Small village outskirts of Boston MA, USA **

Rain pounds down mercilessly from the heavens, the sky weeping at the sins of man, crackling bolts lightning flare angrily, striking violently into the forsaken flesh of mother earth. Thunder roars and echoes defiantly at man’s ignorance, winds hissing banefully at man’s insolence, humanity having forgotten its place in the circle of life, having lost its bond with nature, with reality, swallowed into a cycle of chaos, of death and of despair.

However, the soul walking the endless planes of existence heeds not the anguish of Gaia, Ibuki Hasigawa’s threads of fate having been long since been rewritten into a web of travesty, betrayal, woe and torment, the injustice of man simply no longer enough to sway her, the former kindness, tenderness and warmth drowned into the anguish of her life, cheated of her family, her clan, her freedom, the last of the Hasigawa clan walks alone.

Tattered memories dispersing like incense, clinging to the battered remains of her consciousness, the rays of hope long since extinguished; only a gloomy vortex of meaningless attempts to prolong a forsaken existence all that is left.

2 days, 48 hours, 2880 minutes, 172800 seconds of her life buried beneath the sands of time, sinking away into the seas of destiny. In the past, the heir of Hasigawa would’ve been quite impatient and irked by the meticulous, long winded briefings, exhausting simulation programs and physical tests her temporary patrons of the CIA.

Still, The Kunoichi’s body and mind are crystallized as glaciers of ice, her body nothing but a walking manikin of flesh and bone carving a path of vengeance in the name of her murdered mother.

Circumstance and the power plays of huge factions bringing her to this point of time, soaking wet, hair limply splayed over her forehead. Her shady new superiors having shoved a black envelope into her hands, directed her to a black Mercedes that carried her to this current location, the entrance of a backwater prairie town outside of Boston.

”2341 Maple street. So this is the place, I thought Yakuza had more class than this… pale lips twist into a sardonic sneer, at the side of a leaky desolate looking old house, walking towards the entrance her deep pools of molten brown sharpen, her hunter senses stretching to their limits as she scans over the obviously deserted residence.

The fallen Ninja is clad in a heat insulating body suit, concealing every inch of milky white skin in a vice grip of midnight blue, silver moonlight rebounding off chrome arm guards and matching leggings whom adorn her legs from ankle to just under her knee.

A black belt encompasses her waist, two blade sheathes bond to her body, one of thick, ancient wood, sealing off her ancestral katana, the family heirloom past down to all heirs of the Hasigawa clan since the era of the Tokugawa shoguns.

The other seals off one of her personal favorites, the Kodachi blade, the hybrid of dagger and katana, the sword which is a shield, both agile and deadly, more suitable for battle in such indoor surroundings, where her katana might imbed itself into the walls and hinder her.

“hm?” the nocturnal voyager questions, her breathing stilling, nerves steeling as her eyes narrow carefully, her hand reaching out for the knob of the door, leaning a safe distance beside the door as she locks her hand around the cold metal, gears creaking lazily as her hand forces the mechanism to shift.

“Nani(what?)? Ibuki’s raptor eyes narrow, bracing herself mentally upon hearing the sublime sound of a blade being unsheathed. Her lithe body twists like a boa constrictor around its prey, years of training allowing her to summon incredible flexibility, bending her body forth.

Warmth drizzles down her sideburns, pain flashing momentarily, moonlight gleaming against steel, the length of a Katana prodding from within the wall, a long laceration painted in crimson adorning her left cheek.

“First blood…” Dormant instincts of battle ignite, her warrior spirit blazing like a burning ember revived, lifeless eyes sharpening into a concentrated inferno. The rekindled state of propels her into the midst of her upcoming battle, Ibuki leaping forth, the sound of wood shattering echoing in her ears.

“Shinbou (patience)…” time flows leisurely, absent mindedly shuffling its way onward, a shady outline leaps out the fresh hole in the wall, ” Bunkai(analysis)” arms tense in preparation, her foes stance a familiar one, she charges, ”Hansayou(reaction)..!”

The Kunoichi’s stride suddenly accelerates impossibly, her body blurring slightly, her life force coalescing around her body in pale tendrils of aqua, not wavering whatsoever as her foe races towards her in equally blurry speed.

Ibuki’s mind reminisces the ancient fighting lessons under Geki’s wing, the opposing figure grasping the hilt of the sheathe and standing in a solid stance, one hand gripping the base of the scabbard and pointing it forth.

Battoujutsu, the art of drawing the blade from the sheathe, the ancient Japanese single strike killing technique that uses the blade’s sheathe to accelerate the speed of the blow. Ibuki’s hand reaches for the hilt of her respective Katana, pushing it out of the scabbard by an inch with her thumb.

Both combatants draw in unison, blades hunger flesh and blood, screeching forth like angry banshees, sparks dispersing upon collision, the impact so powerful it almost knocks the blade clear out of Ibuki’s grasp, determination and will power alone keeping her arms steadfast against the surprising strength of her foe.

** Meanwhile, a dining hall, Shadowlaw Eastern-Europe Safe house, Ukraine **

The room is lavish and spacey, the rectangle covered with rich paintings of the Ukraine landscape, rich Persian carpets coating the cool marble of the floor, crystal chandeliers offering a pale light to the sole inhabitant of the room.

Xavier Bison was enjoying his dinner, his taste buds contorting with pleasure at the rich flavor of his roasted chicken, the sweet ginger and honey spicing the salty texture of the meat, his golden coated silverware carving through the softness of his food with grace and delicacy.

The Lord of Shadowlaw is draped in a rich raven robe of silk and satin, the fabric rippling like water with his slight motions, his golden skin stretching over his muscular chest, revealing in the deep V of the robe.

The psychic terror's hair is unruly and moist, his handsome features passively chiseled into a small smile "Mother…what a pleasant surprise…" the psychic overlord muses cheerfully, quirking his violet brow at a woman whom blinks into existence across the table between bites, pale white locking with burning indigo "Hungry?"

Rose is wearing a long Royal blue gown, the clothing hugging her voluptuous curves in a complimenting manner, embracing the pale flesh beneath snugly, her hair loose as it spills between her shoulder blades, long black stockings entrapping her long legs that spread lightly into an offensive stance, her infamous yellow scarf held tightly between the fingers of her trembling left fist.

"Silence!" Rose's voice echoes audibly, augmented by her esoteric power, the walls rumbling faintly beneath the shockwave, chandeliers swaying and pictures shattering against the floor, shards of glass splaying over the carpet, the mother of the beast glaring banefully at her single child with malice, eyes no mother should ever have to lay upon her son.

"I'll take that as a no…" the comment forces a snarl from the throat of the scorned psychic, pearl white teeth baring behind her pink rosy lips, sparks of pale sapphire crackling around her body, swirling around her limbs, the tendrils of energy fretting and twitching with her ire.

"I take you aren't here on a social call" Xavier muses evenly while resuming his meal, ignoring the enraged psychic, "Impudent pup! You will not ridicule me with your insolence!" a hiss escapes in a honey smooth tone, the embodiment of her willpower extending forth, shattering the table and all upon it with ease.

"And I was about to offer you some wine, oh well…" the son of Bison muses off handedly, rising to his feet and addressing the Italian before him icily, crossing his arms across his chest, "What is it that you want mother?"

His eyes widen somewhat momentarily, unseen fingers clenching around his throat, indigo fire blazing within his mother's pupils, her aura exploding around her, the walls shaking as cracks begin to form across their texture, Rose mincing on words and preferring actions.

"Oh…so you want…to play?" the terror of the known world muses mockingly, his eyes flashing with white lightning, his power repelling her attack, before shifting the air before him and thrusting it forth, his aura crackling alongside her own, the chandeliers rocking madly on the waves of their collective power.

"As the one who bore your twisted, demented body from my womb, I find it my responsibility…to rectify my fluke of judgment of giving you life…and take it back!" Rose mutters frostily, throwing both of her hands forth, her life force and birthright melding from ethereal to corporeal energy, vipers of green lightning discharging from her fingertips, her aura coalescing around her heatedly.

"You will find…I am not keen…of giving up so quickly, I've become quite attached to the land of the living thank you very much…but if you insist, I will give you a first class ticket…" the dark monarch of the mind whispers mentally, his forearms glowing brightly, absorbing the electric current, the muscles numbing as the heat of the bolt singes his skin.

"To oblivion!" will becomes power, power gives existence to the void, the void churning and forming blades of energy, pulsing razors of colossal might, with his mere thought the dark master sends the deadly attack at his parent, watching expectantly as the woman disperses her atomic structure reforming behind him.

"You're truly powerful Xavier…" the woman known amongst her peers as the "rose of Venice" admits quietly, her hands parrying a reverse thrust kick, the sheer force behind it pushing the woman against the crumbling wall, the wood surrendering it's last to the weight of her body, crashing into the neighboring living room, lying on the cool marble as the wall she flew through is pealed away violently by Xavier's power.

"But also quite…predictable!" Rose hisses to herself, flashing in blue, scattering her body into nothingness and reforming before her son and sending her palm crashing hard into his exposed chest, fingertips exploding into angry azure fire, the recoil throwing her accursed offspring forth like a rag doll, quickly entrapping him with unseen telekinetic ropes and flattening him against the ceiling.

"Am I…now?!" the dark lord murmurs inaudibly, gritting his teeth against the pain, blood spilling down a gash on his forehead, his chest burned deeply, and upper body aching from the impact against the ceiling, the pain fueling his resolve to share the feeling with his "beloved" mother.

The embodiment of evil shuts his eyes as his body disperses into thin air, willing himself to reform over her head, splitting his body into three shade embodiments of tangible indigo, the first silhouette kicking face forcefully, rattling her cranium like a mallet against an anvil.

Before the pain is able to sink into her consciousness, the momentum of the blow sends her into the clutches of the 2nd specter, it in turn upper cutting her in the gut vehemently, a rib snapping beneath the blow, blood gushing within her body, as the sheer might propels her into the air.

The final shadow Xavier, mimics one of her trademarks moves, entrapping her within his hands, thrusting his dark energy into her body, pain shooting through Rose's spine, spreading through her body like fire through a thorn field, electric torture ripping through her like a raging beast into its prey, before the chi form throws her violently, sending her crashing forcefully into the floor, leaving a painful impression upon the stone.

Rose shudders, pearl white teeth grit forcefully, blades of pain sinking within her tender flesh, torrents of pain shooting down the length of her battered spine, shaky hands pushing against the force of gravity, as blood stained lips push out heavy exhales of blood, spit and air.

Xavier glides forth, heel crashing into the opening between two ribs, the augmented force fragmenting her bone and tattering at her delicate organs beneath, Rose coughing blood as pain spreads through her like venom, able to catch her child's blurry movements as he comes diving towards her feet first, willing to stomp her all the way to Hades.

Rose's body twists at the last possible moment, Xavier landing into a kneeling position as the shockwaves paralyses his feet momentarily, giving Rose the opportunity she needs to retaliate, pressing both palms to her son's chest and discharging psionic lightning into his exposed flesh.

The shockwave created forces the Son of Bison off his feet and flying backwards, gasping through a fit of shaking, two hand shaped burn marks adorning his flesh, gasping for air between desperate panting.

"Not…bad…" the Rose of Italy murmurs softly in her native tongue, core of being spreading outwards, engulfing her corporeal embodiment, revitalizing weary muscle and bruised skin, lifting her above the face of earth, once more gliding an inch or two above the surface of floor, crossing her arms beneath her breasts.

"But enough games…It ends no venomous words collide into Xavier's mind with all the might of a battering ram, pale eyes widen in surprise and awe, The lord of Shadowlaw bracing for whatever the fallen femme fatale unleashes next.

Due to being wounded and weak Rose reckons that it is time to strike hard, and strike fast and finish this before she is overwhelmed by the loss of blood and internal damage. Therefore, Rose attacks, eyes flashing in blinding indigo as her body tenses, her aura tearing at the mansion, clawing at it like a caged beast, ripping it like paper, focalizing her entire being into the next attack, spreading her hands to the sides of her body, pulling her head back while taking a deep breath.

Suddenly Xavier grits his teeth impossibly, hands clamping against his temples, legs giving in as his world shattering into a chaotic storm of agony, his reality warping, his bones melting, muscles burning, mind clawing desperately against the barriers of bone, his entrails turning as bile and vomit stick in his throat, His lone living parent striking at him with a move he had never imagined possible.

Rose's lung heave an impossible wail, the entire building rumbling lightly as everything that is made of glass into a half mile radius explodes, the enigmatic psychic reigning her power with the experience of ages, shifting the psionic energy into electro magnetic waves, assaulting his nerve system directly.

"Can't…think…can't…move…It's like…daggers in my head?!" Xavier thinks, vomiting spit and bile, crashing against the decimated remainders of the mansion, muscles clenching and releasing violently protesting in vain to the horrible torture as tears pour down his widened eyes, pupils shrinking and growing as blood jams his lungs.

Then Xavier scream as Rose turns her deadly attack directly towards him, the shockwaves sending his body convulsing harder, unable to breathe, curling into a ball and uselessly trying to muster a defense, but it was too late, Rose had him constricted like a fly in her spider web, the more he struggles the faster he hastens to meet his doom.

"I…you win…this time mother…but next time…you won't be…so lucky…" Xavier whispers in a frail cough, eyes flashing in blue as he enacts the only action left save dying, he flees with the last remainders of his power, the psychic's body blurring before melting into thin air, with a flash of blue.

Rose allows herself a small smile as her lips seal away the wail of the banshee from whence it came, panting heavily "We shall see…my child…we shall see…" blood drizzling down the corner of her mouth, eyes shutting before her body flashes into pale indigo, leaving behind the terror struck quarter and the sounds of sirens as her body sails the astral plane.

** Elsewhere, Empty warehouse, Hong Kong, China **

"This party rocks bro!" A delighted cry escapes a man in his early twenties. The young man stands at 5'8, clad in a pair of loose dark khaki pants and an open jacket, hanging loose over his shoulders, golden skin glistening as sweat drizzles between the lines of well built muscles, the youth's athletic body dancing to the beat.

The man is twirling around and flashing an over dramatic pose; grinning gratefully at his counterpart. A one inch taller, the young man is clad in long black jeans, a skin tight shirt of blue hugging his body, his shoulder long auburn hair unbound and cascading around him as he dances, flashing a grin he lifts a thumbs up "I told ya I know the best places Yang!"

"If Grandfather ever finds out we skipped studies over this, he'd kill us!" Yang shouts, his voice swallowed within the booming bass of the techno music, the room reverberating with the might of the Speakers spread within it.

Yun turns wildly "What Gen doesn't know, can't kill us?!" laughing while swerving to the beat and fails to notice the man in his path, colliding into his back and sending him sprawling onto the floor. "Oh man, I'm sorry ma…" Yang begins while moving to get off the man, his words cut off by a boot to the gut.

Yang flies to his brother's side, helping him up, glaring at the assaulting man angrily "Hey man! He said he was sorry! What was that for?" Yang demands hotly, the man snorts in discontent, dusting off the material of his black leather coat with his long fingers, offering them both an icy glare, the crowd pausing their dancing to watch the turn of events.

At 6'2 the man's dark blue eyes offer no glimmer of recognition, deep pools of impassivity locking with the twin brown ambers of the now recovered Yun. Long strands of wild aqua hair spill before the man's eyes, the left hand of the fighter known to the underground circuits in France only as Remy, idly pushing them behind his ear as his shoulders shrug "I was merely returning your favor…"

"Yang, this guy's mine…I'll make him swallow those words…" he whispers to his sibling in Chinese, forcing a tired exhale out of his lips "I suppose we'll have to call dad when we get arrested…" Yang sighs while winking, Yun's grin widening into a feral one, dashing forth in blinding speed.

Remy's eyes melt, shifting from placid blue to vibrant azure, his lithe body twisting away from the descending form of Yun at the last possible moment, the Chinese warrior narrow missing, his foot spirals towards the French fighter's temple but tasting the air alone.

Remy snorts and strikes, his booted foot whipping forth, aiming to sink into the younger Asian's back. Surprised the Aqua haired combatant finds Yun turning to intercept his attack, hands locking around his ankle, Remy barely compiling the new data before the younger of "Twin Dragons" feeds him with the full brunt of his foot, the man's jaw rattling beneath the well aimed blow.

"Not bad…" Remy muses to himself, analyzing Yun's next attack, barely having enough time to recognize it with the youth's speed, with great effort managing to dodge the raging punch aimed at his nose, it whistling harmlessly away from his head.

"Look out Yun!" Yang shouts, watching helplessly as Remy's fist connects with bone crunching force into his brother's abdomen, the French warrior stepping back before kicking off the ground.

"What the hell?!" Yun wonders as Remy somersaults forward, kicking upward with his right foot, it bursting into blue flames, the crescent motion catching him off guard, the life force augmented blow sending his world exploding into white and red, his body rising high before being consumed by gravity, crashing forcefully back into the floor.

"Yun!" Yang cries out, ready to interfere when a large, powerful hand locks around his shoulder, constricting him in place, "Hey there, in a street fight there are only two warriors, your brother cooked his own stew" A deep voice speaks behind him.

"Hey…let me go!" Yang would growl as he turns, blinking as he is forced to look up into the eyes of the titanic 6'6 body of Alex, one of the warriors he befriended during the 3rd street fighter tournaments. "But…Yun…" Yang tries, Alex chuckling and point back towards the battle.

Blood spills down the corner of Yun's mouth, the young warrior sneering darkly as Remy attacks him once more, rolling away from harm's way, pushing upwards off the ground, his foot catching his foe's chin, the larger man caught off guard, stumbling backwards.

"You pack quite the punch…but I'm not done with you yet!" Yun growls and focalizes his chi, his movements becoming impossible, momentum building more and more as he rams his shoulder into the man's body, forcing the older man flying backwards, Remy landing onto the concrete with a thud.

Remy growls as he and Yun meet head on, exchanging blows angrily, both suddenly pausing as he looks up, gazing into the black eyes of a humongous beast of man, the man standing at a foreboding 7 feet of muscle, old traces of fat now gone wild curls of black spilling at the side of the man's head, unshaved face twisting into a malicious grin.

"I still haven't gotten my rematch Alex! Perhaps I should hurt some of your puny friends to make you fight me!" Hugo exclaims, grabbing them both from around the neck and launching himself into the air, choke slamming them both into the ground with incredible force, their heads and bodies meeting the wooden floor with such might that the floor shatters easily.

"Hugo…" Alex growls as Yang's eyes widen, "Yun?" he'd ask, while seeing his brother's limp form being tossed like trash, a screen of red blinding him as his breath constricts in his lungs, screaming his brother's name in anguish, blood pooling from a gash at the side of Yun's head, he was alive, but who knows what damage that kind of a move might have caused.

Both American and Chinese warriors prepare to battle the giant German Wrestler, charging forth in unison, the German titan laughing in delight, crouching down somewhat and cracking his knuckles.

All three fail to notice a pair of green eyes examining them all from the floor above, the new agent of Shadowlaw, codenamed "Blackheart", he wasn't there for them, he was waiting for those whom will come to arrest them, but he always did enjoy a good fight, grinning idly while drinking a shot of Vodka.

** Back in Boston **

The child of Hasigawa examines her foe for the first time, eyes showing some confusion and mostly unease, her assailant a woman standing at around Ibuki’s own height with a similar build and lithe frame, wearing a midnight blue body suit, a single Katana strapped to her side.

Raptor sharp eyes glare icily back at Ibuki, brown as deep as the bellows of the earth shining defiantly before her. Flawless light gold skin emphasizes the color of the woman’s eyes, a long black ponytail flailing in the evening breeze between firm and powerful shoulder blades.

Ibuki’s train of thought is broken as the mysterious woman’s eyes narrow somewhat, the femme engaging in a small retreating step, out of the blue turning 90 degrees to the right while swinging her katana, the rustling of the blade pushing the wind ringing like a fire alarm in the heir of Hasigawa’s mind, the fallen ninja reflexively reacting accordingly.

“Shimata(crap)…” a low hiss escaping through pursed lips, blades clashing majestically in a shower of sparks and an audibly, both women pushing against one another’s weight, attempting to gain a momentarily advantage. “Ikuzo…(get ready…)”

Geki’s former star pupil loosens both arms at once, sliding her katana’s blade foe’s weapon, “1…2…” soft murmurs escape her lips, senses sharpening, preparing to retaliate, sixth sense stretching and catching a fatal mistake the ninja will most gratefully utilize.

“Matte(Wait)… Shinbou(patience)…” her mind recites Geki’s arcane like whispers, mind replaying one of her clan’s more advanced techniques, timing carefully the last of the Shinobi leaps upwards impossibly, flipping backwards, pulling her blade along her acrobatic motion.

“Don’t use the blade…be the blade…let it become part of you…” velocity transforms into kinetic energy, a body in motion will always aspire to remain in motion, graceful hands only guiding the extension of her body, the blade descending with crushing force and blinding speed.

“Masaka!” Ibuki mutters in utter shock, eyes widening, arms straining to keep hold upon the katana, the blade pressed forcefully against her foe’s blade, the other woman straining against Ibuki’s weight, reinforcing her grip with her other hand, palm pressed against the flat of the blade, shuddering some before heaving forcefully and forcing Ibuki to the ground.

The Shadow walker rolls back to her feet, biting down a spasm of pain, ribcage colliding painfully against the ground, lungs burning in a desperate attempt to cough out the residue dust and Carbon Dioxide, the femme grimacing lightly as she sidesteps quickly, dodging her opponents thrust by narrow inches “Nothing less than amazing…from Geki’s heir…”

Ibuki crumples to her knees, pressing her arms instinctively to her side, crimson drizzling between her fingertips, blood spilling from a long cut into her flesh, the slash clean and barely noticeable, beside the warm dampness which plagues Ibuki’s clothing, it sticking painfully to her body, catching her foe’s silent command, Ibuki’s uneasiness grows thicker, the voice is painfully familiar, but from where, if only her head didn’t hurt so badly, and her side wasn’t ablaze. “Tate (stand up)…!”

“How…did she…know that move…?” her mind screams in frustration, trying to tell her something of extreme importance, but it is in vain. Ibuki’s mind deadlocked within her combative state, licking her dry lips and shakily rising back to a standing position, eyes shutting as her fingers jab into twin pressure points, exhaling painfully, numbing the sensation from her left side, gripping the katana’s hilt tightly with sweaty hands.

“Seme(attack)!” calm and impassive eyes scorn Ibuki far worse than any arrogance or confidence could, the Kunoichi ashamed at her incompetence, truly feeling the toll of her many months of imprisonment and away from serious combat.

“You want me to attack…fine!” Ibuki’s eyes glare daggers, boring into the very core of her foe’s being, moving to position the blade across her body, hilt at shoulder length and tip at waist level, legs spreading and dividing her balance evenly between her legs, body bending forth just slightly, poised to strike like a threatened cobra.

“Foolish child…” the woman whispers while shaking her head dismissively, katana rising to shoulder level, hilt pressing against her right shoulder, the Japanese sword held steadily in a stabbing pose, the very tip tilted down just slightly in a horizontal angle aiming at Hasigawa’s abdomen.

Both women stand in silence, immobile, eyes locked intensely, waiting patiently in stalemate for a sign to begin, their patience not tried for long, lightning flashing above their heads, it all the two women need, their body gliding through the air, melting one towards to the other.

When the flash resides, the combatants are standing at point blank range, Ibuki’s katana redirecting her foe’s stab, the blade now cutting deep into the younger kunoichi’s side, steel imbedded deeply within warm flesh, crimson beginning to gush forth from the bloody wound.

At the same time, Ibuki's other hand grips her Kodachi tightly, the Japanese bastard sword now residing from tip to hilt within her foe’s abdomen, blood bursting forth like a waterfall, cascading down the blade, caressing over the Heir of Hasigawa's hand in a slick touch.

Ibuki's opponent pauses, eyes gazing at her abdomen in shock, choking somewhat on her own blood, leaning lightly against Ibuki as a wave of weakness hits her. The kunoichi holds no mercy or curtsey for a fallen foe, twisting the blade within her assailant's body, exhaling in effort, pulling the small blade through the woman's flesh from it's original hip level to under her breasts, the blade carving the skin like warm butter, before kicking her backwards.

The other woman crashes onto her back heavily, panting hard between fits of coughs, the woman's defiance dissipating along with the blood that pools around her shivering form. Ibuki smiles only slightly, collapsing to her knees, plagued by heavy pants and coughs, blood and saliva sliding down the corner of her lip, her entire body quivering with ache.

In a manner of moments her opponent’s life force whisks away into nothingness, Ibuki Hasigawa the last woman standing, or more like kneeling, the winner of the duel to life and death, the femme crawling over to the freshly slain corpse of the defeated ninja.

Mechanically Ibuki rummages through her opponent’s garments, finding a small pocket and releasing what she came here for in the first place, the miniature DVD-ROM containing sensitive information about the United States defense systems.

Ibuki marvels how something so small could contain so much dangerous information at once, from lists of CIA and FBI agents and their true identities to he locations of the US’s secret nuclear silos, presidential bunkers and codes to very sensitive computer servers best left untouched.

“I really should go…” a pathetically weak little whisper escapes her, biting her blood stained lips, the ninja pushes herself to a kneeling position once more, willing herself to solve one last burning question before leaving on her way, curiosity simply too powerful to resist, shaky fingertips grasping the blood soaked fabric of her dead opponent’s facial mask.

Thunder roars above her, lightning crackles angrily as the winds begin to batter against Ibuki’s body, rain stabbing into her weary body, chilling her battered frame and worn muscles, obstructing her vision slightly as the last of the Hasigawas pulls at the mask.

The mask comes off, Ibuki’s thundering heart pauses, her shaky breathing jamming into burning lungs, coffee brown eyes widening as reality shatters before her eyes, profound horror, utmost grief, endless guilt, everything welling up, and then, in the eye of the tempest; the last Hasigawa screams into the night.