The Japanese Prime Minister stood and bowed. “Thank you, Sensei. Your services to the Japanese Branch of Global Justice once again has saved the world.”
“It is my honor to serve.” said Sensei, bowing back. “If my small part can… can….”
“Sensei!” Yori shouted, as she watched the old man who had taught her so much collapsed on the floor. The prime minister gasped in shock, the government officials gathered in the small office stunned into immobility. Yori alone moved, rushing to her fallen teacher. “The school…” he whispered. “The Lotus Blade… it is in danger.”
Yori pulled a small cell phone from a hidden pocket. “We need immediate transport to the school.” she snapped into it. “Priority, Lotus Blade!”
“Ah, Montey!” said Senor Senior Sr, grinning happily. “Rested, I hope?”
Montey Fisk, aka Monkey Fist, looked arround the room. It was an underground chamber, obviously protected against many of the surveilence technologies used by Global Justice. Four metal chairs ringed a large glass table. Three of the chairs were occupied. The center chair, of course, held Senor Senior Sr. At Senor Senior Sr’s right hand sat Gemini, smirking at the spindly, genetically modified super villian. At Senor Senior Sr’s left sat Dr. Drakken. The blue skinned mad scientist looked different then the last time Monkey Fist had seen him. Dr. Drakken’s eyes were bloodshot and his hands trembled, slightly, as he reached for his water glass.
“It’s very important you’re well rested, yes.” said Dr. Drakken. “Very important.”
Monkey Fist glanced at the empty chair. The position of the chair was odd; it sat a little removed from the other three, so that someone sitting in it could easily watch the other three. Behind it, stood what Monkey Fist assumed to be some sort of modern sculpture; a round cylinder, about seven feet high and four feet in diamater, made of some sort of shimmery, iridescent white material. Black cables and tubes were glued to the sides of the cylinder, glistening in the office lights, giving the sculpture an unsettling organic quality.
“Sit, Monkey Fist.” said Gemini. “We have an offer for you. Our organization, you see, has need of your special talents.”
Monkey Fist sat in the chair, examining the other three. “I see.” he said. “While I am grateful for the rescue, I am still not convinced that I want to be a part of your group.”
“Oh, we don’t want YOU.” said Senor Senior Sr.
Metal bands suddenly erupted from the chair Monkey Fist sat in, wrapping around his arms, legs, and chest. Before Monkey Fist could react, he was immobilized.
Monkey Fist strained against the metal restraints, but for all his knowledge of Monkey Kung-Fu was unable to escape.
“What’s going on?” he demanded. “You said you needed my abilities, I assure you this is NOT the way to get them!”
“Oh, but it IS!” said Dr. Drakken, standing excitedly. From his dark black lab coat, he pulled an oversized remote control. When he pressed a button on it, the chair Monkey Fist sat imprisoned in began to move back toward what Monkey Fist was rapidly realizing was no simple piece of artwork.
“And now…” said Dr. Drakken, his finger posed over a bright red button on the remote.”
“Hold it, doctor.” said Senor Senior Sr. “You are forgetting something!”
Dr. Drakken blinked. “Let me check my notes…” he said, setting the remote down. He drew a yellow note pad from his coat. Several pages were covered in barely comprehensible words, numbers, and symbols. He scanned over his cryptic handwriting. “We have Monkey Fist… he’s in the assimilation chair… he can’t escape… he’s completely at our mercy… of which we have none. What am I forgetting?”
“Doctor, doctor, doctor.” said Senor Senior Sr, shaking his head. “What does EVERY super villain do, when they have someone completely at their mercy?”
“Explain their evil plan, of course.” said Gemini. “Really, Drakken, I’d expect better of you.”
“He’s a villain, not a hero! We don‘t need to explain it to him!” said Drakken. He sighed, seeing the other two members of the group were clearly going to insist. “All right, all right, but make it snappy…. The S.E.O. is at a critical phase in his development.”
“S.E.O?” demanded Monkey Fist. “What’s going on? Release me, or suffer the wrath of the monkey king!”
“My dear Monkey Fist, we are creating the ultimate villain.” said Senor Senior Sr. “The Supremely Evil One… or S.E.O., as our science friend here occasionally refers to him as.”
“Your knowledge of Monkey kung fu, and your mystic monkey powers, will make a fine addition to our new leader.” said Gemini.
“You’re mad! Mad!” said Monkey Fist.
“Thank you!” chorused Gemini and Senor Senior Sr, in unison.
“May I get on with it?” asked Dr. Drakken. “I’d like this finished before the sword gets here.”
“The sword?” said Monkey Fist. He gasped. “The Lotus Blade! You fiends! That sword is to be mine! Monkey mastery is mine, and deserves to be mine alone!”
“But now… it is ours.” said Senor Senior Sr. “Push the button, Drakken.”
Dr. Drakken frowned but obediently pressed the big, red button on the remote. Black tubes reached out, tentacle like, from the white cylinder and wrapped around Monkey Fist’s bound body, in a sickening travesty of a loving embrace.
Monkey Fisk screamed in shear violation as he felt every drop of mystical monkey energy be drained from his body, every scrap of the anchient powers which he had worked so hard to obtain be latterly ripped away from him. At the same time, he could feel his mind being searched, the secrets of Monkey Kung-Fu being copied and given to whatever being was growing inside this tank.
After what seamed to Monkey Fist to be an eternity and fifteen minutes to the others, the black tentacles released Monkey Fisk. The once arrogant, aristocratic villain now lay slumped in his chair. Only his eyes, spread wide in sheer horror, or the occasional spasm revealed any sign of life.
“Monkey Fist? Are you in there? Yoo-hoo!” said Dr. Drakken.
Monkey Fist’s lips moved… no sound coming forth, but shaping the word ‘mad’ once again.
“Did it work, doctor?” asked Senor Senior Sr., impatiently.
Dr. Drakken frowned, then went to the cylinder. The black tubes and cables twitched, moving away from Dr. Drakken to reveal a glowing computer screen. “Download complete, gentlemen. Our new Supremely Evil One has full mastery of Monkey Kung-Fu, the equal of our genetically modified friend here.”
“And the mystical monkey energy?” demanded Senor Senior Sr.
Dr. Drakken shrugged. “We won’t know for sure until the sword gets here, but all signs seem to indicate… success.”
Senor Senior Sr. pressed a button on the table. “Clean up crew to the main chamber.” he ordered. “We’ll wait here for the sword. In the mean time, please take Montey Fisk down to D.N.Amy’s quarters… her payment for her help with our little side project.”
Dr. Drakken sat in his chair, taking another sip of water. “I’m worried we may be moving too fast. Making mistakes with the Supremely Evil One’s training.”
“Doctor, doctor…” said Senor Senior Sr. “Calm yourself. Everything is going perfectly. Perfectly.”
The three sat in silence, Senor Senior Sr. and Gemini calmly and Dr. Drakken getting up and pacing every few minutes.
Finally, a World-wide Evil Empire agent rushed in. In his hands, he carried a metal sword. “We’ve returned. We lost half the squad to those ninjas, and the rest of us our pretty injured. Beg to report that….”
“Later!” said Gemini. “We have the sword. That is all that matters.”
Reverently, as if taking part in some sacred ceremony, Senor Senior Sr. took the sword and carried it to the tank. Glistening, oily black tendrils extended from the sides of the tank, wrapping around the sword handle and taking it from Senor Senior Sr.
The three super-villians watched as the sword was held high in the air above them. The sword rippled, and then elongated. Instead of the smooth, classic appearance it had when it was brought into the room, the blade now serations running up one side, like the teeth of a saw. On the other side of the sword, jagged edges grew, seemingly random but clearly intended to inflict pain.
“Gentlemen!” said Senor Senior Sr, pulling a bottle of champagne from a hidden cooler. “To our boy!”
“Hirotaka!” Yori cried, as she rushed through the ruins of the secret ninja high school. Sensei followed more slowly. Dozens of his trained students were scattered, fallen from where they had fought. They had fought bravely, using swords and chains and fists. Despite their dedication and training, they had fallen victim to ruthless men who had brought machine guns and flamethrowers to this sacred training site.
The defenders had not died alone; bodies of their attackers also scattered the ground. Sensei feared, though, that he and Yori were the only two living souls in the school. He found, to his surprise, he was only mostly right.
In the absence of both Yori and Sensei, it had fallen to Hirotaka to lead the school. Sensei found Hirotaka and Yori in the room where the Lotus Blade had been kept safe. Hirotaka was laying on the ground, his head resting in Yori’s lap. His non-conventional leather jacket was ripped and torn by bullet fire, and Yori kneeled in a pool of Hirotaka’s own blood, apparently unconcerned about what it was doing to her outfit. The bodies of dozens of attackers lay scattered around the room.
“Master… I have failed…” Hirotaka gasped. “There were too many of them, and they had no respect for the anchient ways.”
“Rest… help is on the way.” said Sensei. He reached out, trying to bend mystical energies to heal his badly wounded student. Much to Sensei’s surprise, he felt Hirotaka reach out for the power; instead of using it to stay alive, Hiortaki used it to force his body to gasp out his last message to his teacher.
“They took the Lotus Blade, master. They said it would be given to… the supremely evil one.” Hirotaka gasped. “They said they are unstoppable, now that they have the…”
“Have what, Hirotaka?” demanded Sensei. “The lotus blade?”
Hirotaka shook his head, slightly, and whispered his last words. Yori bent close to his lips, hearing them, then looked up at Sensei. Cradling Hirotaka’s now dead body, she repeated his last words. “Sensei, the men said they now have… the Ron factor.”