Prologue
What If? This is a question everyone asks. What if there was a sword? What if there was a sword possessed? What if there was a sword of demonic will, of carnage and evil? This sword would be called the Demon Blade, sometimes known as the Sword of Salvation. It would be easily identifiable by an evil eye. That eye would be alive. It would take over the wielder's will and body and make them it's own. It would be called Soul Edge. Yet, for so clear a villain, a hero is needed. What better to combat a sword than another sword? This sword would be a sword of purity and light, of good will, maybe even divinity. This sword would be characterized by an almost tangible aura of divinity, of goodness and light. It would fill the wielder with hope and strength. Even be known as the Spirit Sword. It would be called Soul Calibur. It would battle the evil, viscous Soul Edge behind the scenes of history for all time. They would be almost alive. They would be alive. They would have a history in Egypt, even. Almost unknown, the valiant Soul Calibur would fight the infamous Soul Edge. This…This is their story.
The Chapter 1-The Group
From A Tale of Carnage and Chaos by Josh Heinlen
"How about a little less question, and a little more shut the hell up!?" Jeremiah, also known as Jeremy, said to his best friend Siegfried. Yeah, Sig's parents were evil. And game addicts. Their other son was named Nightmare, although that was rather fitting. That guy was evil with a capital V!! Or was that E? Jeremy pondered. Their dog was named Astaroth. Also fitting. Jeremy's thoughts snapped back to the present, watching Siegfried play another game of hackysack with their other friend, Carlos 'Voldo' Kaperham. Yes, they all loved Soul Calibur.
Seigfried missed the toss of the sack, and his shoe hit a rusty old nail on the wall. His foot began to bleed. "Aw, shit!" he exclaimed, pulling out a first aid kit they kept under and old floorboard. They were in an abandoned house. A domestic one, not a warehouse.
Seigfried asked Jeremy again, "Why don't you just ask her out?" impatiently.
"Milta? The girl with that Asian-Pacific-Islander-Hispanic-whatever the hell it is name?" Carlos asked. "You mean Jer-bear likes her!?" he inquired, dropping the hackysack. "I…hate…it…when you call me that!" Jeremy said, chucking the crowbar semi-playfully at Carlos. Then he went to retrieve it.
"Ah…the delightfully murky smell of the East L.A. sewage." Said a new voice, just entering. The voice belonged to a young man who would be best described as beautiful. Even as a baby, he was beautiful. His parents, who were more learned than Sig's, gave him an according name. "Dude, Whatup?" Sig said. "And, Raphael, close the door." Jeremy added nasally. He was holding his nose against the onslaught of filth.
Another man came in, rougher around the edges than the first, and less beautiful, and ruddier. He had a look that made him look as if he had been raised in the woods, and behind his hard-as-steel eyes and calm, soothed look, there was an animal of cruelty and hatred. His name was Nightmare. He picked up a large metal paddle he always left just inside the door. "Sig. Home." He said. He never used more than one word if he could help it. "Mom's angry." He finished, and began polishing the rusted steel.
Seigfried got up with a sigh, and began trudging toward the door. He stopped, and looked back at the others doing their own thing. Voldo was practicing hackysack, Nightmare was polishing the blade-like paddle, Raphael was reading a book on arts, and Jeremy was just looking at the crowbar, God only knowing what he was thinking. Jeremy looked up at Sig. "Soo?" he said, all he wanted to ask in that single syllable. "I don't know if I can make it back tonight." Seigfried answered.
"Hey, Carlos, wanna come over for dinner?" he asked. "You're practically another brother anyway." He said smugly, looking at Nightmare. "Sure!" Voldo said, shrugging. He hopped down, grabbing his hackysack. "See y'all at school tomorrow!" he exclaimed, cheerfully waving. He was seemingly always cheerful. He walked along with his friend to his house.
"Mark my words, Carlos Kaperham will be the death of us all." Nightmare said harshly. Nightmare went to the door and called for his pet crow. "Deathwatch," he called. The crow soared into the last remaining rays of sunlight, blotting them out. "Now that's creepy." Jeremy said, looking at the spectacle. "We'd better get home too, eh, Raphael?" he said, and began walking. Raphael grabbed the book and, snapping it closed, followed suit.
* * *
Siegfried woke the next day, and saw, through bleary eyes, that his brother was already dressed, fed, and ready for school. He was also staring at Seigfried with a harsh glare. "So. You're up." Nightmare observed. He stood up, and got their Bulldog/Rottweiler/Neopolitan mastiff named Astaroth. "Don puddim' on mehy behd." Seigfried said through the grogginess of morning.
Nightmare callously disobeyed, and put the giant dog on the bed. The large canine began to slobber on Seigfried. Sig quickly awoke. "Aw, man, Night, did ya have to do that?!" he asked indignantly. He jumped out of bed in his boxers. His muscular torso rippled through the motion. He seemed to have inhuman grace, bested only by his friend Raphael. He ran to the bathroom and took a long shower. It was probably three times as long as it needed to be. He enjoyed letting the hot water run over him. After he got out and dried off, he went back to his room to change. He put on his clothes, a modest outfit of baggy Levi's and a white T-shirt with a large 'Oregon; Sea Lions' Cavern' logo on it. He walked out into the kitchen, snagging three bags of Pop-Tarts. "Why so many, Brother?" The cold, metallic voice of Nightmare rang out.
Seigfried turned and said, "I'm really hungry today. I'll eat 'em on my way to school…or in first period…or in passing…" he listed, trailing off. Nightmare looked at him coldly. He grunted, and grabbed his backpack off the shelf. "What are you doing, Nightmare!?" Seigfried asked, looking at his older brother like he was crazy. "It's still five-thirty!" he said, Nightmare pushing past him. "I like the early mornings to think." The cold-hearted one said, taking one last look back at his younger brother. Then the door was swinging. Nightmare made no sound as he crossed the gravel. I wish I knew how he does it, Seigfried thought. Then he shook his head and turned back to his backpack. It was messy and disorganized. He liked it that way. He zipped it up, thought better of it, and unzipped it. Now all he had to do was remember what he'd wanted to unzip it for. Great. Another one of those days. He grabbed his black leather jacket and, slipping his messenger bag over his shoulder, began to walk to the high school.
Page 2, chapter 1
At the same time, Jeremy was waking up. "Arurgh…" he grunted. "School…" he said, as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. He got up, and tasting the morning mouth, went to brush his teeth. While brushing, he heard scraping, as if water against rusty steel. He stopped, and so did the sound. He started brushing again, and the sound started up. But when he stopped again, so did the sound.
"Huh," Jeremy said, and looked in the mirror at his teeth. There was a thin coating of something. He flicked it. Steel. He grinned, and his teeth looked normal. "How strong is it?" he said to himself, and, after a moment's hesitation, bit down on the counter. A piece of the counter came off in his mouth. He quickly spit it out. "Gross!" he said. Then, grinning, he went downstairs. He grabbed a quick Kudos bar, and looked at the bulletin board. There was a new note. 'Jeremy, your mother and I have to be out of town for a few weeks. Business. You understand. Sorry we couldn't be there for the performance. All the money for the week is here.' Jeremy looked under it, and, sure enough, pinned to the bulletin board, was the money. Jeremy grinned. He was going to have fun.