This is it, fight fans. The moment you've all been waiting for . . .

Rich

I stood up and shook my head to clear the cobwebs, instantly regretting doing so as my skull throbbed in anguish. My vision cleared just in time to see Tony and the assassin stumble through the open doors of one of the elevators. The combatants were clutching each other fiercely, hands on throats and fire in their eyes.
I rushed forward to help my friend, but the doors slid shut milliseconds before I could reach him. My hands pounded helplessly on the indifferent, gleaming surface of the elevator doors.
I was roused from my distress by a commotion to my right.
Sam was leading a herd of people—most of the board of directors, several security guards, and a handful of robotic patrol drones down the stairs to the lower floors.
I glanced at the lighted numbers above the elevator doors.
“They’re past the 44th!” I yelled as I ran to join them.

We bolted down the stairs, our steps echoing hollowly and blending with the muffled grunts and bangs which were coming from the descending elevator.
At the 38th floor, the elevator stopped. The ding of the opening doors, which before had been light and trivial, was now a sound of terrible ill omen.
We poured out of the stairway onto the hallway just in time to see Tony and the assassin tumble out of the elevator backwards, rolling and somersaulting across the hall right into a heavy metal door. They crashed through it and flew out of sight into the room beyond. Their fall was accompanied by a cacophonous clatter that sounded as if someone had upended several drawers of silverware. I was disoriented and I could feel a sticky warmth dripping down the back of my neck. It took me a minute to get my bearings straight. As soon as I did, I noticed the sign on the door that Tony and that bastard had smashed through.
In large, official, red letters which urged me to take them seriously, it read:

Ninja Pirate Incorporated

Arsenal 7:

Authorized Personnel Only

Tony and the assassin had just fallen into the largest cache of weapons in a thirty mile radius.

I peeked into the room. Tony and the intruder lay sprawled out amidst a scattered plethora of sharp things. As I stepped gingerly through the doorway they were groggily getting to their feet. I could sense the crowd gathering behind me, hear their shallow, pained breathing and slight groans. It seemed everyone was intent on witnessing the imminent confrontation between the two warriors. I paid no attention to the group at my back, however. My eyes were riveted on the two figures in the armory. They stood tensed, about to strike-- hands twitching, itching to get at the deadly implements around them.
"Rich," Tony said, not taking his eyes off his opponent, "Please take these people out of here, this might get messy."
He sounded at once urgent and deathly calm. An eerie glint had come into Tony eyes, one I had seen before, and only in . . . messy circumstances. I knew enough not to question.
"Yeah, boss," I said, still keeping my eyes on the combatants. I began to slowly back out, arms spread as barriers, shepherding the assemblage into the relative safety of the lobby. "Stay back, find cover, and do not make easy targets of yourselves," I instructed them grimly.
Tony gave us a brief sideways glance to make sure we were out of the way, and then dropped and snatched the closest available weapon.

The battle began.

Tony had grabbed a handful of shuriken, rolled to his left, and jumped up throwing. Jackie was a step ahead, already heaving knives from a rack nearby. The two fighters dodged with blinding speed as the projectiles flew past. Some of the jagged missiles actually collided in mid-air with a frightful *clang* and ricocheted off into the room.
I winced as a knife grazed Tony's cheek, and cheered when a shuriken cut the assassin across the ribs.
Tony narrowed his eyes and, in a remarkable display, shot out a hand and caught one of Jackie's throwing knives. The assassin had but one blade remaining. He smiled and nodded his appreciation of Tony's maneuver, then, flipping the knife in his hand to a downward, stabbing grip also used for defense in knife-fighting, advanced.
Tony gripped his weapon in a similar manner and stepped forward, treading over the scattered instruments of war. The enemies grinned once- flashing their teeth in humorless tiger-smiles, and then struck simultaneously.
I strained to see their slashes and parries- struggled to discern the specifics of the fight amongst the blindingly fast flashes of steel. They would weave back and forth. Rise and duck and rise again. I was aware of their battle mostly through the grunts of exertion and pain and the horrible *clash, clang, shikt* of metal on metal. The blades whirred and scraped and parted the air. The two combatants moved like vipers trapped in a pit.
Strike and recoil and block and strike again without cease.
Finally, Tony lunged, locked blades with the intruder, then flicked his wrist and sent the assassin's dagger flying. Before he could use this swift disarming to his advantage, his opponent spun and delivered a jarring kick to Tony's stomach. NP Inc's CEO and defender doubled over and stumbled backward. Jackie spun and kicked again, knocking Tony's blade from his hand. Tony recovered quickly and procured another weapon from the chaos around him.
In scraped but steady hands he gripped a bow staff. The assassin helped himself to some nunchaku, and smiled when Tony flinched at the sight of that fearful weapon. But Tony steeled himself and strode forward, and once again the opponents met.

They dodged and ducked amidst the whirling of the nunchaku and the twirling of the staff. Now the battle was marked by the *clunk, clack* of wood on wood. Both fighters moved with skill and grace and evaded each others blows for most of the struggle.
They had fought to a standstill when Jackie landed a strike on Tony's thigh, cracking his femur. Tony cried out in pain as his leg gave out from under him. Jackie leaned back, raised the chained clubs, about to deliver the killing blow. Just as the nunchaku fell, Tony raised his staff above his head, blocking the strike and trapping his enemy's weapon as the nunchaku coiled itself around the bow. Jackie gasped in shock. Tony took advantage of his opponent's surprise and gave the staff a furious yank, ripping Jackie's weapon from his hands and sending both weapons flying across the room.
"Keep practicin', Sally," Tony said.
Jackie leapt forward with a snarl and tackled the injured ninja. They rolled over the weapons, upsetting stacks of knives, tipping racks of swords, punching, chopping, striking, slamming.
The battle raged around the armory, the opponents using any weapon their hands passed over. They were both highly skilled and thus well matched, and the struggle seemed to be an ongoing stalemate.
They stood, Tony favoring his broken leg, Jackie, his fractured wrist, sweat dripping, stinging their countless wounds. They each gripped a katana with both hands. Now, I thought, would Tony prove his superiority. Now, at last, would the intruder be stopped. The enemies clashed, blades glinting in the harsh halogen bulbs overhead, making circles and arcs of light. Tony was an expert swordsman and his skill was making itself known. Jackie was slowly being overpowered. Tony's win was almost certain when suddenly Jackie parried a thrust and sent Tony tumbling backward with a shoulder-butt.
Jackie, knowing he had little chance beating Tony with the blade, dropped his sword and drew a pistol from a shoulder holster. I ran toward my friend.
The intruder looked at Tony, his blue eyes gleaming wildly, a mad, bloody grin stretched across his pale face.
"Tony, get down!" I shouted, tackling him to the floor and knocking us both behind a solid marble counter Jackie opened fire. Bullets whizzing by us. I chanced a look around the side of our shield and was rewarded with a nasty cut from a shard of splintered stone.
Jackie stopped firing for a moment.
"Thank you for the diversion, gentlemen," he said, beginning to make his way around the counter to us.
"I must say I've-,"
He was then rudely interrupted by a bottle, which connected solidly with the side of his head. He staggered, and his shots went astray, shattering the tile near our heads. Jackie was too disoriented to realize he had emptied his clip. He turned and aimed in the direction whence flew the bottle. A second bottle spun through the air, closely followed by a third.
Jackie raised his arms to deflect the projectiles and shield himself from the broken glass.
"You stupid bastard!" he hissed, aiming his gun again.
*click, click*
"Me stupid? You're the one who forgot to reload, cock-swab!" Sam said, stepping through the doorway. He readied another bottle. Where he kept getting them from was anybody's guess. The assassin wasn't done yet. Even wounded and worn, Jackie moved with uncanny speed. He dropped to the left, rolled, and snatched up his discarded katana. This he hurled at Sam like a javelin, catching the shoulder of his suit coat and pinning him to the wall.
"Fuckin' asswad," Sam spat, grimacing.
Having dispatched Sam, Jackie reloaded his pistol. He started back toward us.
We were still crouched, bleeding and frantic, behind the counter. Well, I, at least, was frantic. Tony's face was impassive. The stoic, warrior-component of his spirit was bearing up to what seemed like certain death.
"Tony," I hissed, "let's get out of here. That madman's gonna puncture us with hot balls of lead until we die."
Tony looked at me, unimpressed with the warning.
"M'eh," was all he said.
He snatched a knife off the floor. I noticed a tremble in his hand which broke my heart.
"I intend to finish this one way or another."
"C'mon, buddy," I pleaded. "He who fights and runs away-"
"Is a coward," Tony finished.
And before I could stop him, he stood up and faced his opponent.
"Over here, suckaduck," Tony called to him.
Jackie was about to fire when a noise from behind distracted him. He turned to see what looked like the half the board of directors streaming in through the door. Jackie took several steps backward, shattered glass crunching beneath his Italian loafers. He was bleeding from a head wound courtesy of Sam. His once white suit was torn, stained, and likewise covered in blood. I could see that this fellow was at the end of his rope.
But apparently, I figured too soon.
Three security guards rushed forward, swinging batons. Jackie pumped four bullets into one before the others wrested the gun from his hand. He shot out a fist and snapped another’s sternum. Then he forced the last into a headlock and bounced him savagely, breaking his neck. He grabbed a spear from a rack to his right and ran it through the advancing robotic drones, turning them into an awkward-looking mechanical shish kebab.
Dan was next to reach the assassin. He raised his fist and brought it down in a hammer blow certain to break the man's clavicle. Jackie saw it coming and sidestepped. He grabbed Dan's wrist, twisted it, and then gave him a chop to the ribs. Dan grimaced in pain and was thrown to the ground. Jackie kicked him in the head before he could get back up, knocking him out.
Jake charged forward, attempting a tackle, wisely making use of his bulk. Jackie ducked and shot out a hand, striking him in the throat. Jake's olive complexion turned blue and he likewise collapsed.
Caitlin and Andrew, an unlikely pair, attacked from both sides. Pawel came at the assassin from the front. Jackie moved like a tornado, swinging and striking left and right. Within a few seconds he had defeated the entire group.
Tony and I decided it was well passed time to act and, with a roar, charged forward. Jackie whirled around and pulled a hand of poker chips from and inside pocket of his jacket.
"Stop!" he commanded, and we did.
He went on. "I must say you've all proven a much bigger headache than I thought you would. Had I still my hat, I'd've tipped it to you. Unfortunately, I have business to attend to and really cannot waste any more time."
Before either of us could react, he hurled the poker chips at the ceiling above our heads. The little disks flew, emitting a series of beeps, and then struck. And that's when, from my point of view, anyway, the whole world exploded.


Jackie managed to hurl himself backward and away from the worst of the blast. He rolled clear and sprang up to see the carnage left in the wake of the poker chips.
A healthy portion of the ceiling had collapsed, blanketing the armory with plaster dust, twisted metal, and broken beams, and bringing with it several pieces of office furniture. The entire force of defenders was buried beneath the rubble. One of Andrew’s lanky arms, protruding from a mountain of debris, was flapping weakly.
The groans and cries emanating from the wreckage told Jackie that they were not all dead-- at least, not yet. But he had little time to stay and slay. He brushed himself clean of dust and took off, limping at a good clip, down the hall.


"Tony," I said, my voice choked with plaster and muffled by the debris, "you all right?"
"No," Tony said, speaking through teeth clenched in pain. "My leg is broken. I've been stabbed, shot, burned, and beaten. Now I am buried underneath half of the 39th floor."
I paused.
"But other than that?"
"I'm fine," he conceded. "I'm fuckin' jim dandy."
"So," I went on, attempting to aid the cheery flow of conversation, "what do you think he came here for?"
Although I couldn't see Tony, covered as I was by a mountain of plaster, wood, cement, and rebar, I'm fairly sure I could feel the impatience and anger emenating off of him.
"I haven't the foggiest notion," Tony said, speaking slowly and deliberately to keep from shouting, "why that slick son of a bitch broke into our headquarters. As of right now, I'd say he was trying to kill us."
I snorted, expelling a cloud of white dust.
"Hell, boss, everybody and his hot mom is trying to kill us."
"Well," Tony said, "seeing as we can't exactly ask him his intentions, trapped as we are beneath the ruins of your office--"
"My office?!" I cut him off. "How do you know?"
It was then that I spied with my little eye-- the one that wasn't swollen shut-- a torn copy of Pervert's Digest, my favorite magazine, lying ripped and charred near my face.
"That inconsiderate bastard!" I yelled.
"Anyway," said Tony, "I'm just going to lie here and wait for help. Your ceasless inane babble isn't going to do us any good."
There was a prolonged silence.
"I've got an idea!" I said at last. "Let's share our favorite sexual fantasies!"

To Be Continued Further . . .