Date: Monday, February 21, 2011.

  Location: Chikara Dojo, atown, Manhattan, New York

  The air inside Chikara Dojo hummed with the rhythmic thud of fists a striking training pads. At the ter stood Colleen Wing, her instrus crisp and clear, slig through the air with the same precision she sought to instill iudents' movements. With eaand, she demonstrated a teique, her eyes missing nothing as she aowledged each improvement and corrected every misstep with a nurturi firm hand. In trast to the synized group being instructed, Tyson practiced alone in a secluded se of the dojo. His presence was both part of the dojo yet distinctly apart. He wielded a ninjato, a single-edged sword simir to a katana but shorter and with a straight bde instead of curved. Every ssh and thrust he executed was crisp, hoo a level that while short of mastery, few could aspire to reach.

  Tyson stood at an imposing 6'6", more than a head above everyone else in the dojo. His chiseled features and muscur build cut an intimidating figure even when ign the sword in his hand. His brown skin was covered by a full-body bck outfit that he had taken to wearing while training and his mismatched blue-green eyes were alight with fierce tration as he flowed through kata after kata. Around him, the rhythms of the dojo tinued unabated. Students grappled, punched, and kicked in discipliion as Colleen Wing moved among them, her firm yet encing voice guiding them through plex forms and sparring sessions, shaping them into martial artists. Tyson was a study in solitary self-improvement, challenging himself with every subtle movement of the bde, seeking to surpass his limits. He executed a series of intricate maneuvers, the ninjat through the air with deadly precision.

  As the st echoes of the css's disciplined practice faded, Colleen escorted them outside. She opehe door of the Chikara Dojo audents dispersed into the evening, returning to their mundane lives. But Colleen's observant gaze fell upon a group of people approag the dojo. Her eyes lit up with reition and warmth at the sight of the man leading them. Bakuto. The man who had not only recruited and trained her, but gifted her this very dojo.

  Bakuto approached with the quiet fidence of a man long aced to and. Of medium height and leanly muscur, he moved with a martial artist's easy grace. His hair was trimmed short, the messiness styled rather than careless, and his keen eyes missed nothing as he surveyed his surroundings. His business casual attire and artfully u beard lent him a casual air. As he drew nearer, a small, knowing smile pyed about his lips. Colleen couldn't help but return it, warmth and familiarity lighting her features. When he reached her, they embraced briefly in a quick hug that spoke of years of trust and shared history.

  "I saw your students leaving as we arrived," Bakuto said, stepping back to look her over appraisingly. "You've done well for yourself, Colleen. This pce thrives under your care. It's better than I had hoped."

  Colleen's eyes shoh quiet pride. "The credit is yours, Bakuto. It is my honor to carry on the work you began."

  With an invitiure, she led Bakuto and his panions into the dojo. Bakuto's gaze traveled over the meticulously maintained space before resting on Tyson, who tinued his solitary practice, heedless of the departed students or the new arrivals. He moved through his kata with a singur focus, the rest of the dojo merely a backdrop as he lost himself iions. His form spoke of long hours devoted to honing his skill. Ign the scrutiny upon him, he poured his iy into each step and strike.

  Bakuto's gaze lingered appreciatively on the young man. "Who is that?" he asked, head tilting toward the loudent.

  "That's Tyson," Colleen replied, pride c her voice as she regarded her dedicated student. "He's a high school student who showed up looking for training." Her voice dropped to a spiratorial murmur. "I sidered him for the schorship, but he preferred to stay iy. He's been here nearly every day sihe summer, training for hours on end. He's itted. Pays five times the normal rate for lessons and usually attends for five times the normal css duration."

  Bakuto's eyebrows ticked upward as he studied Tyson. The young man's dedication and skill were evident in his motions. Colleen and Bakuto observed him in silence, Bakuto's shrewd gaze missing nothing. Tyson remained focused on his training, but his enhanced hearing picked up every word exged between them. Colleen watched him, her critical eye missing nothing. After long minutes she stepped forward, seleg a bde from the rack that matched his own. Tyson noted her approach, and broke his rhythm, awaiting her instru.

  Colleen began without preamble, "I've noticed a few areas for improvement." Tyson ined his head in acquiesce. Colleeed the ninjato, "First, yrip. It's too tight." She demonstrated, fingers flexing, finding the sword's ter of gravity. "Hold it firmly, but nidly. Imagine you're holding a bird, yrip must be secure enough that it won't escape, yet gentle enough not to harm it." Tyson adjusted his grip accly. Colleen tinued. "Your breathing is also erratic. It should flow smoothly, in sync with your movements." She inhaled deeply, and exhaled slowly, matg the rise and fall of the sword. "Proper breath trol enhances effid endurance. And even make your strikes more powerful."

  Brow furrowed, Tyson focused on synizing his breathing to the swings and sshes, though the adjustment did not e naturally. Still, his dedication was evident. He would master this in time, just as he had mastered so much else. Bakuto observed it all. His shrewd gaze remained fixed on Tyson, missing not a siail. What he saw pleased him.

  Tyson paused mid-swing as Colleen pointed out o area for improvement. "Watch the alig of your bde during strikes," she said, demonstrating a precise cut. Her bde sliced the air in a perfect line. "Your bde alig is a bit off at times. This make your strikes less effective. Foaintaining the edge alighroughout your movements, ensuring that each cut is as sharp and accurate as possible."

  Studying her ily, Tyson mirrored her motion, trating on the alig of his owhe adjustment was subtle, but Bakuto and the other seasoned warriors in the dojo immediately noticed the improvement in Tyson's teique.

  Colleen observed Tyson with satisfa, pleased at his receptiveo corre. "Good," she said approvingly. "Keep these points in mind, and you'll see signifit improvement in your swordsmanship." Respect for his skill mingled with belief in his potential shone in her voice.

  "Thank you, Colleen, sensei," Tyson replied, "I appreciate the lesson." He tinued practig in the dojo, the rhythmic whoosh of his movements the only sound breaking the quiet observation of the room. He made the subtle adjustments to his teique that Colleen had suggested, his tration absolute as he sought to improve his skill.

  Bakuto observed Tyson briefly befesturing to Colleen, leading her upstairs and out onto the fire escape of the dojo. The cool afternoon air brushed their faces as they stepped outside, the distant hum of the city providing a backdrop to their versation. "Do you think he has potential for... more?" Bakuto asked.

  Colleeated, weighing her words carefully before she spoke. "Tyson is... indepe, very focused on his own path. He's not really someone I'd sider for the Hand. His work ethic, though, is unmatched." She leaned on the railing, her eyes refleg the city lights. "He's alunctual, pays in advance, in cash. And there's a discipline in him that's hard to ignore and not only seen in this geion."

  Bakuto's i deepe her words, a subtle shift in his expressioraying his thoughts. "I want to test him," he said, his voice low but firm. "See what he's truly capable of."

  Colleen thought back to what she knew of Tyson. "He's so focused usually, but enjoys his practice." She recalled moments when she had seen him sparring pyfully with Natalie, a skilled red-headed former student. "At times I've even seen him pyful... But I don't know how he'd reader real pressure if his life was genuinely at risk."

  Bakuto's quiet reply was, "Soon we'll find out."

  They returned inside, resuming their discussion about the dojo. As they walked through the training area, their versation seamlessly shifted to the dojo's finances, Bakuto insights and suggestions to boost enrollment. However, this was merely a facade, a cover for their real iion. Tyson plete his practice.

  From the er of his eye, Bakuto he sheer effort and duration of Tyson's training. "He's been at it for a while," he remarked quietly to Colleen.

  Colleen nodded in agreement. "He work like this for hours without a break. He's not the most naturally gifted martial artist I've seen, but what Tyson cks in talent, he more than makes up for in stubbornness and enduraheir versation tinued, but both were acutely aware of Tyson's presen the studio. As the evening wore on, the iy of Tyson's training finally ceased. With a final, precise movement, he sheathed his ninjato, the bde sliding into its scabbard with a soft click. His practice for the day cluded with the same focus and dedication with which it had begun. Tyson carefully pced the sword ba its designated spot among the other ons.

  With a respectful bow to Colleen and a brief gnce around the dojo to ensure everything was tidy, Tyson made his way out into the evening.

  The streets of atown were alive with light and sound as Tyson made his way from the Chikara Dojo. Neon signs advertisiaurants and shops in a mix of English and ese flickered iric reds and greens, casting colorful shadows on the busy sidewalks. Voices called out in half a dozen dialects while scooters and bicycles wove expertly through the crowd. Tyson navigated it all with familiarity, and he should, he had walked this route many times over the st six months. His motorcycle waited where he had left it, a few blocks from the dojo in a quieter se of atown. As he approached, the sounds of the main thhfare faded, leaving only the buzz of the occasional passing car. Reag for his helmet, Tyson's thoughts drifted back to his training that evening. Colleen had introduew dynamito his kata, it had demanded intense focus. It would take more practice with the sword for him to fully implement her suggestions.

  "What are you doing here, gaijin?" The sudden rough voice cut through Tyson's refle. He turo see a man standing a few feet away, tensed in clear aggression. The man's face was hard, eyes narrowed with hostility at Tyson's presence.

  Tyso his response measured, aiming to defuse the frontation. "I've been parking here for months. I attend csses at a local dojo." His tone carried calm fidence, hinting that he could handle himself if pressed.

  But the thug was unimpressed. With a menag smirk, he slid a set of brass knuckles from his pocket onto his hand and stepped closer with clear iions.

  Tyson held up a hand in a pg gesture at the man's aggressive p. "I'm sorry if this is your property. I wasn't aware there'd be a problem. I'd be happy to pensate you for using the parking space." His voice was calm but alert, hoping to iate rather thae. "There isn’t a need for violence here. We work something out."

  The thug's only response was a sudden punch, aimed with precision that betrayed formal training. Tyshe skill behind the attack immediately. This was no ordinary brawler. Taller and with a signifit reach advayson, instead of attempting to block, stepped back, moving just beyond the reach of the brass knuckles. The thug shifted forward, ung a front kick, but Tyson was ready. He stepped ihe man's guard, making the kick go wide. With a trolled shove, Tysohe man stumbling several feet back. The thug nded with a surprised grunt, but unharmed as he scrambled to his feet. Tyson had inteo de-escate. Shoving instead of striking signaled he could have hurt the man but chose not to. He had hoped to end the frontation without further violence, but the thug was uerred.

  Raising his hands to his mouth, with a sharp whistle, the man called for reinforts. More thugs emerged from the nearby buildings, f a menag circle around Tyson. The new arrivals were an assorted bunch, armed with an array of ons. Clubs, s, brass knuckles, and even a nunchaku and even a wakizashi, a traditional Japanese short sword.

  Tyson raised his hands in a calmiure, seeking to defuse the esg tension. "You sure we 't talk about this?" he asked evenly, keeping his voice steady despite the growing threat.

  The thugs closed in, tightening the circle around him. Their faces were set in hard expressions, their violent iions clear. Though surrounded and outnumbered, Tyson stood ready, his body coiled. The apparent leader barked something rapidly in Japayson olyglot but unfortunately didn't uand the nguage. However, his sharp hearing picked up the faint scuff of a shoe on the pavement behind him. One of the thugs was trying to sneak up while he was seemingly distracted.

  Tyson listened ily, sensing the man's approach. Just as the nunchaku sliced through the air where he had been standing a moment before, Tyson sidestepped, evading the blow. The thug, having itted to a strike he thought sure to nd, was overextended. Seizing the opportunity, Tyson delivered a punch to his midse. As the man doubled over in pain, Tyson expertly disarmed him of the nunchaku. He followed up with a powerful kick that sent the wihug sprawling across the sidewalk to crash against the brick facade of a nearby building.

  Tyso arieved the fallen nunchaku. Uhe wooden training ons he was used to, these were made of steel, the bars ected by a nylon rope. He gave them an experimental swing, listening to the distinctive whistling as they sliced through the air. Even if he hadn't heard the thug's approach, that unique sound would have given him enough warning to respond to the attack.

  The remaining thugs hesitated, their fidence faltering as they watched Tyson hahe exotic on with easy skill. In petent hands, the nunchaku could strike with the force of a baseball bat but required far less effort from its wielder. The tradeoff was that it was su unusual on, that it needed practid training to use effectively in a fight, while anyone could swing a bat.

  The thugs paused, uainty flickering through them at their oppo's ued skill. Tyson took a defiant stance, readying the nunchaku for their move. "Well, e on then," he challenged, his voice steady and fident.

  The standoff broke when two thugs charged without warning, oh a and the other brandishing brass knuckles. Tysoed instantly. He whipped the nunchaku out, intercepting the and redireg its momentum to send its wielder stumbling. At the same time, he ducked beh the punch of the other, delivering an uppercut with his free hand that drove the brass-knuckled thug back.

  Ahug, armed with a club, charged at Tyson from the side. Tyson spun, bringing the nunchaku down to strike the hand wielding the club. The sharp crag sound indicated the thug's fingers were broken and could no longer maintain their hold on the club. The on dropped from suddenly limp fingers as Tyson followed through with a roundhouse kick that ected solidly with the thug's chest, sending him crashing heavily to the ground.

  The remaining thugs quickly regrouped and attacked as oyson moved like a whirlwind, his body a blur of motion as he parried, dodged, and struck with a fluidity that was almost dance-like. He wielded the nunchaku not just as a on, but as aension of his own body, maniputing it with masterful skill. The thugs could not have known, but Tyson had spent far too many hours practig with nunchaku. Migelo was his favorite ninja turtle as a child, and sessions swinging the on indulged his longing for its hypnotic fluidity and cool factor. The fact that the thugs had vely provided him with one now allowed him to test the nunchaku in live bat for the first time.

  Tyson spun the nunchaku in a zy figure-eight as he eyed the two thugs stalking him. One clutched aiunchaku while the other brandished a wakizashi, the short swlinting dully uhe streetlights. The thugs moved to fnk him, coordinated in their approach despite the differences in their ons.

  Tyson, not keen on being fnked, struck first. He lunged, eling a small amount of superhuman speed and using the extra reach afforded by the nunchaku to crack the thug on the head. The blow rue, sending him to the ground, immediately unscious. With the first thug incapacitated, Tyson turo deal with the wakizashi. The swordsman sshed and stabbed relentlessly, seeking to overwhelm Tyson's defehrough sheer ferocity. But Tyson's movements were hohrough months of disciplined practice. He deflected or dodged each attack, watg for an opening. It came on aehrust. Tyson spped the bde aside and followed through with a brutal strike to the thug's wrist. More bones snapped uhe unfiving steel of the nunchaku. The wakizashi cttered to the pavement as the man staggered back, clutg his ruined hand. Tyson pressed the advantage, shing out with a spinning kick that lifted the disarmed thug clear off his feet. The man hit the ground in a tangle of limbs, his head crag against the crete with an ugly thud.

  The remaining thug hesitated after Tyson's easy dismantling of his panions. But he didn't relent, diving forward with a knife gleaming in his hand. Tyson flowed ihe clumsy stab and seized the man's arm, holding it immobile. Tyson's fists smmed into the thug's ribs, three punishing blows dropping the man to the ground.

  Tyson surveyed the fallen thugs dispassionately. Though he was victorious, he mentally cataloged all the errors in his form, reminding himself of the weaknesses in his teique that he o address. There was always room for improvement. He collected the matg nunchaku and the wakizashi, trophies of a hard-won battle… Finally, some loot, he thought to himself with a satisfied smile.

  — Rogue Rept —

  From their vantage point high above the street, Colleen Wing and Bakuto, along with his ente watched the se unfold below. They observed as Tyson dispatched the first thug ahodically took apart the group surrounding him.

  "Remember the st initiate who took down ten armed attackers?" Bakuto asked, his gaze fixed on Tyson.

  Colleen's response held a hint of pride. "Should I not? It was me." But her expression turhoughtful. "It wasn't nearly this easy when I did it. He's barely been touched."

  Bakuto nodded. "You've been watg him for months. What's his weakness?"

  Colleeated, relut to see Tyson e to harm yet curious about his potential. "There was another skilled student he regurly practiced with. She stopped ing about a month ago. She challenged him, but I could tell he held back. He was clearly captivated by her beauty."

  "A weakness for a pretty girl, eh?" Bakuto chuckled. "We use that."

  He gestured to one of his group. The woman swiftly left the room, heading for the street...and Tyson.

  Tyson had just finished colleg his loot from the defeated thugs when a new figure approached him oreet below. She spoke in Japanese, a again Tyson was faced with a nguage that he didn't uand. With a roll of his eyes, Tyso down and touched one of the defeated thugs for just a sed, abs enough of the man's knowledge to uand the woman's words. He straightened up and addressed her in fluent Japanese, "My apologies, could you repeat that?"

  The woman shed her heavy cloak, revealiriking appearance. She looked to be about seventeen years old, simir to Tyson's age, but with vivid features that made her stand out. Her heritage was distinctly Asian, and her short, vibrant pink hair just barely reached her shoulders. She wore a fitted white shirt, unadorned except for a promi red circle positioned between her breasts in an unmistakable nod to the Japanese fg. The shirt was tucked into a sharply pointed, pleated bck skirt that swayed slightly as she moved. The skirt was ched at the waist with a heavy bck belt, holding it securely above her hips in a blend of traditional and modern fir. Her legs were bold, bck, and purple striped thigh-high socks, adding a rebellious touch to the ensemble. The socks disappeared into padded samurai boots, a modern take on traditional footwear. Most strikingly, she we white headphones, ingruous with her otherwise bat-ready appearahe headphones, bined with the katana she now uhed, lent her an aura more remi of an anime character than a serious threat. Yet the ease with which she hahe sword and her fident stance suggested that uimating her would be a mistake.

  The young woman strode towards Tyson with a fident gait, "I am the Cherry Blossom," she announced, her eyes fixed on him with a pierg gaze. Though her voice held a tinge of disdaiand the ease with which she hahe katana spoke of petency. Tyson remained wary but calm, keeping his focus on the self-procimed Cherry Blossom. He didn't speak, tent to let her say her peace. The girl's gowards the incapacitated thugs was dismissive. "These men, they are under my prote. You've made a grave mistake, gaijin."

  Tyson weighed his words carefully. "I didn't start this. They attacked me. I defended myself."

  Cherry Blossom's lip curled slightly. "Words of a trespasser," she retorted sharply. Her grip shifted oana, moonlight glinting off the honed edge of the bde. "Now, you will pay for what you've done." Sensing immi frontation, Tyson positioned himself defensively as she anded, "Prepare yourself." Though he preferred to avoid further violehe woman's demeanor indicated she would not be deterred.

  As Cherry Blossom assumed an expert bat stayson uhed the wakizashi in a smooth motion. Tossing the sheath aside, he kept the short bde low and ready. "I'm not looking for more trouble," he stated, hoping to stall her attack. "But I will defend myself if I have to."

  Cherry Blossom let out a small, mog ugh. "Defend? Against me?" Her tone dripped arrogance as she approached Tyson, the razor-sharp katana held out steadily before her. "You will find that a more challenging task than dealing with my 'petals'."

  Tyson stood fag Cherry Blossom, assessing the situation. Her fident movements indicated expertise with the katana. In trast, he held a wakizashi, siderably shorter than her longer bde. This presented a signifit reach disadvahat he was acutely aware of. Typically, this would give Cherry Blossom an edge. However, Tyson had advantages. Unless Cherry Blossom was enhanced, he likely had superior speed. His mutant abilities provided agility and reflexes that would easily offset the reach difference. Moreover, his physical prowess was formidable. His strength and endurance could overe any gaps in skill. If he closed the distaneutralized her reach, and leveraged his speed and strength, he could gain the upper hand.

  However, Tyson didn't want to simply overwhelm the girl. Like with the thugs, her 'petals', this portunity to test himself and how far he'd e with his training. With this in mind, Tyson prepared to engage, shifting his grip on the wakizashi and wielding it in his off-hand. He reached out and grabbed the nearby nunchaku with his right. Dual wielding rarely worked well, especially with such different ons, but it would be easier to discard oher than try to retrieve it mid-battle. Weeks earlier, practig with Natasha, he had wielded a sword in his off-hand as a joke. But doing so had allowed him to see the bes of partial ambidexterity. He had actively worked sihen to make his weaker hand profit.

  Cherry Blossom stood poised, katana ready, as Tyson faced her while dual wielding the wakizashi and steel nunchaku.

  Tyson tensed as Cherry Blossom exploded into motion, her katana hissing through the air in a testing arc aimed at his defenses. He responded by bringing up the wakizashi to parry. Steel rang against steel at their first tact. His right hahe nunchaku at the ready, waiting for an opening. They broke apart, reassessing. Cherry Blossom's dark eyes were sharp and analytical as she took in Tyson's respoysourned her gaze steadily, gauging the speed and skill his oppo possessed. Making the move, he feinted with the wakizashi and followed with a swift swing of the nunchaku. Cherry Blossom slid backward, evading the blow. She replied with a series of quick, precise sshes, each strike seeking to force Tyson onto the defensive a his agility. Tyson ducked and wove, the wakizashi and nunchaku moving in smooth cert as he turned aside her attacks. Cherry Blossom exhibited mate mastery, every cut and parry executed with lethal elegance. She probed at Tyson with a succession of increasingly eborate binations, i on finding a fw in his defense.

  The exge became a high-speed csh where Tyson's adaptability and athleticism met Cherry Blossom's skill and precision in a whirling storm of attacks and terattacks.

  Tyson and Cherry Blossom broke apart once more, cirg each other warily. It was clear from the set of Cherry Blossom's shoulders and the calg look in Tyson's eyes that her had gaihe upper hand in the fight. They were still probing, testing each other's capabilities. In the brief respite, Tyson reassessed his strategy. Holding the nunchaku in one hand and the wakizashi iher wasn't giving him any advantage against Cherry Blossom's superior skill. He wound back his arm and threw the nunchaku at Cherry Blossom, shifting the wakizashi to his dominant hand to allow freater trol and precision.

  Cherry Blossom watched Tyson's as closely, her dark eyes sharp. It was evident to Tyson that she was a highly disciplined and dangerous oppo. His throwing the nunchaku didn't phase her in the slightest as she easily sidestepped the projectile. Clearly, he was only ensuring she didn't capitalize on his momentarily open defenses as he shifted his wakizashi into his primary hand.

  They moved toward each ain, even faster this time, with increased ferocity. Cherry Blossom's strikes were more deliberate now, each ssh and thrust of her katana aimed to maim or kill. Tyso her attacks with a blend of defensive parries and evasive maneuvers, narrowly avoiding the razor-sharp bde again and again.

  The fight took on a rapid rhythm of its own, a blurring exge of offense and defeweewo skilled batants. With only one on to focus on wielding, Tyson's use of the wakizashi was more effective, his parries sharper and terattacks quicker. He found a way to flow with Cherry Blossom's attacks, looking for any opportunity to strike back. While Cherry Blossom seemed to relish the challeysoed. Her attacks became a series of plex binations desigo overwhelm and outmaneuver. Her katana fshed silver as it moved with lethal speed and elegance, f Tyson to narrowly avoid being cut down time and again.

  Tyson's breaths came in trolled bursts as he tried to el the instrus given by Colleen earlier into his teiques. His focus was entirely on the bde before him, his breathing, and the angle of his own sword's edge. Their movements were a blur, Tyson's defeyle against Cherry Blossom's aggressive flurry.

  As they momentarily disengaged from their intense sword fight yet again, Tyson keenly observed Cherry Blossom. Despite her trolled, eical movements, she was breathing heavily, the physical toll of the high-iy battle being evident. Tyson hadn't wao utilize his enhanced speed and strength to simply overwhelm the girl, instead desiring to test his skills. But as he watched his oppo, he realized his path to victory could be his endurance. While she might have been the more skilled swordsman, she was already tiring, while he could fight like this all day.

  Seizing the opportunity, Tyson raised the iy and frequency of his strikes, switg from defeo being on the offensive. His wakizashi became a blur, attag from multiple angles, each strike desigo force Cherry Blossom to stantly shift her guard and expend more energy. She met his barrage with remarkable skill, her katana moving in swift, precise arcs.

  Cherry Blossom anticipated Tyson's barrage to be a short-lived tactic, expeg him to tire as she had seen many oppos do in the past. A st desperate fring of the dle's fme before it went out. However, Tyson's stamina was far beyond that of any ordinary human. His relentless assault did not waver; if anything, it intensified with each passing moment.

  Tyson's strategy was clear, keep Cherry Blossom on the defensive, and force her to use her katana in ways that would drain her energy faster. He was relentless, his attacks a tinuous flow of motion, leaving no room for her to unch a terattack. His tinuous barrage kept her katana occupied parrying and blog. flickered in her eyes as realization dawned. Her breath grew bored and her movements, though still precise, cked their initial sharpness.

  As the battle raged, Cherry Blossom's tenacity waned against the releide of Tyson's blows. In desperation, she gambled on a risky maneuver, log bdes with him to halt his assault. But the move proved to be her undoing.

  Their katanas crashed together and Tyson seized the moment, shoving forward. For all her skill, Cherry Blossom was a normal-sized teenage girl. Even without using his superhuman strength, the force hurled her backward, shattering her guard.

  Tyson pressed his advahlessly. Before Cherry Blossom could recover, he closed the gap between them, driving his fist into her stomach. She doubled over with a gasp as her breath exploded from her lungs. Capitalizing on her vulnerability, Tyson followed with a crushing cross to her face. The decisive blow knocked Cherry Blossom unscious instantly. She colpsed, her katana cttering to the ground beside her limp form.

  Silence fell oreet as the tension of bat evaporated. Tyson stood over his fallen foe, victorious but slightly disappointed. It had not been his skill that won the day, but abusing his remarkable endurance. However, his disappoi was short-lived as he looked down on the defeated Cherry Blossom, and her on. The prospect of having scored more loot overrode his sense of failure.

  — Rogue Rept —

  High above, Bakuto watched the clusion of the duel with keen i. He'd seen the shift in momentum as Tysohered Cherry Blossom's attacks before unleashing his own overwhelming offensive. Bakuto knew how this would end long before the final blow nded. With an almost bored nonce, he snapped his fihree times. One of the other women in his coterie silently withdrew from the room to carry out his unspoken and.

  Beside Bakuto, Colleen watched the se unfold below with growing dread. prehension dawned, and her eyes went wide when she realized whian he'd sent after Tyson. Colleen turo Bakuto, distress evident on her face, "Not her, please," she implored, though she already suspected it was futile. "She'll kill him."

  Bakuto didn't bother looking at her, his gaze still fixed on the fight. "Perhaps," he said, his voieutral. "Or perhaps not."

  Colleeled with indecision, torween her loyalty to the man who had given her so much, and her duty to protect her student down below. Should she speak out, try to prevent the threat Bakuto had just unleashed? Or trust in Tyson's training, and have faith he could overe whatever came ? In the end, her uainty kept her silent.

  Below, Tyson stood over the unscious form of Cherry Blossom, watg the slow rise and fall of her chest to ensure she still drew breath. Satisfied that she would live, he turned his attention to reg his ons. He gathered up the pair of nunchaku, including the ohrown earlier during their fight, then slid the wakizashi into its sheath before seg them and the girl's katana to his motorcycle.

  He had just swung a leg over the bike, mounting up, ready to head out, when the distinctive hiss of a thrown bde split the air. Tyson twisted aside, but the dagger still found its mark, slig into the thick muscle of his hamstring. Paihrough the leg as he stumbled, barely catg himself. He was forced off the motorcycle, croug behind it for cover. The wound would be a crippling one for most men, but Tyson was far from normal. He wrehe dagger from his leg with a grimace, grinding his teeth against the pain. Blood flowed freely from the wound, but only for a moment before it closed.

  Leanly muscur and eck to toe in a skintight white outfit that was decorated with circur bck lihe woman cut an intimidating figure. Her face was obscured by a small bck mask, and a bullseye emblem adorned her forehead. Tyson's meta-knowledge screamed a warning at the sight. He reized the symbol at ohough he would have expected to see it on a man's head, not a woman's. Her sleek jet-bck hair ulled tightly back, and in one hand, she held a dagger identical to the one just embedded in Tyson's leg, gripped with casual readiness. She might have been striking, if she wasn't trying to kill him.

  But then, Tyson corrected his mental assessment, he had to admit, regardless of her lethal i, she was still attractive.

  Tyson looked up at her and asked through gritted teeth, "Who the hell are you supposed to be?"

  The woman tilted her head slightly, her gaze never leaving Tyson's. "I'm the one who ends your little rampage," she replied, her voice cold and fident. "You've caused quite a stir, and Lady Bullseye is here to put ao it."

  "Lady Bullseye… Wait what rampage?" Tyson echoed in fusion, "I was just trying to go home."

  Lady Bullseye's response was calg and frigid. "I'm not sure the police will see it the same way. An outsider es to atown armed to the teeth." She gestured at his motorcycle, den with the collected ons. Her gaze swept over the unscious thugs scattered around. "He assaults a group of locals," she tinued, her voice dripping with accusation. "Until he takes his own life with one of his bdes." She held up the dagger in her hand, its sinister glint mirr the sharp edge, her words unveiling her deadly i.

  In respoyson's expression shifted to one of fear and desperation. "No, please... I'm too young to die," he pleaded.

  Lady Bullseye ughed, a hollow sound devoid of warmth. "Too young? Ha! Too pathetic is more like," she sneered, disdain evident ione.

  She hurled the dagger, aiming directly at Tyson's heart.

  Tyson's pleading expression vanished as the dagger spun through the air toward him, repced in an instant by a sharp, ing smile. With a dispy of superhumaerity, he snatched the bde from the air, catg it a mere foot from his chest.

  The desperation he had feigned just moments before was gone, repced by a feral grin as he looked directly at Lady Bullseye, her own thrown dagger now clutched in his hand.

  "I hope you have more of these daggers," he taunted, fidend challenge clear in his voice.

  Gripping the pilfered dagger in a reverse hold with his left hand to match the one he'd ripped from his owyson turo face Lady Bullseye, once again dual-wielding and ready for her move.

  She observed his sudden shift in demeanor, head tilting slightly in amusement as her lips formed a puckered smile. "Very cute," she remarked. "Let's see you try to catch this." In a swift motion, she produced a pistol from behind her back, the on seeming to appear from nowhere.

  Tyson's mind raced as Lady Bullseye produced the pistol from behind her back. Surprise jolted through him first. He wo where had she been hiding that gun in such a tight outfit. But the surprise faded quickly, repced by pragmatism. He really shouldn't have bantered with her. It was time to stop pying around.

  Without hesitation, Tyson hurled the dagger in his right hand toward Lady Bullseye. His aim oor; he had little skill for throwing ons. But the dagger was never meant to harm her. It was merely a distra. As anticipated, Lady Bullseye didn't sight the on on Tyson, abandoning her shot to dodge the ining bde.

  Tyson seized the moment, diving toward the of the dowhugs. He plunged a hand into the man's jacket pocket, fishing urgently for anything that might aid his escape. His fingers closed on a small metal der. He reized it immediately and pulled it from the thug's pocket.

  Lady Bullseye had already recovered her posure. The pistol was rising to track Tyson once more.

  Tyson pitched the metal der to the grouween himself and his attacker. There was a metallic k as it struck the crete. Then, with a soft whump, a mist erupted from the der, rapidly enveloping the area in a cealing fog.

  The mist billowed out, obsg Tyson's movements and giving him a tactical advantage. Lady Bullseye's aim was promised as the disorienting haze obscured her line of sight. Tyson became little more than a ghostly silhouette, moving through the cealing fog.

  Tysoly employed his illusion abilities. To any onlooker, including Lady Bullseye herself, it appeared as though he had thrown the dagger and procured a smoke bomb from the dowhug. However, the reality was much different. Uhe veil of his illusion, Tyson remained calm and collected as he walked in Lady Bullseye's dire. He maintaihe illusion, making it seem as though he was still shrouded in the mist.

  Tyson started his motorcycle. The distinct sound signaled his location. Lady Bullseye aimed her pistol toward the sound, and in the dire where she remembered the motorcycle being. However, she found herself forced to dodge a barrage of ons thrown from within the obsg mist. s, clubs, and even a discarded nunchaku flew at her, each throw carefully timed to interrupt her aim, giving Tyson time to mount his motorcycle.

  As Tyson peeled off, riding away from the se, the engine roared as he accelerated away. Lady Bullseye struggled to get a clear shot. She had not pulled the trigger a siime as Tyson turhe er, removing any ce of her hitting him. The sound of his motorcycle faded into the distance, leaving Lady Bullseye to return to Bakuto.

  Relief washed through Colleen as she watched Tyson peel away on his motorcycle, disappearing into the night. He had survived the ambush, showg not just his fighting prowess but his intelligend adaptability as well. Lady Bullseye reehe room, her sileurn an aowledgment of her failure to elimihe target.

  Bakuto turo Colleen, curiosity and expectation in his voice. "What did you notice?"

  Collee her eyes on the y street below as she answered thoughtfully, "He analyzed his oppo and used his superior physical abilities to overe their gap in teique. He utilized his surroundings and the avaible resources to his advantage."

  Bakuto nodded. "Further, he executed a diving roll areat despite his injury, fog through the pain to throw with reasonable accuracy while formuting an escape. He survived two of our fi, even after passing his test and hours of difficult training."

  "Keep a close eye on him." He instructed. Then Bakuto addressed the room, his voice carrying an uone of significe. "I'll notify the other Fingers of The Hand. We may have found a Bck Sky didate."

  — Rogue Rept —

  Tyson stood in the er of the room, the group who had been watg him. He listened as the man, Bakuto, described Tyson as a Bck Sky didate. Tyson vaguely remembered the title from his meta-knowledge but had no idea what it meant. Ohing Tyson had recalled was the man, Bakuto. He was a high-ranking member of the Hand. His memories of the Iron Fist television show were hazy, but he believed the guy might be immortal, eless from snuffing dragon bones… or something. Iron Fist wasn't good enough for Tyson to have paid close attention.

  The remaining members of the Hand listened with rapt attention as Bakuto described his years-long search for a new Bck Sky, and how Tyson now seemed a perfect didate. After some muttered discussion, the group dispersed to attend to various tasks. Colleeuro Chikara Dojo while the other women apanied Bakuto to retrieve Cherry Blossom.

  Lady Bullseye was the exception. She pulled on her heavy coat again, disguising her features, and headed north, peeling off her domino mask and wiping away the bullseye makeup as she went. Desding into the East Broadway subway station near Seaark, she was unaware of Tyson following her uhe veil of his illusions.

  Tyson sat in the subway car, keeping a watchful eye on Lady Bullseye. She sat hunched, scowling at the floor, seemingly more upset than angry about her failure. He sidered his options. He could end her now, removing one of the Hand assassins from the world. But he would not act rashly. Better to learn what he could from her first.

  The train slowed, and Lady Bullseye rose heading for the doors. Tyson followed, his illusions cloaking him from view. They emerged into a Monday night g the usual bustle, though small groups ughed and chattered on the sidewalks. Vendors hawked their wares, peting with the muffled thump of hip-hop leaking from open doorways. Graffiti sprawled across aging brick, spshes of vivid color.

  A homeless man ranted on the er, his voice carrying clearly. "There's more than the Lizard crawling about under our streets. I've seen other monsters down there!"

  Lady Bullseye paid him no mind, her boots clig against the pavement as she stalked away. Tyson followed, keeping to the shadows, his senses alert for any potential ambush.

  Oblivious, Lady Bullseye strode onward.

  She made for a less-gentrified building, the sign beling it, Mard Pharmaceuticals. The name nagged faintly at Tyson's memory but he could not pce it. Lady Bullseye went inside, and Tyson followed.

  She was admitted past security and Tyson moved in her shadow, still using his illusions to avoid any scrutiny. He wracked his brain trying to remember why the name Mard Pharmaceuticals was so familiar. He couldn't remember it from any of his meta-knowledge. Was it something from his time here, had he seen an advertisement or ercial and was mistaking it for something signifit?

  Lady Bullseye made her way to the top floor, unaware Tyson was only feet away, within the same elevator car. She entered aive office. Tysohe name on the door…

  Edgar Lasbe.

  Tyson's brow furrowed as he slipped through the door behind Lady Bullseye, the name on the office pque nagging at him. It joihe litany of half-remembered details crowding his thoughts, whispers from the past that should have meant something if he could only grasp their significe.

  His feet carried him forward on instinct, gliding across the plush carpet as his eyes roved the opulent surroundings. The furniture, the leather chairs, all screamed money and power. The kind of pce where decisions got made, and fortunes rose and fell on the whims of the elite.

  Lady Bullseye strode toward the broad desk without a sideways gnce, seemingly oblivious to her silent shadow. Tyson hung back, merging with the dimness of a er, his mind still wrestling with those persistent names. Mard Pharmaceuticals. Edgar Lasbe. They twisted through his thoughts like smoke, maddeningly familiar yet ever-elusive. Pieces of a puzzle scattered by time, he could only hope their importance would bee clear.

  A man, Tyson assumed was Lasbe, greeted her desdingly, "Ah you're back. Done pying ninja?"

  She replied tersely, "I don't py." Her severe expression softened as she neared Lasbe. Lady Bullseye leaned in, and Tyson heard her whisper, "Hail, Hydra."

  Tyson slowly pieced together the puzzle id before him as Lady Bullseye and Lasbe spoke. The mention of Hydra by Lady Bullseye sent a chill down his spihen it struck him.

  Edgar Lasbe.

  CEO of a pharmaceutical pany.

  This man had beeioned months ago…

  By dy Moon's mother uyson's interrogation.

  Tyson's search for dy had stalled after speaking with her mom. That piece of information had seemed minor at the time, but now, as he stood listening to Lady Bullseye, it was the missing link he had been searg for. Lasbe wasn't just a high-profile CEO, but a Hydra operative, tied to the sinister web surrounding the fate of dy Moon.

  As Tyson stood in the shadows, his thoughts drifted back to that day at Oscorp. The day of the spider bite. He hadn't known dy, not really. He had only spoken with her that oime. If he hadn't seen her bitten by the same spider that gave Peter his powers, Tyson likely would have never noticed the girl.

  The realization that Hydra was involved deepehe mystery surrounding dy's disappearance. If Hydra had dy he o do something about it.

  Tyson knew he needed a pn, and his mastery of illusion would provide the perfect springboard.

  cealed in the shadows of the dimly lit office, Tyson watched silently as Lady Bullseye took her leave, her footsteps eg down the hallway until the door clicked shut behind her. Edgar Lasbe was now alone, seated at his desk, oblivious to the predator lurking unseen in his midst.

  Tyson's uanding of the dynamics at py here grew during the versatioween the CEO and the assassin. Lasbe was clearly the architect, the mastermind wielding power through ing and influeher than brute force. Lady Bullseye seemed to be the muscle, either a lower-ranking Hydra member or a hired merary. Realizing that Lasbe held authority over Lady Bullseye, Tyson had remained in the office while allowio depart.

  Studying Lasbe ily, Tyson sidered his approach. A direct frontation would be foolish. Killing one man who was a Hydra operative, even if he was one of the leaders, wouldn't solve anything. It wouldn't bring Tyson any closer to finding dy Moon, and he could end up revealing himself prematurely wheh and subterfuge were his greatest assets. Instead, he would o exploit what Lasbe and Hydra prided themselves on; information and influeyson would craft an intricate illusion, a sario desigo manipute the maniputor, drawing Lasbe out and leading him to divulge more about dy's whereabouts or Hydra's pns. Tyson's pave him the unique ability to weave ving worlds, turning Lasbe's reality into a stage uyson's dire.

  As Lasbe resumed his paperwork, unaware of the hidden threat, Tyson soundlessly approached the desk and took the chair retly occupied by Lady Bullseye. When Lasbe gnced up, all he saw were two eyes fixed upon him. One blue, one green. Mesmerized by their pull, Lasbe's will was worn away, falling before the mercy of the illusionist.

  Edgar Lasbe found himself standing before the shadowy visages of the HYDRA cil, their faces obscured to anonymity behind dark silhouettes. Though only the vaguest impressions of gender and hairstyle could be gleaheir authority rang clear.

  "How are things in New York?" one of the faceless heads ihe voice distorted beynition.

  With practiced posure, Lasbe unched into an update on HYDRA operations withiy. "The Green Goblin's impriso has opened avenues previously beyond our reach," he expined, hands csped behind his back. "However, with the Stark Expo ing in three months, many eyes have been drawn to the city, the most bothersome being Tony Stark himself. His meddling has proven exceptionally disruptive thus far." Murmurs of agreement echoed from the shadowy figures, their obscured heads nodding in unison. "Oscorp teeters in the wake of Osborn's reveal, aeng," Lasbe tinued. "Public trust has been shaken. We must stoke these embers of doubt, drawing the disillusioo our cause. The time is ripe to recruit among Oscorp's disented employees."

  "And what of the new pyers?" one cil member interjected, their distorted voice betraying no identifiable traits. "The illusionist, Mirage, and other emerging threats?"

  Lasbe's expression remained impassive. "Mirage poses an unknown danger. His abilities suggest that he could be a potential asset or a formidable adversary. We monitor his movements, but his powers make him difficult to pin down."

  "We've received intelligehat Mirage will be setting up a perma location somewhere in Manhattan soon," said one of the shadowed figures in their distorted voice, "We reend you double down, try to recruit him, but pce assets in his retinue in case recruitment fails and he o be eliminated."

  Lasbe nodded slowly, sidering the sel. "A prudent suggestion," he aowledged.

  His analytical mind was already sifting through his vast work of operatives to select the perfect didate for this delicate mission.

  An image came to him then, of the lithe, dark-haired woman who had left his office just a few minutes earlier.

  Yes, she would serve perfectly, he mused, the ghost of a smile pying at his thin lips. She could woe into the Hydra fold with her charms, while also closely watg the illusionist should he prove resistant… or a threat. Recruitment was alreferable, bringialents into Hydra's embrace, but should Mirage not see the light, he would o be ralized. And she was a master assassin, her skills honed by the Hand. She might actually be able to take down the illusionist before he could bring his powers to bear.

  "I have just the asset in mind," Lasbe affirmed to the gathering, satisfied that he had found the solution to dealing with the wildcard that was Mirage.

  A vaguely female figure spoke, "And what of the other? The Spider-Man?" Though her words held a hint of curiosity, her tone remai.

  Lasbe shifted as he answered, "Spider-Man focuses oy crimes like drug rings and robberies, but nothing beyond the level of human traffig. The i at Oscorp was an anomaly driven by the Green Goblin, not due to any i or vea against the corporation itself." He paused, steepling his fingers. "His is are mundane. In terms of threat level, he's negligible. As for recruitment..." Lasbe shook his head. "Highly unlikely. His moral pass does not align with our objectives."

  The ressed on. "And the girl? Remind me of her story."

  A frown flickered across Lasbe's face. He'd thought that matter resolved. "An associate brought her to me thinking that I could cure her. She presented as a prime opportunity for studying enhanced individuals. Her powers seemingly stemmed from an uified illness and mimicked Spider-Man's almost exactly." Lasbe sighed. " She could have aided our research, but it was deemed too risky to leave her in the same city as Spider-Man. Others on this cil feared there might be some liweehat he could capitalize on, exposing us. She was relocated to a facility, though I'm unaware of her status. Either aern Europe or Asia cell. Her blood samples remain secured in my office. Aails on her current status would fall to whichever cell now oversees her."

  Silengulfed the room as the cil members absorbed this information. No further questions came regarding the girl. With the meeting at its end, the shadowy figures receded into the darkness.

  Lasbe sat alone pting the discussions that had just taken pce regarding the girl, dy Moon. Unease g him as he recalled the cil's pointed inquiries about her.

  He rose from his seat, a growing disquiet prodding him to take a. With brisk steps, Lasbe made his way to the secure vault secreted within his private office.

  At the vault door, Lasbe keyed in the code to disehe lock. The heavy metallic door swung open with a soft hiss, granting him access to the secrets secured within. Lasbe's eyes quickly found the refrigerated ste unit harb dy Moon's precious blood samples.

  Lasbe released a small sigh of relief at the sight of the ste unit, undisturbed and intact. The potential knowledge locked away in dy's blood, the possibility it held could be the key to unlog new uandings of geic mutations or abilities. It was beyond valuable to Hydra. To uand and trol such assets was everything.

  Reassured of the samples' security, Lasbe closed the vault door firmly. The log meism re-engaged with a definitive click, sealing away the secrets once more.

  With the vault again secured, Lasbe turned on his heel, mind already returning to his work.

  Tyson slipped out of Lasbe's office, the tainer of dy Moon's blood clutched securely in his hands. A storm of emotions roiled within as the realization that dy was under Hydra's trol settled. That brief window after her transformative spider bite, when his intervention could have spared the girl her fate, hauyson. If only he had known. Though it was fruitless to dwell on past mistakes, the bitter sting ret needled him. He could only move forward, aware that each choice he made carried sequences.

  In putting himself, or rather Mirage, on Hydra's radar, Tyson had taken a calcuted risk. Yet he believed the old adage held true. Better the devil you know than the devil you don't. Tyson viewed his illusionary maniputions as a gambit, a way to trol the narrative on his terms. Lasbe was more than just an oppoo be thwarted; Tyson saw the potential to manipute the man into an asset.

  So when Hydra's tendrils reached for Mirage, Tyson would appear receptive, weling their goals and promises. He uood the dangers of engaging such a ruthless, far-reag entity as Hydra. But opportunity dwelled alongside the risk.

  And in stealing dy's blood, Tyson cimed a prize, while depriving Hydra of their asset. A satisfying first strike against the looming foe. Now he just o clear their security footage a back to his motorcycle to recim the rest of his loot.

  AN: Way back when I first released Chapter 26 (Arc 2 - Ch. 14: End of Alkali Lake) on FanFi I posed a question for reviewers about which Md Marvel flix characters would appear in Arc 3. Review HeartlessNobody13 guessed right. As a reward, he was able to choose a character or plot to introduce. He gave me several options and I chose ‘iing with the hand’. So thanks to him, this chapter exists, it was added in after Arc 3 was pletely written, but gave me an opportunity to explore some other things and meshed with the Arc rather well. I treated this chapter like a ission, but not an omake or what if?.

  Appreciate the feedbad unity iion. Thanks!

  Behind the ses

  - Skipped the ‘life fsh’ for the nameless Hand thug. Because who cares?

  - In Chapter 39, Tyson interrogated dy Moon’s mom. Under pulsion of Tyson’s illusions she admits her husband brought dy to his friend, a Pharma CEO. Lasbe is a ic character that some of you might have caught at the time or looked up, and realized the Hydra e early.

  - The fight with Cherry Blossom serves to showcase Tyson’s current skill level. Cherry Blossom isn’t the best example of a peak human, but I’d sider her roughly at the bottom of the tier with characters like Colleen, Natasha, etc.

  - There were two subtle easter eggs in this chapter, one of which will be explored during Arc 7. Drop a review or ent if you think you caught them.