A Gentleman's Meeting

Dear reader,

''I am sorry to stop you here, but as a coin has two sides, so does this tale. Therefore, I must elaborate on the other half of this story. You see, every sword needs a shield, and the Dark Lord has a mighty shield (of course this is simply a metaphor). I am speaking of Sir Jasper Stonewall.''

''The best way I know to describe him is like this: If the Demon King is the icy death that stills your breath and destroys your body, Jasper is the fiery inferno of a hell your soul will have to endure. We know that he was a part of at one point or another. It is known that he committed some atrocious crime, but what exactly that was was is better left unsaid. He spent his later years working for a mob of sorts, making chemical drugs for the black market.''

This is where we may start.

The large, reflective monitors gave a soft green glow, revealing a well dressed man. He wore polished shoes, pressed slacks, a clean overcoat, and perfect a tie, all matching perfectly. A thick blonde beard graced his face, in contrast to his slick head (which held a slight shine). In his hands he held a cup and saucer. He watched the monitors each as he sipped the dark brew, revealing a dark rainy night. He watched the guards patrol the border of the compound and everything seemed quiet for the night. All of the turrets were online and all guards had been accounted for. The stone masons had made a strong fort and he was not worried, as getting in was near impossible. With a smile, the man turned and placed his hand on the door knob. Behind him, one of the monitors flickered and then shifted to a blurry fuzz. Freezing, he glanced back and watched as one-by-one they all went blank. Slowly, he reached over and grabbed a communicator.

His deep voice echoed in the small room. "Come in patrol one..."

After several quiet seconds he set the communicator back down. Glancing up he saw that the only camera left was pointed at the safe door. Quickly, he left the room, leaving behind a crumpled remaining of a door knob.

Slow but deliberate foot steps echoed off the stone walls whilst the low-hanging lights revealed the neglect and moss present. In the shadows his blue eyes gleamed noticeably, like a beacon in the night. He soon came to a large room filled with onyx-black pillars that were imprinted with gold and silver. The floor is in giant swirls that a man could likely lose himself in if he dared to stair to long. At the end of the room was a gargantuan vault door, standing at approximately forty men wide and fifty men tall. The behemoth door was a work of art, consisting of characters in place on each of the locking bars with inlaid pearls and platinum plating (with accents of gold) that covered up the rest of the door. This is where the man must have went. When he finally arrived, he placed his palm upon one of the characters and stood. A long breath escaped him when he confirmed that everything was safe. He then turned, waiting with cup and saucer in hand.

It wasn't long before the man heard some one running down one of the halls. Soon another man emerged from the shadows. The second individual was dressed in a gray trench coat. His black hair and thick side burns were visibly in a mess. Water dripped off his lips as he looked around. Suddenly, he saw the man standing by the vault.

He immediately cried out. "Jasper! Jasper! Save me." Running all the way to him, he fell at his feet. Jasper looked down at the sobbing man. After a few seconds, the stumbling fellow composed himself enough to speak. "They're all dead. Sir they are all dead, every last one. The hooded man he came for his prize. He kept repeating that over and over. I saw him cut down my brother and just like that the body just rotted away...Everyone the same and all that's left is blood. Blood everywhere." Jasper stooped down, held the man's head in his hand and finally spoke in a soothing voice. "Don't worry, it will all be over soon. But tell me, If everyone is dead, how are you alive?"

The trembling man became frozen, causing him to begin further stumbling over his words. "I-I ran sir."

He was now frantic. "He took my sword, what was I supposed to do?! He killed everyone! There was no way I could have defeated him."

Jasper interrupted him with a booming voice. "So, you left your comrades and ran? You let them die." His eyes were as blue flames. "And you dare show your face to me? You took a oath to your fellow man."

By this time, Jasper had lifted the man buy his throat with a scarred hand. Rage had filled Jasper's voice as he continued as the man's eyes began bulging. "This is unacceptable. You have betrayed everything we stand for."

As those last words faded he slammed the man on the stone floor, his body a bloody rag doll. Jasper then straightened his clothes, picked a stray black hair off his cuff, and went to take a sip from his cup (which had somehow repaired in his hand). Just then, he was interrupted buy a clap. Glancing up, he noticed that there stood a hooded figure that was giving a slow applause.

Not taking his eyes of the hooded man, Jasper continued to drink from his cup. But strangely, it had gone ice cold. Licking his numb lips, he sat the cup down on its saucer and began. "I assume you are the one who that idiot was talking about?"

The figure said nothing.

Jasper stroked his beard. "Then why are you here?"

This got him to speak. Tilting his head so that the light revealed a pale chin and mouth that looked like it had just been dining one a very rare peace of meat, he responded in a stern but menacing voice. "I am here for my prize."

Until that very moment, the hooded man had no spirit pressure. Nothing at all, as if he didn't even exist. But as he spoke it hit Jasper, causing him to stagger. What was this? It was as if a million bodies were trying to climb over him at once. He could feel it rather disturbingly as tiny hands were grabbing all over...It was overwhelming!

Finally he straightened himself. "I assume there is no way to avoid this?" He then removed his jacket and rolled up his crisp sleeves to the elbow. Then, reaching into his breast pocket, he removed a simple straight razor. Jasper looked back at the hooded man. "Before we begin, may I have your name?"

From everywhere and nowhere the name came to him as if it was in his very soul. ECHO!!! This put everything into perspective for Jasper. Reaching over to his razor, he muttered its release. After a flash, the knife, which had been locked, now opened. As if he had turned on a faucet, his spirit pressure now began to flow. Jasper let it fill the room, allowing it to strangely become so thick one could choke on it.

"Alright Echo. Come and claim your prize."

Echo immediately became blurry, as if he were a ghost. And then he was gone without a trace. Shutting his eyes, Jasper felt for Echo, but it was impossible. Echo was everywhere at once...moving...shifting. Was it possible? Could a man move that fast? Jasper's spirit pressure confirmed his thoughts. Just as he came to this conclusion, Echo struck.

Moving just in time, Jasper blocked the blow. Unfortunately, the after shock was deafening. After the first strike they only came faster and faster. Keeping pace, they danced in unreal unison, their steps matched only by the fire in their eyes. While the battle had been waged, Jasper had not stopped muttering, and with a final cry, he finished the incantation.

A pillar slid out of the wall, hitting Echo in the back. A pentagram spins and several latches held the mysterious man onto it, allowing Jasper to finally catch his breath. Looking at his opponent, he noticed that this had been the first time he was able to clearly see him since the battle had began. In his hand he held a black sword, blade glowing red in similar fashion to Jasper's. Composing himself, Jasper addresed Echo.

"You are not getting into this vault for your prize. I have worked too hard for you to just take it for your own."

A slow laugh came from the bound Echo. Locking eyes with Jasper, he unexpectedly vanished from his confinement. Much to his shock and awe, the crime lord now felt the chilling flat of blade pressed against his neck, along with a familiar and cryptic voice that rang in his ear.

"Who said anything about what I seek resting behind a vault?"

THE END

written by Mr. Monk and edited by Echo Uchiha