Hanzo slowly regained consciousness. He was staring at a blurry object hanging from a ceiling of some sort.

Common sense told him that it must have been a fan. It was a fan.

A rather nice antique. He spent some time examining the details to help improve his vision.

There was another blurry image in his peripheral. A woman, or rather, a girl.

He didn’t know her but she did seem a little familiar.

Am I back home? He wondered.

“What are you looking at?” Naomi growled.

Hanzo squinted a few times until he saw her clearly.

She was sitting beside his bed, legs crossed with a pair of scissors in her hand.

He flared in alarm and tried to thrash out of bed but a searing pain shot through his chest and he fell back down.

He wanted to grab at the pain but his wrists were tied to the bed.

“What did you do to me?” He huffed.

“I took your organs.” She replied, flexing the scissors.

Hanzo felt sicker than he already was but he tried not to show it. No she didn’t. She’s just trying to intimidate me. Oldest trick in the book.

She uncrossed her legs and leaned over him with a contemptuous stare.

He stared back with premeditated vengeance as the scissor blades closed around his ear.

A grin began to spread across his face. “That’s why you have a butt chin.” He said.

And then the scissors split his ear open.

“Aaagh!!” He screamed.

“And that’s why you suck at fighting.” Naomi stood up sharply, knocking the chair over.

She tossed the scissors into the metal tray on the desk and walked out of the infirmary blasting the door open.

The spring jerked the door shut with a bang.

Hanzo popped the zip ties and clutched his bleeding ear.

“Crazy witch!!” He seethed.

As he sat up, he looked around, realizing where he was and found himself swathed in bandages.

He tore them open to look at the wounds on his chest. They weren’t as deep as he thought.

There was also a nice gash across his jaw.

It was daubed with an oily substance. Some kind of healing ointment.

Shaking his head, he stood up and searched the room for his sword. He found it underneath the bed and buckled the harness around his torso as he stepped outdoors bracing himself for a likely ambush.

Everything was quiet but the ocean breeze.

He stayed put, gripping the hilt of his sword.

Nothing happened.

Several homicidal thoughts lit his soul on fire but the likely outcome of acting upon them weren’t as desirable as going back to sleep.

He went back inside and didn’t come out for the next few hours.

The comfort of the bed induced a myriad of dreams. One of which he was home again.

Another convinced him that he was imprisoned on a desolate island for committing a heinous crime. As the lucid realms evaporated, he opened his eyes.

He lay on his chest with one arm dangling to the floor. His cheek was wet with drool and so was the pillow.

It took him minutes of staring at the wall before he even attempted to get up and that’s when he knew he had a damn good sleep.

It was still quiet, thankfully.

He sat straight and smeared his face with his palms, then he rearmed and ambled outdoors for the second time.

The sun was low in the afternoon. The shadows were long and the frothy clouds were steeped in a buttery orange.

It was quite a different world than a few hours earlier.

He descended the short flight of stairs and reclaimed his spot on the beach.

Everything seemed much simpler when most of his thoughts were stagnant after awakening.

Less impulse to overthink things.

He looked to his far left and saw Naomi in the distance.

She was doing something. Probably practicing her skills.

He closed his eyes and banished the image, returning to his own vista.

He lifted his hands and tried to grasp the sweeping tide with his essence.

With time and concentration, he succeeded in obtaining a mediocre sized orb but by the time he started to progress any further, the sun was just a sliver of red in the horizon.

The creeping darkness set for an even moodier tone. The sky and sea seemed to reflect each other except for an unusual bioluminescence Hanzo saw in the folding waves.

“Seems like you enjoy it here.” Odyssey observed.

Hanzo snatched his sword and spun around. “What the—?!”

The titan was nearly camouflaged with the forest but his towering mass could be outlined.

“Do you have to sneak up on me like that??!” Hanzo bristled.

“It doesn’t take much for me to level this island if that’s what you would prefer to see.”

Hanzo was stupefied by the response and dropped the defensive stance.

“How long were you standing there?” He asked.

“Long enough. Are you ready for tonight?”

“No. I’m not. I don’t even know what I’m doing.”

“You’re going to Skerratic to obtain a book titled, The House of Swords from the city’s library.”

Hanzo furrowed his brow. “That’s it?”

“Yes, but it depends on your ability to complete the task.”

“Well, it sounds easy to me. What’s the book about?”

“Swords, obviously.”

“What kinds of swords, fool?”

Odyssey turned and walked into the trees. “You should try reading it.”

The giant seemed to vanish altogether and Hanzo was bewildered.

Yet, the longer he stared into the foreboding shadows the more he felt the lingering presence within.

This place is weird as hell. He thought, following Odyssey’s vanishing footsteps.

He walked through the woods, feeling no discernible change in the atmosphere and assumed that he was heading back toward the infirmary.

Suddenly, his foot slipped and he plunged down a steep incline.

Shock stole his voice until he crashed through a series of branches and slid down a bed of rocks, bowling into a tree.

“Gaaahh!!” He screamed.

He heard the solid clumps clattering downhill and felt a dozen batter his face.

“Keep your voice down.” Odyssey remarked.

He sat upon a large stone observing the glittering cityscape in the distance.

“Keep my voice down??!!” Hanzo panted furiously. “Are you serious?!”

“Should have watched your step. Now, get it together. We’re here.”

Hanzo dusted himself off, frisked his jacket and looked in every direction trying to identify what city this fool was talking about.

He saw the lights flickering beyond the shadows of trees and heard some sort of industrial sounds although they were faint. The owls and crickets were much louder.

“Okay??” He breathed. “So you want me to walk over there??”

Odyssey felt no reason to reply.

Seeing that the giant would entertain no further conversation, Hanzo decided to cautiously make his way down the stone slope.

It was difficult to see clearly but he was good at using his soles to map the terrain so long as it didn’t rapidly change without warning.

Before long, he was on flat ground looking up at the steep hillside he’d descended.

The shadows were many but the stars could guide.

He trekked on, keeping a steady grip on this hilt of his sword.

And then he came upon a road with a peculiar archway riddled with graffiti that he could not read.

He followed the road that led him to a pointless cul-de-sac with a couple of benches encompassing a monumental stone sword. Annoyed, he ignored the area and cut through the woods until he finally reached what he considered the start of urbane geography.

A composition of streetlights penetrated the dark as he drew near the top edge of a curved brick wall.

Below stood a glistening fountain with some people hanging out around it.

Farther down were rows upon rows of indistinct buildings encompassing a greater conurbation juxtaposed against the ashen horizon.

Hanzo felt relief wash over him as he absorbed the view.

He dropped down from the ledge, warranting a few sudden looks and realized he wasn’t the most presentable looking guy in comparison to the locals.

The lot of them were casually dressed, maybe with a few fragments of cosmetic armor but nothing more.

Fortunately, the folks weren’t so bothered by his presence and resumed their evening together with friends and spouses or just by themselves.

Hanzo tread down a wide staircase and into the streets shuffling through his pockets for change to buy some food.

He found a vendor a few blocks down and bought a can of sardines with the last bit of money he had.

It was almost a surprise he had any left at all.

It made him consider finding some work instead of proceeding with this stupid mission.

He couldn’t find any merit in it unless Odyssey would compensate him.

He decided to just keep walking and let the busy environment of Skerratic entertain him.

The streets were blessed with an array of ordinary folk, merchants, and peddlers, vendors, restaurants and pubs.

Hanzo caught himself marveling at some of the weapons on display, losing his attention when he nearly bumped into an oncoming fellow in a hurry to get somewhere.

He watched him dive into his car and drive off in a swerving frenzy.

“Hey pal!” Hanzo switched his attention to a shady looking guy standing by a narrow alley full of some rowdy kids chucking a ball around.

“What’s up?” Hanzo answered.

The guy hunched and checked his surroundings. “You wanna’ buy a watch?”

Hanzo looked at his wrists, realizing he could actually use a good watch for himself.

“Ain’t got no money.”

“Aw, come on pal,” the shady guy insisted, “Ain’t nothing wrong with spending a little extra cash.”

“Yeah, but--”

“I’ll tell you what…” the guy said, opening the flap of his overcoat. Hanzo furrowed his brow. This man didn’t just have watches. His pockets were lined with all sorts of daggers and dirks, not to mention potions, powders and pills.

“Are those…” Hanzo squinted. He heard the shattering of glass as one of the kids blew a window out.

“Whatcha’ got your eye on, champ?” The guy said.

“Are those Soldier pills?”

The man slipped a small metallic case out of one of his many pouches and flashed the famous insignia.

“These are the real deal, man.” The peddler’s voice was almost a whisper. “I tried one of them on the neighbor’s dog and that sucker snapped his chain and bucked into the woods howling, never to be seen again.”

Hanzo took the case and opened it. He found two spheres the size of large marbles. One was a powdery black with white fragmented swirls and the other was a variation of that.

“Tell you what,” the seller added. “I’ll go as low as 50 for you, since you’re such a great guy.”

It was Hanzo’s turn to look around suspiciously. He closed the capsule and handed it back.

“Nah, I’m good. I’m broke anyways.”

The guy’s enthusiasm fell. “You sure, pal? Okay, how about 49?”

“Yeah, um...do you know where the library is by any chance?”

“The library?”

“Yes, the library.”

“Oh, you’re probably talking about the Machridian. Head down this street right behind you and don’t stop until you see a sign for Machridian Way. Take that right and the library will present itself to you.”

“Okay, thanks.” Hanzo said and began heading that direction.

He crossed the street in a jiffy, ignoring all the honking vehicles.

Meanwhile, the destination he sought was occupied by a man in black warrior raiments.

His blade was long and mighty, gripped by leather straps and steel buckles. He was reading, standing in the center of the room with two gigantic bookshelves circumventing him.

The grand chandelier above sprinkled his shoulders with a mesmerising floral pattern that spread all over the floor as well.

In his hand, he held a book titled, The House of Swords.

He examined each letter and illustration with sophisticated novelty, leafing through the pages with his thumb.

Outside, the streets were plugged with police, concentrating their rifles on the library entrance.

An officer in a bronze helmet barked through a loudspeaker with unyeilding courage.

“We have you surrounded, vagrant!! Come out with your hands where I can see them!!”

He may as well have been shouting at the library itself.

“Um, chief.” A voice beside him cleared his throat. It was Wisconsin, the officer who insisted on bringing a gatling gun on duty. “I don’t think anyone’s in there. He probably left.”

“Goddamn you, Wisconsin. If you have nothing intelligent to say, cram your piehole and get to the rear like I told you to!!”

“But shouldn’t the sabremen be in the rear, chief? It gives us gunners somethin’ to aim at better.”

“Be quiet!!” The chief roared. He marched up the marble staircase with valor in his lungs and bellowed at the opened slabs that lead into uncertain darkness.

“I know you’re in there, boy!! Come out with your hands up!!”

Wisconsin sighed. This was a waste of time. The guy wasn’t coming out.

He’d probably gotten away already.

Suddenly, he had an idea. He scrambled up the staircase lugging his machine gun, almost tripping before he reached the monumental entrance.

The chief yelped in alarm as his wayward subordinate started spraying rounds like a crazed maniac.

“SAY HELLO TO SWISS CHEESE, YA’ ROCK SMOKING BASTARD!” Wisconsin’s voice nearly overtook the deafening sound of rapid gunfire shredding through what could only have been books and shelves.

When he was finally done, he wiped his forehead in relief. “Well, that oughta’ do the trick!”

“Wisconsin....” The chief trembled with fury. “YOU BLOCKHEADED, STEAMING PILE OF SCUM!! I SHOULD CHARGE YOU FOR DAMAGING CITY PROPERTY!!”

He released his saber and whacked Wisconsin in the skull with the blunt side of it.

The fool staggered downstairs holding his temple and slinked back into formation.

The chief blabbered indignantly to himself and forgot who he was and what he was doing as his rage subsided.

“Don’t worry about the damage…” a foreign voice caught the chief’s ears by surprise. “He didn’t really shoot anything of value.”

The officer jumped back into a combative stance, gripping his sword with menace. The rogue stood before him, collar popped and all.

“Stand down, rogue!” He roared, “I, chief Reynolds, will not allow you to desecrate this city any longer!!”

The rogue regarded him loosely and kept walking, patting the officer’s shoulder as he passed.

The seasoned police chief tried to attack but found his body unwilling to listen. Was it fear? No. He told himself. I must commit to my duty. I am not afraid of this steel swinging scoundrel!

He whirled around, attempting a flawless decapitation.

The rogue hardly turned and the blade struck the hilt of his sword with a bang. Before Reynolds could comprehend his misstep, the warrior gripped his uniform and jolted him into the air.

The officers below opened fire. The warrior broke his sword free and swatted a number of rounds with uncanny precision and then phased into the horde of police. In mere seconds, dozens of bodies were thrown into the air.

Chief Reynolds came hurtling back down, screaming. A few of his men tried to catch him but the rogue blew them aside and caught Reynolds by his ankle and hurled him into another crowd of oncoming officers. Wisconsin opened fire a second time, renewing his confidence.

Horror set him ablaze as he realized bullets were plowing through his comrades instead.

A heavy kick to his skull knocked his lights out in an instant. He was unaware of his own body tumbling across the concrete.

“Kill that bastard with all you’ve got!!!” Reynolds hollered.

The warrior’s blade glistened as it danced, shearing the flesh of any who dared to close the distance.

Gunfire pelted concrete, ricocheting, catching no target.

Blood and limbs were flying about. Casualties cried out in agony, falling into despondency. Reynolds picked up a rifle and started shooting at the man-phantom with the best marksmanship he could offer.

“Chief, look out!!”

Reynold’s looked up to see a police car hurtling toward him. He wailed in surprise and shot the vehicle as if that would stop it from slamming into him and crushing him underneath.

“Bastard!!” An officer cried.

“Charge him all at once!!” wailed another. The midnight blue outfits rushed the warrior with bayonets and swords aimed at him like pikes. It all happened quicker than it seemed.

Flashes of red and blue washed over the battlefield. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of lightning eject from one of the officer’s palms. It snaked toward him, crackling and buzzing.

The rogue sidestepped the blinding whip with a pirouetting somersault and slammed his sword into the ground.

The concrete exploded into shards of stone impaling dozens of officers.

Those who were lucky enough to merely collapse from the sudden earthquake saw the carnage and either fled the scene or tried to go toe to toe with the man who killed their comrades which of course got them cut down.

Reynolds saw a rocky spike shoot through the car he was trapped under, grateful that it hadn’t pierced him. He tried with all his strength to eject the stubborn hunk of metal off of him but he could only make it rock ever so slightly.

It didn’t help that his eyeballs were being dyed purple by the car’s oscillating light beam.

The damn vehicle shouldn’t have been so heavy. With the long spike jutting out of it, he had no chance of moving it further than a smidge.

“H-Help!” He cried.

Moments later Wisconsin came to the rescue. “I gotcha’ chief!”

The guy squatted in front of the overturned vehicle and pulled with all the strength he could muster. He could feel the veins in his neck bulging..

“Lift with your back, Wisconsin! Not your legs!!” The chief croaked.

“I’m trying!” Wisconsin wheezed.

“Just forget it! Go in the trunk and get the jacker out! It’s the only way to lift this stupid hunk of metal!”

The officer abandoned his futile efforts and rushed to the rear and pried at the trunk with a sword.

After much effort, it finally popped open. He scrambled through an assortment of guns, vests and armor until he found a mechanism with a bar attached.

He brought it back to the chief and jammed it underneath the car’s frame. He set the bar in place and struck it with a small hammer.

The jacker popped up with a deafening bang and the frame caved in, allowing Reynolds to wriggle free.

“Gahh, my ears!!” Wisconsin yelped, dropping the bar.

“Well, you’re not completely useless!” The chief rasped. “Come on!!”

The two officers scrambled through pointed tombstones and casualties to find the rogue bastard. He was to the left, past the carnage, standing between the police barricade they’d set with his back facing them, surrounded in flames.

The warrior was looking at something out on the street, neither man knew what.

It was the perfect chance to put one in his head. Chief Reynolds drew his pistol and aimed squarely for the dark warrior’s skull.

The target glanced back at Reynolds as if he were an alley cat jumping out of a trash bin and went back to observing whatever intrigued him.

Reynolds lowered his gun.

“What’s wrong, chief?” Wisconsin fidgeted. “Why don’t you shoot him?”

The chief gulped. “It’s Ultimate Soldier.”

The air suddenly became heavy and abrasive. Reynolds and Wisconsin felt themselves sinking to the ground, like their knees wanted to give out.

“All units stand down.” Reynolds breathed into his radio. “This ain’t our fight anymore.”

“It never was.” The rogue chuckled.