A vast, smoldering desert. The sky was a transparent blue, stretching across the landscape like an immense ocean-like blanket. Below, it was naught but… dirt and sand, mixing collectively. A roar of jet engines screeched through the atmosphere behind a fairly wounded man who haphazardly fled for his life. About two or three futuristically advanced looking jets chased him, unloading all that they had into the ground from every hurried misfire. Whoever he was, he must have done something undeniably terrible to these men to piss them off.

 

Bullets flared near the man’s feet as they grazed into the earth below. He ran, albeit with no hope of any nearsighted refuge or anybody to lend a helping hand. He lost a considerable amount of blood-- so much that it trailed along his footsteps in the dense, desert ground.

 

“Look at ‘em run! Hahaha!” yelled one of the so-called men in profound joy, unable to contain himself from the sheer horror and fear inflicted into this man. These “men” in jets were not human, rather they were something less.

 

Granted the extensive loss of blood and blurred vision, the fleeing man wondered, the jets were as fast as light itself, why haven’t they dropped him already?

 

They were merely toying with him.

 

A missile loosed from a mechanism from the right wing of the speeding jet, cutting through the air like a swift bullet aiming for it’s target. The man saw this as it was headed his way, making no mistake whether it wouldn’t hit it’s quarry. It ebbed closer and closer until it created an unholy marriage between the man’s leg and the missile itself. A fiery explosion thundered in a luminescent mushroom through the sky, possibly blinding anyone unlucky enough to lay eyes upon it-- even from afar. The area was cataracted in a dense smoke, so much that it was unsure that the missiles even made contact.

 

As both the jets landed, the engines dispersed the smoke, revealing the body of the man. He wasn’t necessarily dead, but he also wasn’t far off either. The men exited, dismounting their fangled vehicles with weapons held at the ready. The “men” may have appeared human, yet the tops of their heads and their backsides possessed something much more compared to an actual man. Ears-- belonging to that of a cat, as well as elongated tails from behind them.

 

“You think we offed him?” asked the cat man.

 

“Doesn’t look too live to me,” remarked the other one, lightly tapping the downed man with the tip of his foot. He showed no signs of movement, nor was he breathing. “Yep, I think we finished him off.”

 

The other cat man snapped his fingers, disappointed. “Damn, was hoping to keep him alive for a bit longer.”

 

“Oh, I know,” he replied, laughing. “Everyone knows you like to play with your food.”

The cat man knelt over closer to the seemingly dead man. “Yeah, yeah and you lick yourself while sniffing women’s panties, now who was the sicko again?” he retaliated. That seemed to have gotten a reaction out of the man as he was flushed red. He intended to respond to that crude insinuation, but he was cut off as a roughly collected drag of breath came from the wounded man.

 

“W-Wha? I thought we iced this guy?”

 

“Apparently not. You goin’ soft on me? C’mon, let’s hurry this up. Sethos wants this guy dead,” said the cat man, cocking his rifle. He turned the barrel towards the man’s head priming his finger to pull the trigger. If the interruptions were thought to have stopped by now, it wasn’t the case at all. A loud ringing sound resounded through their ears; it was high enough for both of them to pick it up, anyways. The sound shifted into a shockwave, soon colliding into both of their jets, bringing them to a sudden explosion after a long, painful pause.

 

The men stood, utterly confused as to what on Earth-- or lack thereof-- happened.

 

They stared surprisingly at the colorful flames engulf the land-- the last remnants of the machines

they rode. They’re eyes darted back and forth at breakneck speeds, searching for the culprit-- for who could have done such a thing. They didn’t even care that they were stranded in the middle of the desert, what’s more, rather they didn’t pay it any mind.

 

“Who the fuck did this!?” said one of the men, ready to pull the trigger on somebody the moment they show their face. Trucks, likely belonging to the cat men, approached the flaming scene and out came a few more men to survey the area. It was as if they were expecting an army to jump out at them to have this many men.

 

“Typical of the Sanguine Swarm, they aim too high but they are instantly struck down like the fools they are!” said a voice, alluring the attention of each and every last one standing there. A loud and sharp clack from the heel of a boot sounded from the top of a nearby cliff, followed by a shadowy figure blotting out the sun upon where they stood. Her flowing red hair-- that would have stretched down below her back, had it not been tied back flowed in the humid, dry breeze. She wore a black, leather coat that flowed-- along with said hair in the breeze; a red, shoulderless camisole under the coat. Black knee socks stretched just below her thighs and skin tight black shorts.

 

Her golden eyes illuminated above her dimmed figure, which gave her some type of incandescent presence. She stood on the edge of the cliff, arms crossed as she looked down on the brigands with a less than approving gaze. “Congratulations, it took that many of you-- plus heavily armed vehicles, at that-- to take down an unarmed man, halfway to death.” she remarked.

 

“W-Who the hell are you!?” asked one of the men.

 

That did it. As if awaiting her cue, a refined smile crept along the girl’s face. “I am she who walks the looming darkness without fear, the one who dares to deny Lady Death her quarry and yet live to see another day. I am known as the undisputed hero of justice, the one who stares your decrepit god in the face and whispers, no. I am the woman who overhauls the cruel and unusual laws established by the tyrants evil and foul enough to create them in the first place!” she explained with high zest.

 

Rather than sticking around to hear the rest of her overblown and ridiculous speech, the men thought in unison; just shoot her right here. Simultaneously, they all took aim for the red haired heroine, ready to end her “grand entrance” as anticlimactically as possible. That was the case until another figure appeared in front of them-- a man, this time. He had short, messy, brown hair, wore grey Japanese robes, and a green coat on top. His belt held two katanas on one side, each of them possessing some luminescent color; it was as if this man was some type of Samurai.

 

A woman who looked no younger than seventeen spouting nonsense and a man who looked like some old Japanese figure.

 

Just who were these two?

 

“My apologies, but I cannot allow you to harm Ms. Waverly,” said the brown haired Samurai. As if upon instinct, he reached for one of his katanas. Like a flash of light, he slashed at the man’s arm before he could do anything rash, cutting his limbs off without a sense of hesitation. Blood sprayed along the ground as the man screamed for his life. The men reeled from the sight, in fear that they could be next.

 

Sheathing the steel blade back home into the scabbard, the man only scowled as he turned back to the group of cat men that seemed so hinged on shooting his companion before. “If any of you are brave enough to step forward and face me-- which I doubt, I urge you all to step right up. I have no issue with cutting each and every one of you down,” he said coldly.

 

Offended, the men aimed their guns straight for the homicidal man with killing intent. The roar of bullets resounded through the air, creating  a longhorned echo. Everything lied stagnant, silent, and motionless. The high pitched tinkling sounds of bullet shells dropping along the ground reverberated, breaking the tense soundlessness. The men had expected a corpse, but that wasn’t the case, of course granted the one spouting her overblown nonsense earlier was much to be on her toes more than they thought. Jaws dropped low as the men saw that the red-haired girl had blocked that salvo of bullets with just a sword, with great precision, at that.

 

“Daiki, you were almost a head of swiss. What happened back there?” the girl questioned while wearing a teasing smirk.

 

“I was careless, forgive me Master.” he replied, dropping to a proper bow in front of the girl as if forgetting about the fight.

 

She sighed, lightly chopping the one known as Daiki on the forehead.

 

“Oi, have you completely forgotten about us? Hey! Don’t ignore me!” yelled one of the feline soldiers, yanking a machete from a sheath and charging the duo without a speck of planning first.

 

The red-haired woman took note of the haphazard man, making mental notes in her head of multiple ways she could take him down; cutting a certain part of his body was option-- multiple openings were easy to spot with his sloppy fighting style anyways. She drew her sword once more, as if in slow motion, a light spark erupted from the inside of the scabbard like a fire being ignited. She took a starting motion from under the man’s arm where she slashed. “I told you,” she began. Swiftly, she cut into the man’s side.

 

Even when turning away from the first victim and to the rest, she could see all who stood here. She counted about five more men that were still standing. In a brisk motion, she periodically alternated in a swift interval of turns and precise slashes. Hell, she even add a few double taps in there. Her blade was hard to follow as she delivered eight-- nay, nine slashes. She halted and stood still, posed in between each of them men as they stood petrified. The wounds did not outwardly show right away, rather as soon as the woman sheathed her sword with a loud click from her scabbard, large and ample wounds suddenly appeared on each and every one of them. Simultaneously, they all fell.

 

“...Not to call me master, my name is Kulora Waverly--” she swung an arm over her shoulder and held her hand straight, pointing to the sky above. She then shifted into a magnificent pose in front of the man. It was as if she was mimicking the disposition of some great hero, transforming into it’s true form. “...The Kantou Vagabond!” suddenly the jets and trucks combusted in a large and hearty explosion behind her. She wasn’t even phased by it, Kulora merely remained in her heroic pose in front of the flames. From afar, that would make such an awesome glamor shot.

 

Taken aback, Daiki flinched at the sudden combustion, not having the foggiest idea as to where it came from or how Kulora managed to get the time to cause the rest of the vehicles to explode. As the flames finally died down, Daiki knelt down to the man those cats chased down. “Still alive, I see,” he mumbled. Turning his man to his back,Daiki inspected him closely, wondering what could those men had possibly wanted from him. Kulora knelt down along with him and began poking the man’s unconscious cheek with her finger.

 

“M-Ms. Waverly, I’m trying to focus,” Daiki uttered nervously.

 

“Well hurry up, there’s evil to cleave, y’know.”

 

With a sigh, Daiki clapped his hands together, emanating a bright green, luminescent light as he held his hands over the man’s wounds. The cuts, burns, and bruises soon vanished, turning into dim scars. Soon, the man’s eyes parted open as he finally came to.

 

Sitting upwards slowly, he looked to the unusual couple standing above him and instantly felt the instinct to cower. He kicked away whilst dragging his ass along the ground like a fool in his blind fear, not knowing the faces of the two that had just saved him.

“Well so much for being grateful…” Daiki remarked, crossing his arms with a glare from that wasted energy. “Ms. Waverly, what do you wish to do with him?”

 

Without saying a thing, Kulora walked towards the man with a blank expression, Daiki mumbled a stifled “uh oh…” as she approached the fear stricken man, expecting one of her famous chops to the head-- rather instead, Kulora offered a hand to the man, wearing a sweet smile.

 

“You fought well. Judging by your wounds, you did not allow them to make you falter without a fight, did you?” she said. “You may think running for your life is no substitute for fighting, but I assure you, it is. Rather than falling over and giving up when the odds were against you, run was the first thing that ran through your mind. You stayed strong and fought to stay alive. To survive.” She continued. “Even if you have to run away to stay alive, you are surviving, and surviving is also fighting. Remember that.” Kulora’s hand was still outstretched, awaiting the man acknowledge it.

 

“I’m Judaeus,” the man only said as he grasped Kulora’s hand, climbing to his feet after.

 

“Well Judaeus, do you know why those men were chasing you-- rather barbarically, at that?” asked Daiki, looking on at the destruction the one he called master caused. And this girl is only seventeen, right?

 

A face of grim had befallen the man as he was reminded of what caused him to run in the first place. He cast his eyes low to the ground and uttered, “Sethos… the God of Chaos has returned...”

 

Daiki’s eyes shot wide at the name, it was all too familiar to him. “So I was correct. That explains the Sanguine Swarm returning as well,” he said with a hand planted on his chin. He looked to Kulora, who had naught but a plotting smirk on her face as she walked towards the direction of an empty desert landscape, staring into the day’s moon above.

 

“Sethos, eh? God of Chaos? Feh, I laugh at how ridiculous you would fear such a being much too afraid to come down here and kill you with his own hands. It’s a wonder why people shudder at his very name, I mean-- after all, didn’t Blademaster Kotobuki beat him without an issue?” Kulora pointed a finger to the sky above, making a heroic pose out of it. She wore a defiant smile as she stared at the ground. “I know now what I’m gonna do; follow the legacy of the great Blademaster, defeat Sethos and save the world, like any hero of justice would do!” she placed a hand over the moon above, pretending to envelope it from where she stood-- closing it, she mimicked her hand crush it between her fingers.

 

“...And when I do, the world will know a truer god.” her beaming, defiant smile remained in it’s place as she turned away from the two and began walking in any direction the wind chose to take her.

 

“Who’s she?” asked Judaeus, mystified by this woman’s performance.

 

Daiki smiled, rather impressed. “That, is Kulora Waverly-- the descendant of Blademaster Kotobuki.” he and Judaeus followed after the girl, not knowing what would befall them in their journey. Judaeus was perplexed having to take orders from a teenager who looked like she watched too many cartoons, but he did not question it any further. After all, with the explosions, poses and speeches from this girl, serving under her could be…

Pretty awesome.