The man sat pokerfaced, gray eyes cast over the field before him. He slowly took in the vast array of colors, the fresh scents of the flora, the sounds of chirping birds. An exasperated shy, blowing bangs out of his face.


"I quit." Those were the first words Hanzo had spoken in weeks. Like a stone gargoyle, he perched unmoving on a ledge, nothing escaping his unblinking gaze. The sprouting plants and budding trees gave him a sense of imminence, new life was coming. That alone made him sick. Every blossom, cub, pup, hatchling... all the offspring only contributed to his lust to kill.


He could endure a certain ambivalent relationship for so long before he went to his original ways, he had usually got what he had wanted. His fingers twitched at his waist, breaking the stillness as his hands longed for the handle of his scythe. How he craved to kill once more, uninhibited by human ethics. A spark of realization lit up his face. The West End. Many a time he had heard of the cruel, savage murders committed there, often with little or no progress on finding the offender.


The malicious smirk was too much to contain. It wasn't beyond him to commit a heinous murder then blame it on the innocent child next to him, but the West End held a limitless amount of potential candidates. That, combined with his experience in killing and deception, he wouldn't even arouse a suspicion for eons. But a discrete kill was the last thing on his mind, no... He wanted to prove to the world that the quickest way to a man's heart is not through his stomach, but through his rib cage. Who knows? Perhaps he'd meet one of his more notorious scapegoats. But the primary thought on his mind was kill, kill, kill.




But what caused such an abrupt change? Surely the approaching equinox didn?t bring him this much grief. In the back of his mind, he was curious what brought along the malevolent metamorphosis as well. In attempt to find out, he closed his eyes, oblivious to the world around him. He already knew Charna was a primary factor. She held his emotions in her hand like a puppeteer, Hanzo being her faithful marionette.


Oh, how foolish he was to think that the relationship they shared would be anything further than platonic! The fact that he couldn?t let it go burned as his soul like acid, leaving nothing promising behind. Of course, the most prominent hindrance was her fianc?e, Rory. The only thing that kept him from killing the articulately handicapped ?cowboy? before was the regard for Vixen?s emotions? that and the utter disdain for his guns. He could recall many nights where he finally felt at ease talking to her, only to have Rory to come in without fail. Their PDA often chased him out of the Inn, something he?d never thought would happen. That made him uncomfortable, something no one likes to be.


No more did he try to think of reasons of why the killer had awoke in him, but now he was thinking of ways of trying to satiate his unholy hunger.

"The list is too... extensive, to casually talk about to some stranger." He didn't care about subtly, his hand obviously went for his weapon. He had a bounty or ten on his head, and he knew some bounty hunters could trade him to Rhy'Din. Perhaps this unwelcomed presence would be the first among an unknown multitude of victims. For now, his fingers just lightly clutched the handle of his scythe.


"Just know, there will be a lot of pandemonium soon. Who knows? Perhaps I'll be the cause of it." His voice was soft, a technique used to draw the listener closer. "And for damned sure, I'll make sure anyone who tries to stop me from indulging in this... act... will regret they ever set eyes on me. Any form of law enforcement this city has, groups that stand for justice.. anyone will be cut down in cold blood."


He turned only slightly, observing the woman in his periphery. Gray eyes of fathomless depths were unpredictable, an impassive front was put up to guard his expressions. Hanzo turned to look her eye to eye, the small blade in plain sight. "And tell me, oh lovely one , what keeps me from swinging at you with this here scythe, knocking your head off your shoulders. I do not show kindness as much as I have in the past, especially to those who infringe on my solitude." A smirk as he contemplated the thought, it seemed much like the sport golf.

Aren't you friends with those Scathachian whores? Those six words took priority over everything else she said and did. He contemplated how to go about answering that.

"I suppose.. you could say that. But if they interfere.. they'll either move out the way quietly or the Oracle will have quite a few people in their obituary. That promise doesn't just apply to them, either."

His eyes were malevolent, but the smirk played across his lips negated that.

Hanzo really began to contemplate if he would go against Issy and crew, he knew they were just as, if not more, proficient in fighting and killing as he was. A sly grin took residence on his lips.


"If your boss disapproves against.. justice, then that'd make her my prime canidate for the person who's running around and commiting all these murders... and the talent she's seeking is someone who can help her bring chaos... well, more chaos into Rhy'Din by going against the Scaths. I'm correct, am I not?" Hanzo wasn't just some brainless, incompetent murderer. The mere thought of it caused him to go silent for about.. ten seconds before he nodded in agreement.


"Please, introduce me to this boss of yours. My name is Hanzo... for now I refuse to tell my last name. Please don't be offended, it's an insecurity problem." He snickered quietly, removing his hands from his scythe. Finally, he gave her an expectant look, as if to say ; Lead the way.

He quietly mused over what she said. She made a valid point; he did presume far too much. Here's my ass, kiss it. One of these days he was going to remove her tongue by that stud of hers, but for now he followed her back to this woman boss of hers, he could only wonder what she'd be like. He knew whoever this woman was, she was above the average criminal by far.

The night breeze was suddenly quite chilled.....it was as though Death itself had languidly dropped a frozen cube of ice into his gruesome drink.

The large Cemetery was devoid of any other activity this eve.......any activity perpetrated by the living, that is. Nocent was quite certain that the watchful, hungry eyes of the dead were sharply fixed upon her as she indolently laid upon one of the longer marble tombs located within an aged crypt. She was afterall, a Priestess of Night......she cared not for the wants of the living......nor the dead.

Her loyal ally and partner, the fiendish and oh so delicious undead queen Dracina Hemdagg, was off on a little jaunt to further torture the foolish Scathachians and their idiotic allies. Sadistically toying with them...their families.....their friends.....their fragile emotions..........f*****g uproarious. All of Hell was greatly amused.....for Nocent's wildcat, Dracina, did adore torturing her various playthings.

And what of Good Lord Pharagos? They would all soon see what malicious mischief he was up to........he and his winged nightmarish horde all bearing death-glazed eyes, menacingly sharpened claws and ravenous teeth.

Things were proceeding well........quite well indeed.

As Giminicka lie there, her twisted mind gave way to reminiscing on the wondrous slaughter of the steed and friends of that sanctimonious bastard Ewan Corinsson............on how close she had come to massacring the bitch Jewell Ravenlock's hapless, little daughter.............and even on the bleak state of perpetual unrest at the hallowed Scathachian Sanctuary, which she and her demonic cabal were steadily fueling with blood and terror. Each face she saw in her mind.....she dissected.......split........and mutilated.
All of them..................from the brooding Isuelt to the promiscuous 'Empress' Jewell......to ALL of the Scathachian Sisters, indeed every last one of those filthy whores.......then down to that pompous Ravenlock bastard who was f*****g one of the sluts of justice .......the nosey barrister Mallorek and that unseen powerful mistress of his named 'Skye'...........little Illea's estranged lover from Metro City........the fool D'Mourir and his gaggle of bitches........and that sweet slice of innocent meat Erin Dunbridge ........oh, this sordid list went on and on. No worry, plenty of time to taste all of their bloody entrails.

Such thoughts......

Wait.......Her attention was unexpectedly seized by a distant noise.

She heard Krysira approaching........her footsteps were always quite distinct........so brisk and harried.

Giminicka had wrestled with the gruesome idea of raping and butchering this lanky lass nearly a month ago.........but that was before her recent visions. The savagely mangled corpses suspended from the "Red Wall", deep within the sublevel of The IronHelm Flats, had told her distinctly that for now, Krysira Clayborne should live........live and be watched over.

Nocent was at first disappointed by this information.......she was so looking forward to violating her tattooed envoy and then feasting on her freshly peeled flesh. Delectable it would have been.....suckling on that wet tongue stud as she tore through Krysira's fragile body parts. The reasoning shown to her was sound however......the lucid revelations perpetuated by the unearthly ambassadors of Hell. With each twitch of their bloodied lips and with each hollow glower from their grisly, empty eye sockets......Nocent became more convinced that they spoke the divine truth of her dark lord. Consequently, after this deep dialogue with the decomposing cadavers transpired, Giminicka's fondness for the tricky little thief had grown..........no longer did she simply look upon her as dangling prey awaiting her famished jaws.......

A story for another time.

The rushed footsteps grew closer. Charming little Krysira was not alone.

Good girl.

Krysira had been quite obedient......for she had faithfully brought Giminicka's next target back to her as instructed. "Target" was an interesting word choice, for the young man accompanying Krysira was someone whose very livelihood was based on the identification and zealous extermination of "targets". Nocent abruptly sat straight up like a ghoulish, reanimated corpse rising from its shallow grave......she keenly listened as though waiting for incoming prey......her cold eyes did not blink.

Though Giminicka absently fondled a razor-sharp chakrum in her strong hands.....be not deceived of her intent. Krysira was not bringing her a victim......no. The envoy from Guller's Creek was dispatched to fetch for her mistress a new "card". Undeniably, the voracious appetites of her Lord were always escalating, and He now desired another new face card for His malevolent and abominable deck of evil. Cards.....players.......and this loathsome deck which was strategically being stacked against the Scathachian Nation, their loyal allies, and those loners with the inborn notion that justice and amity were owed to all sentient beings.

Krysira had fetched for Nocent a "Jack". A highly skilled assassin whose bitter envy and personal self-doubt would be the insignia of his damnation as well as of his nefarious seat of power and glory. Lost in the anarchic mist of both his entitled destiny and his murderous profession, this disciplined killer was now being consumed by pure resentment.

Desire.......jealousy........fear........hate. Naturally, this young, talented warrior was a perfect choice to ally with the cruel Temple's new helllish order. Lord Bhaal had hungrily whispered his "card" choice to his devoted Priestess, Nocent.

The Red Jack...........Hanzo Hattori.

Hanzo oftened wondered during this "trip" was the way this woman was walking was necessary. The hasty pace, the exaggerated movements.. oh well. As long as he could keep up, which he was more than able of, he was fine. The graveyard had been unexpected, however twisted a soul maybe, he didn't expect anyone to live in a graveyard. Even the undead had their own houses. Here, he began to pay attention to all his senses. The cool night that made the hair on his arms stand. The sounds of his tabi slipping against the moist grass. The smell of recently unearthed soil seized his nostrils, along with the more grisly scents of death. Some of the corpses didn't have the luxury of being embalmed. After expelling the horrid smells with a forceful exhale, Hanzo descended intro the crypt.

The darkness of the crypt was welcomed, Hanzo had an expotential amount of rods in his eyes, letting him see in the dark very well. His feet met the floor in a varying cadence as he manuevered to avoid the faults and cracks within the crypt. His paced then slowed when he saw... her.


He could understand why Krysira was frightened, her very presence exuded power. "What a sight to behold." Those few words were muttered quietly appraised the statuesque woman. She had to be at least 6 inches taller than him. A few more cautious steps before halting before this "Nocent". Pewter gray eyes locked with her vibrant, emerald hues.. he could only anticipate what she had to say.

Blink. Hanzo's eyes surveyed his dismal surroundings once more before the woman's voice commanded his attention. The crimson armor and the woman's height made a presence that simply could not be ignored. I'm glad I'm on her side... That was one of the first thoughts that entered in his mind as he looked over her once more, resting back on her malelovent eyes.


His mouth opened in protest, especially since she tagged so many formalities to his name. But not a peep came out, he listened in silence as she revealed his history unto him. How the fuck does she know Pop's name? I haven't told anyone about that... He began to chew his tongue in contemplation, how did she know so much about him after just meeting him? Being read so easily made him wonder if shewas a mind reader. But every word she spoke was nothing but one hundred percent truth, a rarity in this realm.


All was well until she mentioned Charna's name, and referred to her as an 'it'. He would of protested if it was anyone else, but the last thing he needed to do was prove her right in this case. In order to do that, he moved directly to the next question.


His voice was cool, quiet, very much like the crypt they were meeting in.


"In few cases, I will stop at nothing to get what I want... call me spoiled, but I'm used to having things my way. I will take what I feel is mine, even if it literally isn't. In short, I won't yield until I have everything I want.. not even in death will I cease to pursue my desires." He idly rocked on the balls of his heels, a smirk etched on his face.

Nocent?s strong, gauntleted fist suddenly rapped on the cover of the thick sarcophagus.

Her neck rolled a bit as she spoke, "As for your services............we are well aware that your skills are far from inexpensive.......nothing about you is substandard. Mercenaries, however, are often so transitory....your characteristics are sought after for a more lasting agreement, I'm afraid.

Due to my dubious position, I have been granted command over several relics from the citadel of my Lord...........instructed to pass them forth as gifts to certain persons who would acquiesce to massacre in his glorious name. One of these relics is to be imparted unto you, my friend. Its appearance is both radiant and fearful......its gift even more astounding..............especially to one who walks your dangerous path."

Giminicka stared intently at the assassin. Her voice grew more somber as she continued to speak, "It is thus written, that when my Lord razed the Heavenly hosts who made war upon his obsidian realm........angelic hordes were brutally smote down and their prized blood stolen from them..........it was then warped with arcane rituals to produce many of the scared talismans of our god. It is unto you, that I offer the notorious ?Bane of Iyukimo?.

Many centuries ago it was originally constructed for and wielded by the great Eastern Warlord, Shogun Esutashi Iyukimo. Under the potent insignia of my Lord Bhaal, the terrifying war mask has brought woe and doom to all those who have dared to oppose the chosen one who controls it. Passed forth it was to the most worthy assassins of our fold.......to those who could manipulate its tremendous potential. For so long as you pledge yourself to the Lord of Murder......this relic will allow you, Hanzo Hattori, to use your very mind as a devastating and awe-inspiring weapon.

I speak of the dark art of psychokinetics....to control and manipulate the many tangible items of the world with the advanced energy of one?s own psyche and thoughts. It will draw off of your fury and your ire......it will amplify your talents and decimate your enemies as you control the objects in your very environment without lifting a finger. More importantly, this artifact will shield your mind and feelings from those whose skills lie entrenched in the formidable talent of psionics."

Giminicka glanced directly into the eyes of the black-hearted ninja. ?Iyukimo?s Bane comes at the lofty cost of your undying loyalty to your new ?employer?........you will now work for his Temple and his Temple alone......your ?elimination services?, as they were, are henceforth off of the free market. This.....should you accept my proposal

Within the very sarcophagus I now touch, lies the latent remains of the adopted son of Baron Gareth Mulchavio. He was a powerful young man of Eastern decent like yourself......surely the infamous identify of the ?Jade Cobra? strikes a mental cord in the history of truly great assassins. Yes....here in this very location....is where the Jade Cobra slumbers in his eternal rest. This, after being murdered by five Scathachian Judges nearly one hundred years ago.

Murdered Hanzo.....they succeeded in murdering him because he did not utilize his allies to support his elevated cause. It took five of the miserable bitches to finally slay this master killer.......five Sisters of Justice. The Cobra was a mentor to all who champion your treacherous path, and a loyal colleague of the many adroit minions of my Lord. His assassination.....his honor.....must therefore be avenged. Until now, there has been no one worthy enough to reclaim the cherished mask and hence soundly regain the criminal empire of the night........that is until now.

If you are indeed the young heir to this mighty assassin?s mantle......and if you accept all of the stipulations of my Lord?s proposition.........force open the casket and retrieve your treasured relic. Iyukimo?s Bane....the ultimate facing of your prosperous destiny."

The malicious Priestess of Bhaal stepped back from the stone sarcophagus and slowly lowered her crimson-haired head, ?If not.......then a good eve...and a decent life I bid you, Lord Hattori.?

Krysira watched Hanzo steal the mask from the sarcophagus. Macabre even in the best of surroundings, but here in a crypt with Nocent presiding over the ceremonies... Well, that just sent a sharp shiver up her spine.

Cold gray hues watched the man she met only a few hours before succumb to Nocent's spell. She couldn't blame him; Nocent had a way about her. You know that she was deadly, you knew that she would be no less than damning. Still, the sweetness on the ear, her pull was second to none. Nocent was as delectable as that first warm spread of heroine into the vein, her venomous ways spread like the costliest silk over the cold sting of insignificance. Krysira, like Hanzo, couldn't help but be swayed by Nocent. And for whatever reason, they chose to follow the devil when faced with the choice. Damned, both of them, most probably.

Hanzo was talking a good game, speaking of the Scathachians as nothing more than bumps in the road. Hopefully, he could make good on his word. Those women and their pussy-whipped men were starting to make things in the West End a real pain in the ass. This new acquisition for Nocent would definitely come in handy. Krysira leaned forward off of the stone wall and nodded to Hanzo with a wink, responding to his question of his appearance, "Damn ready to get down to business."