The
morning had come for the penthouse allegiance of Mark, Violetta, Steven,
Melina, the Titans, Sofia and Yukio to set forth on destroying the very sword
they had sought to wield. Marchanda beckoned everyone to the Foyer of Pending
Annihilation to confirm their departure to the rest of the Legion. “Hurry the
fuck up!” she began. “Everybody else is waiting and possibly crying.” All but
Mark and Steven had complied. “Steven’s still paranoid over losing Mark or
himself.” Yukio explained.
Marchanda instructed the others to
meet with the Legion. She had to convince Steven that Yukio had indeed seen the
both of them together. She pried him off of Mark and did her best. “Steven...I
know you’re uneasy about pursuing the mission at hand, but like it or not this
is Mark’s genetics at fault here. This is not any punishment against you for
not loving him enough.” Mark nudged him and said, “She succinctly explained why
I’m fucked out of this bed we made. Now let’s defeat useless people who will
most likely be Soul Calibur or other fighting game knockoffs.” Despite his
skepticism, Steven only non-verbally acknowledged that their concerns had been
taken to heart.
When reunited with the other
penthouse allegiance members, Wilhelmina bid adieu to them for the time being.
Ganymede had been silent until he confirmed that he would supervise the Legion
for the time being. “Well, this is it; remember...if we were to not come back,
who do you all become?” The Legion replied, “We’ll always be the Legion! Mainly
because even we realized that we wouldn’t want to be called the Dallas
Cowboys!” “I promised myself I wouldn’t cry, but here goes these tears of joy.”
Violetta said. “Ew...you’re crying out of something that touched you in a
positive light.” Melina chimed. “Save it for actual crying moments; death,
paying bills, sadness or even being forced to listening to ‘Blurred Lines’ as a
last resort.”
After saying goodbye, the penthouse
allegiance embarked on the final journey. According to the map of the final
journey Yukio had drawn up, the Malagasy Impala would actually act as a final
tower of combat. Along the way, they would meet with fighters that would claim
their need for the Sword of Coke ‘N Whores was greater than anyone else’s.
“Ok...according to this map, our first fight will be near a vaguely Egyptian
landscape.” Mark noted. “Let’s assume this fighter will be a bandit type or
something lame like that.”
Forty-four minutes elapsed until
they arrived at the vaguely Egyptian landscape and Mark was slated to confront
his opponent he spotted from afar. When he tapped him on the shoulder with the
Blade of Cartagena, his opponent turned to face him. “What’s your name?” he
began. “I need to know of it so I can have the person mark your grave
properly.” His opponent replied, “My name is Rolfe. I shall be the victor with
my desire for the Sword of Coke ‘N Whores being much greater than yours.” “Bore
me with how you ended up in this fucking landscape anyway.” Mark taunted. Rolfe
scolded him and replied, “My family and homeland were gutted of their
existence. The sword is all I have to face those who robbed me of my family and
homeland.” Mark simply and darkly quipped, “Those marauders must’ve felt bad
for wasting their time instead of doing something productive with their time.”
Rolfe swung his axe at him, starting
the fight. Mark was only thrown off for a small amount of time. When he
expediently regained his cognizance he noted that Rolfe was planning a “heroic”
finishing move when he would use all his strength for an attack. Mark knew an
attack like that would require concentration more so than strength. To hurry
the attack, he simply lacerated Rolfe’s legs and arms causing his concentration
to dwindle. Rolfe was playing into his trap and decided to crescendo when he
grunted and used all his might for his “heroic” attack. When he swung and missed, Mark’s sword had
pierced through Rolfe’s ribcage through the
other
side of his body. “This can’t be...” he said in his dying breath. Mark withdrew
his sword and kicked Rolfe’s body away from him. “Too bad it was. Now I feel
terrible for the people that have to embalm you.” he said. He sauntered back to
the dune buggy, already growing impatient for the next bout.
He was partially relieved when he
found that he wouldn’t be the only person that would have to fight in the final
journey. Sofia did press him as to why he was acting out at the process. “Even
Yukio didn’t foresee this type of aggression from you. What gives?” He replied,
“That sword should’ve been a panacea for my transgressions. Instead, I have to
risk life, limb and my lover to destroy this fucking thing.” “You know that you
two are going to be together through this, right?” Yukio chimed. “I know, but
goddamnit I wanted two cool swords I could have to my name.” Steven defended
him saying, “At least he’s truthful.”
The next stop would be in a vaguely
Mediterranean landscape thirty-five minutes away. There, Violetta decided to
face the opponent whilst wielding the Blade of Cartagena. Apparently, a
requisite of battle was that the person who offered to fight had to do so with
the Blade of Cartagena as their primary weapon. She called for her opponent and
her opponent was a woman whose appearance had the penthouse allegiance groan
out of disbelief. Violetta channeled them and told her, “If you had lost
sisters named Valentina, Adelaide, Dionysia and Alyssum and in that order, I’ll
kill you right after you say your name.” She replied, “My name’s Nadine Perot
and I deserve a chance to explain myself.” Violetta acted on her word and
finished Nadine in one hit. “No!” she wailed. “I can’t get less story time than
Alyssum! I can’t!”
Violetta replied, “You just did. Now
shut up and quit staining this sword already.”
She returned to the dune buggy and
told Melina to proceed to the next point of travel. “Did she at least have an
interesting name?” she asked Violetta. “Depends on the last time you gave a
fuck about anyone named Nadine.” she retorted. “Point well taken.” Melina
chimed. Thirty-seven minutes away was a vaguely Tuscan landscape. Marchanda
offered to take the next fight. “If I come back crying, it means I felt it was
waste of time.” she quipped. She spotted the opponent, a suave Casanova type
who answered to the name, Emmanuel. “So, I get to fight a beautiful lady? It’s
about time the opponents were easy on the eyes.” he remarked. Marchanda decided
to play dirty with her prey. “I understand you’re the only beautiful fighter in
these parts.” she purred. Wilhelmina sensed what she was doing. “Pure evil,
that bitch is. Pure goddamn evil.” she thought.
Marchanda beckoned Emmanuel for
contact. “It’s about time you had to be the one speechless.” Emmanuel played
into the trap perfectly. “Such a beautiful woman calling for me...it must be my
lucky day.” The rate he was walking had Marchanda switch her tactic a bit. “Why
don’t you show me some of your moves?” she asked. He complied unaware that her
tactic would bring about his mortality. He shadowboxed and roundhouse kicked
the air for her. “Now you show me one of your moves.” he insisted. “Close your
eyes.” she purred.
“Do I get to peek?” he rhetorically
queried.
“Not until you feel it, silly.” she
quipped.
He waited and asked, “Now?”
“No, silly. Not yet.” she replied.
“How about now? I hate being teased
like this.”
She
drew the sword and pierced his heart. The feeling of the attack opened his
eyes.
“I hope there’s a place in hell for
scumbags like you.” she finished.
Marchanda emerged victorious and
miraculously not in tears over the time consumed in the bout. Wilhelmina nudged
her and said, “You whore. You may not have done it, but still...you whore.”
Marchanda replied, “Well, fuck off. I did everything I had to get him close
enough so I could kill him. I’d never put forth that much effort into killing a
scumbag and you know that.”
The journey continued and thirty minutes
later, they arrived at a vaguely Southeast Asian water mill valley. Wilhelmina
decided to take the battle and called for her opponent to show themselves.
“Come out, come out wherever you are. The sooner I kill you, the sooner we’ll
both be relieved.” she taunted. Her opponent was an adolescent male who for all
his vim and vigor, showed his weaknesses in flair. “I am the budding legend,
Aflingah. My village has given me the strength to take anyone in battle who
dares venture for the Sword of Coke ‘N Whores.”
Wilhelmina swung her sword and drew
blood when she lacerated his abdomen. Aflingah was floored at the sight of his
own blood. “What is the meaning of this?” he asked. She stabbed him and was
able to lift him with the Blade of Cartagena towards the edge of the water
mill’s platform. Below was a drop to certain death. “Aspergers...or whatever
the hell your name is...” Wilhelmina began. “Any last words before I send you
to your death below?” He looked at her and said, “Tell my village that I am
with the angels.” She then released him and he plummeted to his death with
little screaming. “A note to this village!” she started. “Whatever his name was
that I just sent to the bottom of this place...he wanted me to tell you that
his sins were so great that he was given his own ring in the pits of hell.”
When she arrived back to the dune
buggy, Melina glared at her for being rather brash with the villagers. “He may
have deserved it because he was in our way, but you could’ve at least made
something less unoriginal up on the spot.” she said. “How am I supposed to live
with myself ‘respecting the wishes’ of someone who deserved it?” Wilhelmina
replied.
Putting their conflicted sentiments
aside, they pressed on to the next fight which would actually reside in a
locale they found fascinating. After forty minutes of travel, the penthouse
allegiance happened upon a landmark that was certified an exact recreation of the
“Kaminoi Castle - Sakura-Dai Gate” from Soul Calibur II. “I admit that
something this seemingly useless has pretty nice aesthetics.” Violetta noted.
“I had no idea you could sound like a straight man.” Melina quipped.
Steven offered to fight the opponent
at this stop. He called for the opponent to show themselves. “Alright, you
inevitable corpse. Make yourself vaguely known as I drain the blood out of
you.” His opponent stepped forward and said, “You’re quite rude, even for
someone with bloodlust. My name is Che and I need to avenge the death of my
lover, Olivier. Stand in my way any longer and my fists will make sure you drop
your britches to chew your food.” Steven scoffed at her notion. “You’ll find
out how much of a mistake you made once your blood hits the ground. Ready to
die?” He swung the Blade of Cartagena and managed to nick her leg. “That’s the
only attack you’ll land on me.” she swore.
Their bout would last a full hour.
Swords were clanking for fifty-nine of those sixty minutes. “Are they fighting
or welding a shield together?” Sofia asked. “I think the opponent just likes to
avoid the death they deserve.” Marchanda chimed in. “Those that deserve to die
often do their best to stave it off.” Melina added. Eventually, at the sixty minute
mark is when a fatal error cost Che the fight and her life. She attempted a
“heroic” move when she lifted the sword high above her head. Steven saw the
hole in her defense and thrust the Blade of Cartagena in her chest and pulled
the sword upwards to finish her off quicker. “Consider this a luxurious death
in that it was expedient. It’s a gift others have tried to attain in life. A
rather sick quandary, if you could still be able bodied enough to think about
such a concept.” he said.
Steven emerged from the
battlegrounds with the intent of resting. “No more battles for me until we get
to the Malagasy Impala.” he advised. The allegiance was surprisingly compliant.
“Fair enough...you seem exacerbated and drained at who you had to fight.”
Marchanda noted. Melina then drove to the next plot point on the journey. “This
seems like a battle I have to take. The area we’re approaching brings back
memories...” she paused herself to see that the opponent awaiting any of the
fighters was a familiar face. She continued, “...of a rival who made my fucking
blood boil.” She grabbed the Blade of Cartagena and sought her opponent.
The scenery was reminiscent of a Rudyard
Kipling novel. Lush topography and native beauty being squandered by lavish,
decadent and tacky European flair. The woman who Melina despised ever so much
called this ostentatious abomination her home. “Do I hear the footsteps of a
woman in cheap heels or is that my ‘darling friend’ Melina acting out her
emotional stress?” she posed. “Hello, Christiana. I see your sunny disposition
towards me hasn’t changed a bit.” Christiana replied, “Melina, I’d look at you
and say hello whilst paying lip service but I don’t need to ravage my face with
your looks.” “I’m surprised God hasn’t afflicted you with a condition I’d
gladly miss your funeral for.” Melina retorted.
“You petulant slattern.” Christiana
uttered.
“Face me so we can end this.” Melina
fired back.
“Why should I listen to you?”
“We should end our rivalry face to
face. Like ladies.”
“I scoff at your notion and wish to
die by natural causes.”
Melina
drew the Blade of Cartagena and thrust it through Christiana. She looked down
to see the sword drip with her life now slipping away by the seconds. “This
cannot be!” she shrieked. “Sorry, bitch. However, you had it coming and even
you can’t deny that.” Melina quipped.
She walked back to the dune buggy
looking nearly in the same condition she had before battle. “This wasn’t
exactly a knockout, drag out fight was it?” Wilhelmina rhetorically posed. “All
I can say is the bitch was never an ally of mine.” Melina replied. As
disappointed as she was at the lack of torn textile against Melina’s body,
Marchanda overlooked how low key the bout had turned out to be. “Well, at least
another stupid person is dead.” Violetta was beginning to sense that these
fights were part of a seemingly grander ambush against them. “Why are these
fights relatively easy?” she pondered. Yukio chimed, “There is no ambush to
concern yourself with. You forget I saw everything that happened before our
journey to the Malagasy Impala began.” Violetta replied, “This is why I like
you, ‘Spoiler Alert’. You prevent people from acting out on pointless emotional
outbursts.”
Twenty-nine minutes later, they
arrived at the next locale in a vaguely lavish casino setting. Sofia would be
the next of the penthouse allegiance to wield the Blade of Cartagena against
the ensemble of unworthy interlopers in the way. As she located the secluded
but still disgustingly opulent area where the fight was to take place, she
heard a male’s voice try to beckon her towards his voice. “You must follow the
sounds of my voice to face me.” he said. “At least tell me your ‘ninja’ name
before I try.” Sofia purred. Having orchestrated the ideal trap, he replied,
“My name is Yasushi and by the time you feel my presence, you will have died.”
Little did he realize he would attack right where Sofia would want him to. She
thought, “May your voice be the reason this sword has a body on it when
raised.”
She raised the sword and felt
Yasushi’s blood dripping down the blade. “Curses! How did you expect this?” he
asked. “Like it matters now, idiot.” she began. “You’re dead and my ride’s
waiting to destroy the Sword of Coke ‘N Whores.” She sauntered off and gave the
blade to Yukio. “Next stop, your fight against an interloper.” she told her. As
the road to the next fight lay
ahead,
Yukio had Melina pull the dune buggy over fifteen minutes into the drive.
“What’s this about?” she asked. Yukio opened the trunk where the soldier of
Alyssum Perot had been laying, miraculously being alive on sight. “How long has
he been in there?!” Steven asked. “Long enough to survive in a trance I put him
in while he was asleep.” Yukio replied. She dragged the soldier out of the
trunk and with the wave of her hand, the soldier was out of the trance. “Listen
to me. When I toss you to the opponent, you’re to do nothing to defend
yourself. You are merely decoy and of no further use.”
The soldier was tossed in the dune
buggy and the other twenty minutes had them arrive at a vaguely Japanese dojo.
Yukio and the soldier rushed to where their opponent had been waiting. She
chucked the soldier at her opponent to throw him off of his game. “Oof...what
is the meaning of this?!” he asked. “You’re in the way.” Yukio began. “Tell me
your name and why you think The Sword of Coke ‘N Whores should mean more to you
than my allegiance.” He replied, “My name is Joseph Schaeffer. That sword you
speak of will help me rid the lives of those who sold out the Costa Amethyst
Royal Military troop 867 faction 5309 and nearly cost a nation a war.” She
replied, “What an interesting and vivid lie you just relayed. Whoever you were,
now you’re dead.” Leaping into the air, Yukio landed on “Joseph” and stabbed him
in the heart. Twisting the blade as assurance, she looked at the soldier.
“You’ve done your job. Now it’s time you just die of natural causes.” she said.
“So, you’re not going to kill me?” he asked. She responded, “Like I said,
you’ve done your job. You’re the only person that can say they ran from the
Legion and...just kidding. Look; a bullet!” The soldier fell prey to Yukio’s
trap. “I knew he’d fall for that.” she thought.
She emerged from the vaguely
Japanese dojo with only the Blade of Cartagena in hand. “Now all we need is a
fun little forty minute drive to the Malagasy Impala.” she said.
As she had said, forty minutes later
lay the final landmark of Mark’s cursed journey towards The Sword of Coke ‘N
Whores. The Malagasy Impala was once a towering bastion of “hip, cool” fusion
cuisine, before The Sword of Coke ‘N Whores and its wielder transformed it into
a needless fortress of the same name. “There are twenty floors of this
bastardized restaurant turned fortress. Getting to the top of this plot point
requires the willingness to put up with even more pointless back stories.” Mark
noted. Marchanda and Violetta spotted the first set of opponents training on
the first floor. “They’ll be easier than playing pranks on Helen Keller.”
Marchanda said.
As they sauntered to the doors, they
were accosted by a troop of Hajinmon enthusiasts. “That’s as far as you go,
ginger dick.” one said to Mark. Violetta grabbed an Uzi and shot the entire
troop of Hajinmon enthusiasts. “Even I stopped calling him that.” Violetta
said. Melina opened the doors to discover that the troop that had accosted them
weren’t alone. “Oh shit...” Wilhelmina began. “I thought losers like these had
been reduced to local conventions as the town’s laughing stock.” “Please, even
local conventions don’t need to be embarrassed with them on their records.”
Steven chimed.
The Hajinmon enthusiasts grew
agitated over their commentary. Their leader, XX*RyU*HaYaBuSa*XX, demanded that
they focus on challenging them. “Enough of this ‘Algonquin Round Table’
nonsense.” he began. “We’re defending the Sword of Coke ‘N Whores against your
kind...just because. Draw your weapons, and no ‘saving your energy’ type of
shenanigans. You fight us with everything you have.” “Don’t tell us how to
fight, bitch.” Melina retorted. “Just one reminder, before we start.”
Wilhelmina began. “Make sure your impractical costuming rips off easy. We do
you a fashion related favor and we take you out of your...how do I phrase
nicely...motherfucking pathetic existences.”
The Hajinmon enthusiasts lunged at
them but the Titans had already unleashed the digital barrage of hatred. The
“4Chan” had been resurrected and the Tri-force had been seared into their skin.
The shrieking irritated the penthouse allegiance but none irritated them more
so than the shrieking of XX*RyU*HaYaBuSa*XX. “Aaaaaaaaaaaaagggggggggggggggggh!”
and other fatal onomatopoeias had been emitted at decibel shattering levels.
“Enough of them.” Yukio began. “Mark, channel some inner strength shit and wipe
them out. We’ll be waiting for you on the fifth floor. Don’t ask why it’s the
fifth and just do it.” As they were heading up the stairs, Mark’s inner
strength had caused the Blade of Cartagena to attain a cobalt blue aura. He
merely swung the sword and witnessed the aura render the Hajinmon enthusiasts
to bones.
Mark then rushed to meet with the
others as they had trekked to the fifth floor. “Now what?” he asked Melina. “We
fight the fifth floor of bad guys. Would’ve been every floor but the second
through fourth floors had no one worthy of challenging us.” she replied. “And
before you ask, they were nothing more than subordinates to other syndicates
that are pretty much shells of what they were.” Marchanda added. Mark
understood and had the penthouse allegiance start the fight. However, he noted
Yukio was despondent looking and curled near an A/C unit. “Yukio?” he queried.
“What have you been hiding from us health wise?” “Nothing that will lead to my
mortality.” she began. “My abilities are being dwindled as we travel higher in
this goddamn place. This parchment has all the information on who needs to be
defeated first to start the domino effect for the floors worth your time.”
“How do I know you’re not bluffing?”
he pressed.
“I was barely seeing anything as we
were moving up the floors.” she retorted. “I wouldn’t lie about something this
seriously.”
“Now what?” he asked. “I can still
fight.” she assured.
After defeating the enemies of the
fifth floor, the rest of the journey towards the Sword of Coke ‘N Whores would
turn out to be easier than even Yukio’s dossier had suggested. Floors six
through ten would be dominated by Mark and Violetta. The highlight of floor six
came when Mark performed the “Mesopotamian Kabob” on all but five of the
enemies. The remaining five were frightened to where they had died of a fatal
stroke. “Finally! An apropos example of a ‘stroke of genius’.” Wilhelmina
noted. The highlight of the seventh floor came when Violetta only used the
lower half of her body to vanquish forty men. “I have to give myself a round of
applause.” she taunted.
The eighth floor glory was a joint
effort between the two. The “Merry Go ‘Round” would immortalize the bloodlust
of the penthouse allegiance’s two most vicious members. Even after copious
amounts of blood had been spilled from their enemies, Violetta had continued to
attack by beating them into a pulp. “Just a bit of ‘Munich Cosmetic Surgery’ on
you and then you’ll be fit for hell and hell adjacent.” she taunted. The ninth
floor was a tad more challenging, but once Mark realized that Yukio’s dossier
was intended as an asset he used it to his justified advantage. He jimmy-rigged
a table and grabbed the ring blade from Violetta and once the blade was
calibrated, the others knew what was coming.
“I...err we get to see the Croatian
Buzzsaw being performed?” Melina wondered.
“Well, we are some lucky bitches for
this.” Marchanda noted.
“I wish I had a camera for this.”
Steven said.
“Here...just press the camera icon
on the pad.” Marchanda offered.
“Oh it came out perfect.” Steven
gleefully chimed.
All
the while, the leader of the ninth floor was squirming but Wilhelmina
sickeningly taunted, “Well it’s either this, or I could’ve gone with my
original plan and giving you the ‘4Chan’.”
The tenth floor was a victory attained
Melina, Steven and the Titans. Melina’s legs ached after her share of enemies
had been eliminated. She had spent her entire bout giving powerful blows with
her knees and kicking the temples of mere plot points in. “My legs feel hotter
than Popeye’s spicy chicken.” she uttered. Steven had elbowed and sliced his
way to victory. Those unlucky enough to be near him would face an interestingly
agonizing death. Even though the trauma was blunt, Steven intentionally made
their deaths more brutal. As he would see his opponents come close to
succumbing to death, he grabbed a tank of adrenaline and struck their hearts
with a dose of it, only to slice them open and punch them more. “Don’t you
think he’s taking things a little far?” Sofia asked Mark. “I let that man slap
me around while wearing high heels in the shower but with Dr. Pepper being
poured on me. I don’t know too far anymore.” he replied. “Sorry for the image.”
“I thought it’d be Diet Coke, to be honest.” she chimed.
The Titans attained immortality and
victory for infecting their opponents with Trojan computer viruses. The
transition from functioning to malfested was expedient enough to startle even
Yukio. “Take it from someone whose psychic abilities are being repressed in
this goddamn place...I did not see this shit coming.” “Wow...way to tell us
this as we’re only halfway up this place.” Wilhelmina snipped. “I have a
dossier of what Yukio saw before she entered this place.” Mark assured. Then
steps were heard as an ensemble of some type was nearing the penthouse
allegiance. “We should’ve killed floors two through four no matter if they were
useless.” Sofia said. The voice responded, “We already did and you’re not
kidding. They were useless.” “Ganymede?” Melina asked.
Ganymede and the Legion were at their
side again. He had Yukio come closer to him and when she clenched onto his
robe, she found herself at her peak psychic abilities. “I thank you.” she said.
He ripped a piece of his robe and tied her hair in a ponytail. “This will help
you.”
The
eleventh through nineteenth floors would actually be handled by the Legion. “We
owe this to you, so that the Sword of Coke ‘N Whores can be defeated cleanly.”
the Legion leader said. Ganymede had teleported everyone not handling the
eleventh floor to their respected posts. Only he and the penthouse allegiance
would see the gates of the twentieth floor. “The creator and its cursed
creation lay beyond these doors. Everybody ready themselves as Yukio breaks
down the door like a mad woman.” Ganymede advised. They took him at his words
once she was swinging her fists in a frenzy breaking the doors of the twentieth
floor down. Once that final crack had been heard, the open doors revealed the
previously unread twentieth floor note on Yukio’s dossier. A dead body with
their prize sifting in the blood.
“What the hell?” Melina asked.
“Mark...what did she write down for the twentieth floor?” Steven pressed. He
scanned for the twentieth floor note and read, “Only the sword stands in the
corpse of its creator.” “So what now? Our tech can’t detect if that body is a
latent zombie or some shit.” Wilhelmina noted. Ganymede recited an incantation
that destroyed the corpse. Its splattering with no spiritual reaction indicated
that above any and all reasonable doubts, the Sword of Coke ‘N Whores had been
essentially vulnerable for at least Mark’s livelihood. Before he was prompted,
he took the Blade of Cartagena and swung.
“Is he just supposed to swing?!”
Steven worried.
“Worry not of him, dear boy.”
Ganymede assured.
“He isn’t going to die.” Yukio
chimed.
The shattering sound heard after
that emitted a disturbingly cheery looking light. “What the hell?” Mark
pondered. “Was this it? A simple shattering of a sword that drove men insane
and we walk away from it in a snap? Shit, it was just like a journey in Soul
Calibur.” When the light came, Yukio removed the hair tie and discovered she
still had her peak abilities. Mark had
the
others round up the Legion, but asked Steven to stay. “Comfort me, Steven. I
need to feel the satisfaction I should’ve felt from this journey before the
plot change happened.” He replied, “Honey...I know you wanted absolute power;
or spiritual cleansing or something like that. However, you kind of had to
sense that the idea of a weapon being a panacea was absurd in some regards.”
Mark concurred but still felt a lack of satisfaction. Yukio re-entered the room
and told him, “Satisfaction will come to you once we leave this god-awful
place. Ganymede is on his way to cleanse the room of the sword’s presence; to
prevent a type of adventure like this happening again.” He, Yukio and Steven
joined the others at the entrance to the Malagasy Impala as Ganymede made his
way in.
They watched as Ganymede cleansed
the entire vicinity of the sword to act as a catalyst to the disturbingly
cheery light that had yet to take form. “Disturbingly cheery light, unite with
my ‘Mr. Clean: Magic Eraser’ type of cleansing and rid the spirit of the Sword
of Coke ‘N Whores from this basilisk of misery.” His cleansing aura and the
disturbingly cheery light fused and its vivid color scheme had partially
stunned the Legion. “It looks like the asshole of a Technicolor TV.” Violetta
chimed. “I would’ve said a chameleon’s semen, but dirty minds think alike,
right?” Melina stated. “I thought ‘great minds’ think alike.” Wilhelmina said.
“That’s what I said, you treasonous whore.” Melina retorted.
Eventually, the vivid color had
faded and the cleansing had finished. Ganymede
transported himself to the outside and prompted Mark to act on what to do next.
“What happens to this place is completely up to you.” he assured. “He’ll choose
to destroy this place from the ground up.” Yukio chimed. “She’s right.” Mark
said. “Don’t you want to turn this place into a siphoning den of gambling
addiction or indulgent food stuffs?” Sofia pressed. “I may have bloodlust and
want short term satisfaction, but the math skills for business aren’t there.”
he
quipped.
“Well, at least you’re self aware.” Marchanda noted. “That isn’t totally by
choice.” Steven began. “He isn’t creative enough to lie.”
After light versions of playing the
dozens, Mark swung the Blade of Cartagena and watched as its energy tore down
the basilisk of misery known as the Malagasy Impala. Its decadent, opulent and
ostentatious décor was now becoming matte reminders of its now former glory.
“Anything that’s not broken is ours to loot, correct?” Melina queried. “If it
isn’t entirely useless, go for it.” Wilhelmina replied. As the last of the
décor hit the ground, the Malagasy Impala laid forever in ruin. “Alright,
everyone. Scavenge and find shit worth keeping.” Ganymede ordered.
The Legion scavenged through the
remnants of the fortress and found seemingly meager items in Mark’s perspective.
The crowns of once prominent and cruel rulers; ten decorative chests each
containing $50,000; weapons hand crafted by fabled blacksmiths; documents
relaying active ownership titles to fifteen of the world’s most profitable
gemstone purveyors. “This is all nice, but something tells me there’s more
hidden somewhere.” Mark pondered. Yukio chimed, “Goddamnit...I was hoping you’d
take satisfaction through these treasures, but look near where the antler
decorations of the fourth floor fell to.” Wilhelmina was flabbergasted by
Mark’s seemingly blasé attitude towards the findings. “Sorry, but crowns of
asshole rulers; $500,000 bucks total; weapons made by dudes who were mentioned
in childhood folklore and pretty much the deeds of fifteen gemstone purveyors
whose executives I’ve seen bathe in caviar and the tears of poor children and
this son of a bitch wants more?!” “He’ll want everything along with what he’ll
find so believe me when I say he’s just throwing a hissy fit.” Yukio assured.
Near the area Yukio spoke of, Mark
had found a small box that he knew a diamond ring came in. He opened the box
and discovered one of the most fabled treasures in his frame of reference. “Now
I know satisfaction outside of sleeping with Steven.” he said. “Yukio, what the
hell is Mark looking at?” Sofia wondered. Mark ran over to them so they could
see what his elation was rooted in. They stared in amazement and had Yukio
confirm his finding. “Please tell me that’s the actual...you know...” Marchanda
anxiously pressed. Mark interjected, “It’s the Soul of Jules!” “You’re kidding
me. I’m looking at the diamond ring crafted in honor of the Pulp Fiction
character, Jules Winnfield, known as the Soul of Jules?” Steven asked. Yukio
assured that this fabled treasure was indeed the Soul of Jules. “The one true
internally flawless diamond ring ever crafted.”
Mark had the Legion rounded up and
decided to settle in the Titans’ hometown of Seoulskatchewan. “With these
treasures, you two acting as the savage businesswomen you are and Melina being
the most vibrant political connection we have...gentlemen and ladies of the
Legion; we could eat forever and barely have to kill stupid people!” Ganymede
although skeptical, transported the Legion to Seoulskatchewan to act on Mark’s
newfound satisfaction.
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