The leader of the Fission Ninja’s saw his moment of attack. His name was Stalin and at this time of night, he only carried his purple grape ninja outfit. The only time you would be able to see him come is if you mistook the moon’s white for the white of his eyes. He was hiding behind a fence until he saw Chuck, a Cyber Samurai, the arch nemesis of the Fission Ninja’s. They hold their money and build the greatest shields from the other factions. His outfit shinned like a streak of light, not really trying to hide himself but calling the fight like the color red to a bull. Chuck was looking around, waiting for the some one to finally make there move but he just leaned on a brick wall with a cool swagger. He was known to hardly ever provoke a fight, that would be against there code, they wait to defeat the violent to even absorb there financial growth.
Stalin knew he was on patrol and his rooftop was only twenty feet above Chuck’s. He contemplated the suicide for a second but knew his calling. He took a few steps back on the gravel roof top and took a running start. His suit was skin tight so no needless drag on his parkour stunts. As he approached the fence at hyper humanoid speed, he jumped off, taking his black gloved hands and slid them into the chain linked fence and immediately pulled upwards so he didn’t lose his momentum. He sensed danger, the smell of an accrued smell that was out of place, but he was flipping from the upward tug, bringing his whole body around, somersaulting, perfectly once and his legs were already straightening out, embracing the fence post. When he hit, he shifted his knees to use those joints as a trampoline adjusting himself over the gap between buildings forty feet below. All he saw in that gap was a tunnel of darkness. He was sailing though, gliding like any super heroes that carries a cape that looks like a baby blanket. His body silhouetted under the full moon in Morocco.
These executives only portrayed hooligans. They were really multi-billionaires going around to these dead cities, destroying them to rubbish but as long as they were used to change the world, they served a purpose. Usually people think, how naive, that high business sails were settled over tables and business meetings but in reality, they are fought over. Hardly death’s ever occurred, when do you hear about a rich person dying? Money is worth more then life any way so why try to ruin a little fun when you can win or lose it all? Demands during these fights weren’t improbable, usually a few shares here and there so they lost their hold of their purposeful monopolies. Tonight was a battle in Rabat and it was time to destroy these century old civilizations. America is where the money is from but it decays all the old life, anything that could be seen as appreciative. The past is depressing, they didn’t even have 401K’s!
Stalin took a mid-air dive toward Chuck like he was about to dive into a pool. About to hit in T-minus seven seconds, slicing through the wind, his face clenched as he was ready to explode his black belted, judosake, boot into Chuck’s nanotitanite-plated chest armor. He closed his eyes before contact, the hit could turn into destroying a star from all this pseudo-technology. Chuck, who has large brimmed, black glasses finally saw the building next to him decay from the pressure of Stalin’s moon jump. The building could hardly hold it’s tenants so the stones started crumbling, tumbling like a rolling stone. Where did they find these old stones and how did they cement them together, with blood and sweat. He didn’t become aware in time. Stalin’s foot landed at Chuck’s sternum and broke his suit in half. It was like watching a person flick a cigarette, ash floating everywhere like dust. Everything attached to his torso fell into a rubble surrounding him, worth a half a billion dollars. He slid backwards, expecting more to come and now his position was down. His patrol was a failure. He realized it was just Stalin, a scrawny English guy he was acquainted with. They knew each other from a few different functions. Some upper class parties and out in the roof tops, trying to gain leverage over the Dartin’ Spartans and the Riot Pirates.
He reached his arm backwards instinctually and unsheathed his laser sword from it’s Osmium sheath. He spun it around and around sending fragments of light into the cloudy night souring above. Stalin looked un-impressed but since he was wearing dark clothing, Chuck couldn’t see that his knees were shaking. He looked intimidating just standing defenseless but there the lack of shadows defeated Chuck’s depth of field. Chuck slid his right foot forward and begin to moonwalk forward, tempting his might and sword towards Stalin. Chuck was revealed but he had the upper hand, he had a huge fucking sword worth millionaires in Research and Development alone. He took a tomahawk chop at Stalin, cutting through the loose fog but Stalin went into the splits as it was a foot way from his skull and then tumbled out of the way. The sword hit the ceiling of the roof which exploded with shards of foundation and sprayed them both with sediment that was laid a century ago. The building didn’t settle right after that crack and started creaking underneath the weight of the sword. It was like a earthquake hit America, but no one was worrying. Stalin stepped back again as Chuck was preoccupied with trying to dislodge his sword from the stone building. Stalin bowed, began to sprint and tip toed up the sword, jumped over Chuck who didn’t notice this, landed on the wall behind Chuck, pulled himself up and kicked up off the wall and front flipped, sailing in the night sky until he landed his ass on Chuck’s shoulder.
Chuck was terrified. He was trying to save his wallet before trying to settle the score with one of his arch-nemesis. The leader of the Fission Ninja’s, Stalin put his gloved together and looked up at the moon and absorbed the beauty. He prayed then put all his weight into his back, letting gravity and his momentum take Chuck from underneath him for one second and have him fly though the air, at least five feet off the ground, mowing down those pipes on top of buildings that serve no purpose that is economical, until he reached the ledge which bursted from his velocity but he, using faith grabbed the ledge on and held on for minute life.
Stalin landed with a lot of force still on his knees and he was a little sazed from the maneuver but he got up with grace. He stepped out to the ledge with his eyes closed. He took his boot and placed it on the exposed knuckles of Chuck who was screaming
“Please save me, I am worth Billions! I can’t die.”
“Are you going to do what I asked?”
“Oh come on, that’s half my fortune.”
“Well I have you life. You know the deal, it’s assumed you fucking novice.”
Stalin spit in his general direction and it ricocheted off Chuck’s helmet and opened up like a parachute while it was falling into that darkness from before.
“Fine, I’ll sell my stocks of Coke to you for 1/4 the price.”
“Deal.”
“Deal.”
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