spread through his veins. Color traced its way across his body, lighting up his circulatory system as the Gift of Fire within him raged. He stepped forward, smoke puffing out of his mouth with every breath.

The Dwarf raised his hand, signaling the orchestra, and the music began to pick up. He stepped towards Rathus, radiating with heat and power that scorched the surface of the ring. He grinned a smile at the Gun Knight, eyes blazing with fury and raw power.

"Let me show you EXACTLY what it means."