In a dark room deep within the catacombs beneath the metropolis known as New York City, a man sits cross-legged, seemingly in a deep, trance-like state.

Clad in an orange gi, and thick yellow arm pads, this man seemed to not even breathe. Motionless, the thoughts going through his head could not be read by even the most experienced psychic.

Thoughts of lightly fluttering butterflies drifted through his psyche like a rain shower of purples and pinks. In the midst of this kaleidoscope of majestic insects stood this orange-clad ninja. He bent down on one knee, and pinched the ground beneath him. The dirt was fine, almost to the point of sand.

The whirlwind of butterflies disappeared. Except for one, petite beauty that rested upon the warrior's shoulder. It was a velvety black, outlined with a bright, tangerine-like orange.

"You may go now," the creature whispered into his ear. "Go, Guy. Leave this place and return again tomorrow."

His eyes slowly opened. No longer was he on the black plain of dirt. He was now sitting on a purple wool rug, inside an intensely small cave, surrounded by gleaming, white candles.

Guy stood up, assisting himself with one hand. He brushed some dirt from off of his pant leg, and calmly walked out of the room.

In the room that followed he saw his companions, both sleeping peacefully like a couple of hibernating bears. One, who goes by the name of Borrah, was an overly obese man of gigantic proportions. He wears a dark blue suit with a crimson red tie. His bald head gleamed from the natural light of the catacombs.

The other, Jettaron, was almost the complete opposite. A rather scrawny man, with a distinct rat-like face. All though at this current point in time, his face was covered by his Harrison Ford style cowboy hat. Never will you meet a man more skilled with a gun than Jettaron, never.

The fat man stirs.

"Wha..wait..." Borrah muttered as he lumbered up and looked at his surroundings.

"Morning, Borrah," Guy said. He sat down next to the un-conscious Jettaron, who was still snoring like a pneumatic drill.

"Oh, hey Guy. You're up early as usual."

Guy nodded.

Borrah sludged over to a small, oak wood cabinet that they stole from a local furniture store nearby and opened it. He reached inside with his massive, coarse hands a removed a couple of apples. He tossed one to Guy, and proceeded to chomp on the other. To Guy, he looked like a crocodile attacking it's prey.

"So," Guy said, trying not to look at Borrah's disgusting eating habits. "What's on the agenda today?"

Borrah shrugged, "I dunno. Ask coma-boy over there, he knows what we're doing."

The Bushin ninja turned his attention towards his smaller comrade.

"Watch this," Borrah whispered as he giggled and meandered toward Jettaron. Slowly, the titan crept behind him and stretched out his tree-trunk arms. With blazing speed, his hands came clashing together like two bolts of lightning, and the sound was similar.

The echo that following traveled all throughout underground New York. Snakes and rats everywhere were disrupted from their sleep. Speaking of rats...

"What the!!" Jettaron leapt up onto his feet and un-holstered his pistol. His hat toppled to the ground, revealing his long, black, greasy hair.

Borrah and Guy were in hysterics, holding back their tears of laughter. Borrah, literally, was rolling on his back.

"Oh, that's very funny," Jettaron said sarcastically as he placed his gun back in it's brown, leather holster. "Really, guys, you just crack me up."

The rodent-like man bent down and picked up his hat, and brushed it off on his knee, then firmly placed it back onto his tiny head.

"So," Guy started, still half-laughing. "What're we doing today?"

"Some guy wanted us to pull a job for him down on Aigburth road, but I dunno. He seemed a little sketchy," Jettaron splashed water onto his face from a nearby natural stream.

"How do you mean?"

"Not too sure," the still half-asleep Jettaron said with a shrug. "He just seemed all paranoid. He kept looking out of the corner of his eye and whatnot. A real oddball you could say."

"I say we go for it," Borrah interrupted. "We haven't gotten a job offer in a while. Besides, maybe some action will wake up ol' sleepy head over here."

The two of them chuckled while Jettaron obviously thought the joke was getting a tad stale.

"I'm still not too sure though," Jettaron continued trying his best to ignore his friends' mockery. "A guy like that could get us killed. We can't just go recklessly accepting any job that gets offered to us, y'know. I say we play it safe and stay away from this one. What do you think, Guy?"

"I guess we shouldn't. No sense diving into something we can't get out of."

"All right, fine. Then what're we gonna do?" Borrah quizzed.

"Well," Jettaron began, holding his hand up to his chin. "I guess the only other thing to do is to go job hunting then. Shall we?"

Borrah jumped up from his stone seat, "All right! Sounds like a plan to me."

"Guy?"

"Why not."

"All right then, let's get outta here."

The trio gathered what little belongings they needed for the trip, and left their lonely cavern in nothing but the sound of water dripping gently into a growing puddle.

The streets of New York City were buzzing with ambient, yet irritating sounds. People chattering away like squirrels on their mobile cell phones, cars honking their blasted horns at each other for not speeding enough, a young couple bickering endlessly because he cheated on her with her sister's boyfriend. All of these things made Guy shudder with disturbance.

His companions, however, seemed perfectly contempt with the cacophony of racket being produced by this wretched city. Borrah tromped along, smiling happily with naive ignorance to the world. The phrase "ignorance is bliss" most definitely applies to his paunchy friend. Jettaron, who walked in the middle, seemed to be in his own little world as he always was whenever he smoked a cigarette.

Guy coughed to subtly remind him that the smell of cancer perturbed him.

"Oh, sorry about that Guy," Jettaron flicked the cancer stick into the street as a taxi cab went rolling over it. "I forgot I'm not supposed to smoke around you. My bad."

Guy nodded in thanks. Should've meditated one last time before I left. This cursed city is too damn stressing...

"Hey guys, why don't we split up?" Borrah asked, seemingly proud of his newfound idea.

Jettaron shrugged, "All right. How about I keep going straight; Borrah, you go left on 43rd Street; and Guy, why don't you go right on 43rd street?"

Borrah and Guy nodded in agreement, and the entourage split up to go their separate ways.

It was cold. The wind whipped around Guy's face like a violent tsunami, tossing his hair around like a rag doll. His shoulders hunched up in attempt to keep his body heat intact, and he kept his arms tense and hands pocketed.

"Last of the Bushin warriors, prepare yourself," an unfamiliar voice echoed through the alleyway he was walking in.

All thoughts of the temperature immediately escaped his mind, and Guy whipped around in a defensive stance, but to face no one.

Not moving his head, but moving his eyes only, he searched the alleyway to see if he could find something that resembled a presence, like someone's foot or shadow. He listened for a presence, such as the sound of breathing or a heartbeat. However the search was futile, and there was only one thing left to try...

"Who's there?"

Suddenly, the intense pain of a steel-toed boot was felt on the back of his head. He went toppling forward and landed face-first on the cold concrete. Without hesitation, he quickly leapt to his feet to face this mysterious opponent.

"My name is Syris," the stranger stated with a sense of pride in her voice and a cocky smile. "I have been ordered by his lord to destroy the last of the Bushin ninjas. That last ninja is you, and now it is your time to die." She was an overall short woman, and no older than thirty. Her hair was short, and bright orange like a perched flame above her forehead. She had several piercings throughout her face, one on the nose, a few on each ear, and Guy noticed a tongue ring when she spoke. She was very scantly clad in an all leather outfit, like some sort of odd S&M nightmare.

Time is not something to waste, this is something Guy learned early on in life. He lunged towards his enemy; left hand extended to block away any incoming attack and right hand curled close to his chest like a rattlesnake stalking a rat.

He misjudged her. Instead of launching a pure offensive attack like Guy had expected, she remained still, in a completely defensive stance.

Better change my procedure... the Bushin thought as he drew closer and closer. Instead of grabbing her by the shoulders and slamming his knee into her chin like originally planned, he ducked down and slid into her ankles with a Kage Sukui.

Syris shrieked as she landed flat on her spine on the hard, hard pavement.

Again, Guy wasted no time. He hastily flipped forward toward Syris as she was sluggishly rising, and came crashing down on her skull with the point of his elbow.

Syris froze in her spot. The pain went searing through her body like an electrical charge, paralyzing all of her nerves on the way. With a faint, moaning sound she collapsed, lifeless on the dark, cold concrete.

He knelt down on one knee, observing her stunned face. Her mouth gaped open like an empty void and her eyes stared endlessly into the sky. Guy shook his head, "Pathetic."

Guy rose back onto his feet, and looked up at the pure white clouds. He noticed the cold climate again, and continued walking in the direction where he was going. His arms tensed, and his hands pocketed.