Guy crouched down on the black slate rooftop like a stripe-less orange tiger observing a grazing gazelle for lunch. Though he was observing, he wasn't exactly studying anything in particular. Just kind of staring off into the misty-midnight distance.

It was nice though, the mist was. He liked protection, he liked being able to hide himself, to keep everything at a distance. The mist of London combined with the blackness of the midnight hour provided double the protection, two times the shell.

Not that there was anyone to hide from. The cobblestone streets were empty, like a barren ghost town. Of course, it most likely only seemed that way. Surely there were other lonely souls with nothing better to do wandering about at this hour. Or maybe he really was the only one. Maybe Guy was the only person pathetic enough to want to shroud himself in darkness.

Damnit, there I go again...

He always did that, no matter how hard he tried to stop it, he always ended up being hard on himself. But sometimes...sometimes it just felt well deserved. Like it was a necessity to insult his own personality simply because nobody knew what his true personality was actually like.

Guy shook his head and sighed. Erase the thoughts, they're pointless. Just focus on the mist, that's all. Just focus on the mist...

...Why am I like this?...

Varios...no. That didn't sound quite right. Lord Varios sat before a tall, silver-framed mirror admiring the beauty that it reflected. That particular beauty, obviously, was none other than himself.

His form stood out in the reflection. Of course, he would've stood out no matter what the background, given his perfection and all. But having nothing but total, complete shadow engulfing his room made him stand out even more...something that he liked very much. No annoying colors to distract him from his perfect complexion.

Now, what could possibly stand out amongst pure, all-consuming shadow? Come on, even the simplest of knaves could figure that out. It's been repeated in poem after poem, used symbolically in tale after tale, recited in songs time and time again...white. White always prevailed over black, light over dark, 'good' over 'evil'...though Varios personally didn't believe in those last two terms.

He sported a white tuxedo. Everything touching his skin was white. The jacket, the tie, the leather shoes, even the shoe laces, all a snowy, creamy white. Why? Because it matched his heavenly body. Like an angel, Varios's body was pale and white. Even his hair was as white as the clouds that lingered in the springtime sky during the day.

And even the way his face was structured was angelic. Everything was very distinct and angular, which those of lesser intellect seemed to think is a bad thing. Throughout history, angular artwork had prevailed and had been passed down through the endless string of generations.

His most notable feature was his sweet, heavenly nose. God how he loved his nose. It was long, yes, but not long in the sense that it looked monstrous like a witch. That type of nose was ugly because it stuck out from the person's face like a diving board. But not Varios. No, no, no. His nose extended downward towards his chin, boasting it's longevity in all of it's proud glory.

A burst of yellow light emanated from behind him in the mirror and the silhouette of a woman's figure stood along with it.

"Ah, Sage," he grinned as he moved his wheelchair around to face her. "What brings you to my room at such an hour? Have you come seeking punishment? If so, I'm afraid I must decline. I'm beginning to get a bit tired and plan on retiring to my bed soon."

The red-haired woman stepped into the room and kneeled before her master like a knight before her king, "No, sire, I have not come to request divine punishment from you. I come bearing troubling news."

Varios arched an eyebrow. She was quite a beautiful woman, even when wrapped in the darkness. She had to be beautiful, of course. No ugly woman would be permitted to become one of his Maidens of Bondage. "Troubling news? Well, I certainly hope that it's not too troubling my dear. I do plan on getting a good night's sleep, you know."

"I know, sire. Please forgive me, you may punish me and the other Maidens when you are up to full strength."

"I think I just may do that. Now please, make haste with this news of yours."

Sage shifted uncomfortably in her leather get-up, "Well, sire, it appears to us that the last descendant of the Bushin line has...departed from New York."

"Departed?"

"Yes, departed." Varios reached down angrily to grab the leather collar strapped to her neck. Sage winced and spat out quickly, "However we have discovered his new location, sire! He flew to London, England by aircraft! The other two Maiden's are all ready arranging a flight for us to depart tomorrow!"

Varios glared with burning rage into the petite woman's fearful green eyes, his pale hand wrapped around and squeezing her collar tightly. He then sighed and released his grip, letting her collapse back to the floor "Tell Domino and Kail to prepare four tickets. This time I'll be traveling along with you three...I feel it's about time I solved this little peril of ours personally."

Sage got up and bowed, allowing him to clearly see her plump, luscious breasts, "Yes sire..."

She turned around to walk back out the door however Varios had decided that he wasn't quite so tired anymore. He raised a pondering hand to his chin and grinned maniacally, "On second thought dear, why don't you fetch the other Maidens and tell them to come here to my room. It feels as if the fairies of sleep have left my eyelids and have been replaced by fairies of punishment..."

Sage whipped around and began breathing heavily, the leather concealing her chest expanding as she did so, "Oh sire, we thank you from the depths of our souls. Your divine punishment shall surely provide us with the proper motivation to destroy the Bushin warrior."

Lord Varios waved a dismissive hand and wheeled himself over to the window to stare out at the stars. So, the little Bushin has fled, hmm? Well isn't this quite an interesting turn of events. I wonder what London's like this time of year? I haven't been there since my little...incident with those blasted traitors. Perhaps I should pay them a visit too...

You know what phrase was seriously overused? 'This is the life', that's what. At least, it was in Jettaron's humble little opinion. It seemed like no matter what a person was doing, whether they knew for a fact that they had enjoyed themselves much more in the past or not, they always said 'This is the life' at every pleasurable experience imaginable.

Well, that was just silly.

Now Jettaron, on the other hand. He knew exactly when the appropriate time was to say 'This is the life'. And that time was now.

There he sat, or...lounged might have been more accurate. There he lounged in Red Hammer's pool room. No, not like pool as in knockin' a bunch of balls around with a stick. Pool room as in swimming pool. As in beautiful, warm, bubbling, blue water.

There wasn't a sound in the blue-tiled room save for the mechanic hum of the jacuzzi's air-jets as they flung bubbles out to pummel the muscular curves of Jettaron's knotted back.

Hey, Guy's not the only one who needs some privacy. Even a social butterfly like m'self needs a little peace and quiet every now and then.

As the gunman lifted the aluminum can of Coors Light to his mouth to down the last drops of the yellow, alcoholic liquid inside, a sound interrupted the subliminal buzzing of the jacuzzi. The sound of the door opening.

Now normally Jettaron would've been kinda disappointed, maybe even a tad upset, at this little intrusion. However what had walked through the door not only caused him to not experience the said emotions, but actually caused him to feel a very well-known emotion: feelin' lucky.

"Now this is the life," the gunman muttered to himself as he tied his wet, black hair back into a short pony-tail.

What had stepped into the blue pool room was a woman. And a damn fine-lookin' one at that. Her skin tone was one of those 'happy medium' pigments. You know, not ridiculously tan like a friggin' orange, but not as pale as a ghost like...well, like Steven or somethin'.

And that skin tone went along quite nicely with those thick, golden-blonde curls that draped alongside her face. And of course, the big, sky-blue puppy dog eyes couldn't go without mention either.

"Do you mind if I join you?" she chimed as she slipped her petite feet into the bubbling surface of the water. Her bright red bikini was really, really tight.

Jettaron grinned, "No, no. Not at all. You just go ahead and make yourself comfortable there."

"Heehee. Well, thanks!" the blonde goddess slid her body in the rest of the way. "Your name's Jettaron, right?"

"Yup, that's me! How'd you know? Did my reputation spread across this whole place all ready?"

"Something like that!" she then grinned like a giddy school-girl with straight A's. The girl was playing with him, and they both knew it. No harm in playing along, right?

Jettaron stretched and leaned back with his hands behind his head, "So, now we're at the part where you tell me your name. Am I right?"

"Nope! That really won't be necessary!"

Jettaron laughed, "Oh really? And why do you say that?"

The curly-blonde giggled and beamed happily, "Because I'm here to kill you, silly!!"

"Eh? Hold on, run that by me again?"

SHINK!

"Yeeeeeow!" the gunman felt a sharp pain in the back of his neck, it felt kinda like a bee sting. "What the...?" He yanked out what had pricked him and held it out in front of him. It was a tiny, silver dart with an even tinier red feather at the end of it.

"Well, shit," was the last thing he said before collapsing face-first with a splash into the water.

"All right, it's done. Great work, Guido. Now let's get him out of here before somebody comes in. I'm sure Mr. Bell will me more than pleased with us."

Guy leapt off of the black, slate rooftop. I wonder what Jettaron's up to. The soles of his red Converse sneakers softly tapped down on the damp cobblestone. Didn't he say something about the pool room before I left? Maybe I'll swing by there...Jettaron can usually take me out of my little moods. Even if he doesn't realize it...

The Bushin pulled on the thick, yellow arm-pads that covered his forearms. Odd, they had always fit just fine in the past.

"Must be losing weight," Guy muttered. He slipped the pads off of his arms and decided to carry them under his arm.

"Steven!" Guy snapped his fingers, not even realizing he was now thinking out loud. "He's usually quiet and stand-offish. Perhaps he feels the same self-consciousness that I do. Maybe I should ask him about it..."

The thought intimidated him, though. What if Steven actually was the 'silent type'? Then Guy would have revealed himself for nothing, and that wasn't a situation that appealed to him at all.

The orange ninja sighed, "I suppose I have no choice, really. I've got to ask someone about it eventually, might as well be him and might as well be now."

With that final, verbal thought, Guy strapped his slightly loose armpads back on, and walked back towards Red Hammer; keeping his thoughts contained within his mind and his face as emotionless as possible.

"Flight 304 to London is now boarding. All passengers, please report to Gate C. Again, flight 304 to London is now boarding..."

"That's us, sire," Sage whispered into her master's ear as she wheeled him towards the gate. She was wearing a beige trench-coat and hat. Lord Varios had, of course, ordered his maidens to do so. Indecent exposure was quite the troublesome citation, especially in an area as populated as an airport.

Speaking of which, there were far too many people here. People were bad. People were...annoying.

"Hi! Welcome to United Airlines! May I see your tickets and passports, please?" beamed the over-zealous young man at the gate.

Varios and his three maidens (they were all wearing the same coat and hat combination) did as the lad requested.

"Hmm..." he quickly skimmed through their tickets and passports, then handed them each back. "All righty, then! Everything checks out okay! You can go ahead and enter through this corridor here behind me."

"Yes, yes. We know how to board an aircraft properly, thank you very much," Varios rolled his eyes as Sage pushed him through the white tunnel leading towards the plane.

The smiling, make-up covered faces of two female flight attendants came into view.

"Why, hello sir! Welcome aboard!" one of the stewardesses with brown hair knelt down so she was at eye-level with the Lord. "Do you need any help getting into your seat?"

"Do I what?" a gasp was heard from the three maidens behind him. They knew exactly how much he hated being treated like he was...ugh, handicapped. "Are you insinuating that because my legs cannot function properly, I can't accomplish something as simplistic as getting into a seat?"

The attendant looked very confused, "Um, well no sir, I didn't mean that I..."

"You were condescending," Varios leaned forward so his pointed nose was almost touching hers. "Condescending and ignorant. Who hired you anyway? If I were running this airline, insolent bimbos like yourself wouldn't be permitted to work here."

Satisfied with rendering the nimrod (as well as the other passengers and staff) temporarily mute, Lord Varios flipped his hair out of his face and rode down the aisle, his maidens following awkwardly behind.

This is going to be quite a long flight...

Okay, let's get one thing straight here. Jettaron didn't like not knowing where he was, at all. In fact, he couldn't stand it when he didn't know where he was. It was like a pet peeve or something. One of those things that just drove you absolutely nuts, like having an itch on your back that's juuuust out of reach.

Ironically enough, Jettaron had no fucking clue where he was.

A little beat-down is DEFINITELY in order for whoever did this...

He couldn't see, either. That was just annoying. And...damn, he needed a cigarette real bad.

He would've gladly reached into his pocket and removed his happy-pack but as luck would have it, his arms were tied behind his back.

Okay, not tied; chained.

Being chained to a chair and not being able to see anything when he didn't know where he was suuuuuuuuuuucked.

The gunman cocked his head back and groaned. He expected to hear the sound of his suede hat tapping on the ground, however that was not the case. Meaning they had also taken his hat, which also sucked.

"ARGH!" he couldn't stand it! When he found out who did this, they'd regret the day they messed with Jettaron Salazar, that was for sure!

Of course, that'd have to wait 'till after he got his cigarette.

Did he mention not knowing where he was really, REALLY pissed him off?

Now I know how a blind person feels...