By Jim Robert Bader
(The Character of Chakar Shadowmane was created by me,
the rest who appear are guests stars created by other writers)
"Too bad, it was a lovely planet."
The galactic space scum who chuckled at their leader's idly voice observation silently agreed that it was a shame that such a promising world had to be wiped out of existence, but it did make for a lovely sight as it exploded into so much galactic rubble. It was far from the first time that they had watched an inhabited world be destroyed for nothing more serious than the perverse whim of their leader, nor did any shed a tear for the billions of inhabitants who had briefly cried out in shock and dismay before at last all were silenced.
"A pity they were so unreasonable," Zarbon-the right hand man to their unrelentingly merciless leader-mused in an off-handed manner, "We could have earned twice our normal fee in selling that world to the highest bidder."
"We didn't need such a pathetic mud ball or the weaklings who lived there," replied the indomitable Frieza in pitiless contempt, "They dared defy me, the Great Frieza, and so they have paid the price for their defiance. Let that be a lesson to any others who would dare to oppose my glory."
"As you say, Master," Zarbon noted, only to turn with a start as the Scouter he wore hooked over his left ear clicked to life, one second before a swirl of shadows partially blocked out the light from the main ship viewer portal.
The bridge crew of Frieza's vessel all turned as one to see the figure who appeared before their master. Some exhaled in mild relief, wondering what had caused them to feel a sudden touch of fear run down their spines, while others narrowed the focus of their eyes and studied the profile of the shadowy figure, whose back was turned to their lord and master and whose black cloak obscured all but the back side of his head. The figure was peering down through the portal window at the fiery destruction of a world and seemed to take no interest in those who were staring in his direction, but then he voiced the words that took everyone by surprise, showing no emotion other than a mild contempt as he said, "Glory, huh? Sounds like another useless poser to me."
"Who are you?" cried Dedorial, another of Frieza's most loyal henchmen, "How dare you speak that way to the great and powerful Frieza?"
"The great and powerful idiot you mean," the caped figure replied, "You know, you really shouldn't have done that. Now you've gone and sealed your fate but good this time, loser."
"Who are you, and how did you get on this bridge?" Zarbon started to demand when he sensed his Master's desire that he fall silent. Bowing his head while containing his rage, Zarbon vowed that he would personally deal with this insolent intruder, assuming his Lord did not exterminate the fool in the next few moments.
"You have a lot of nerve turning your back towards me," Frieza noted with the sly and subtle humor that was his usual trademark, "Do you know who I am and what I am capable of doing?"
"I know everything about you," the stranger replied, "Everything that's worth knowing, which is a lot more than I care to know, seeing as you don't have long to live, Freezer."
"You dare speak this way to me?" Frieza's temper began to flare, which caused everyone around the hovering diminutive alien figure to cringe a little, knowing full well what their Master was capable of when truly aroused, "Don't you know that I could obliterate you with a mere thought...?"
"I don't know anything of the kind," the figure finally turned around and gave a stoical look towards the Galactic Tyrant, "But to me you're just an assignment, one I've been given by a higher authority than you'll ever know in this dimension. The execution order has been signed and sealed, now all that remains is the delivery, and you're looking right at him."
"Interesting," Frieza remarked, "You dare to threaten me, a mere human?"
The galactic terror squad looked on in puzzlement and confusion, seeing a mere human, albeit of more than average height for the species, just a few inches shy of two meters and fairly well built at around a hundred kilograms. Long brown hair framed a youthful face adorned by a mustache and prominent sideburns, giving him a rudely handsome appearance, albeit not all that outstanding, his nose being slightly more prominent than was considered ideal, and his almond-
shaped eyes were as hard as flint, a shade of olive green that glinted faintly in the light of the stars that framed him. Aside from a long black cloak he bore a crimson tunic with silver trim and a prominently displayed wolfshead emblem, long black trousers and high boots making up the rest of his Renaissance-style uniform, giving him a swashbuckling appearance, like a playing card figure come to life.
Other than this there was nothing too exceptional about him, save for the silver brooch that he wore upon his chest, suspended by a chain and forming a star-
shaped pendant upon which was exposed a dull grey stone roughly three centimeters in diameter, yet flecked with silvery shards of light that appeared to glow from within as the man confronted the Space Tyrant and his minions. The only other object of note about his uniform was a silver-basketed handle to a sword that hung from his belt at one side, a hilt that sported a ruby-styled stone roughly two centimeters wide and giving one the impression of a drop of burgundy that was glowing from within.
Frieza looked this colorful figure over and then scoffed, "Am I supposed to be impressed?"
"No," the man replied, "You've got the easy part, you only have to die."
"Hmm..." Frieza studied the man before touching his Scouter and waiting for it to make the appropriate estimation. When the complex machinery was done forming its calculations he was singularly unimpressed, "Fifteen hundred...what a pathetically weak power level. Zarbon, Dedorial, deal with him."
"As you wish," his two minions bowed their head, then became twin blurs as they moved out to flank the figure, who stood his ground as it utterly unconcerned about his peril.
Too fast for human eyes to grasp or mortal minds to conceive the two huge Space Pirates charged the impudent fellow, but though they moved with the speed of lightning itself the figure moved faster still and suddenly each bulky alien found a palm thrust up against his chest, stopping them both in mid-rush as though they had each run into an utterly unmovable object.
"Perhaps I didn't make myself clear," the caped figure said as he held his palms flat against the broad chests of the two huge aliens, "I'm here for your Master. Pups like you should mind their place."
As he said this the pendant on his chest became more silvery, and a light grew up from within in the instant before both of his hands erupted with silvery fire. Zarbon and Grekko cried out in dismay as their internal organs ruptured and exploded, and every cell in their bodies simultaneously shattered, the concordant energies contained within their bodies simultaneously released in one massive, incredible discharge.
The resulting explosion tore the bridge of the ship apart, giving the aliens on board it no time at all to cry out before their lives were snuffed out, the few not instantly killed in the explosion left exposed to hard vacuum. For the longest time there was only the spray of dust, metal and bits of organic matter in all directions, but when the explosion cleared two figures remained...Frieza and the cloaked, immutable figure.
"But...how?" Frieza demanded in the thin void of space, staring at the one who had just annihilated his ship and crew with such a casual gesture.
"You know," the cloaked man responded with a voice that carried clearly in spite of the absence of an atmosphere between them, "If you had merely stopped to question why the people of the Earth have managed to maintain their independence of the millennia that worthless scum like you have attempted to threaten them you might have foreseen this fate and given the human race the by-pass. The Jurai, the Oni, the Kree, Skrull and countless others have tried to rule the destiny of the human race, and all have failed. That is because WE are the guardians of that destiny, and you are nothing more than an arrogant slimeball who crawled as far up the evolutionary chain as he is ever going to get. If you had avoided contact with the Earth then we would have allowed you to go about your merciless ways, but now you've brought our wrath down upon your heads, and nothing you can do will save you from my vengeance."
"You and what army?" Frieza reached up to touch his Scouter, deciding that the first reading had to either be a fluke or else the man before him had some means of hiding his true power level.
"Those Scouters of yours are next to worthless," the man replied, "All they do is pick up a few random signals reading power levels and estimations of combat ability based on predetermined assumptions that are not entirely valid. It's childsplay to mask one's fighting ability from the stupid things, and besides which they don't really take a person's skills into account. Like you they work on the foolish presumption that power is everything and control amounts to nothing."
Frieza ignored the man's explanation and tapped his Scouter anyway, then reacted with disbelief, "Fifteen thousand? You were hiding that much of your true potential?"
"You're not even close to correct on that," the man replied, "And I happen to know that by the slide rule you use that your power level is over a million, but that hardly matters squat to me."
"You fool!" Frieza wanted to cry louder, but in space there was no air, so the best that he could manage was a mental projection, "I still have a hundred times your power level, and more if I should wish it!"
"Big deal," the man replied, "You only control a mere fraction of your power, while I command next to one hundred percent of my power level. It's skill and intelligence that wins in the end, not raw strength, as you believe, and believe me you're not even an armed opponent in that department."
Frieza summoned up his power into his hands and unleashed a massive blast that could have obliterated an entire planet, but the image of the man he was facing never even budged as the blast passed harmlessly through the illusion. All at once the Galactic Tyrant felt a cool hiss against his skin, then turned around in disbelief, finding the sword of the "mere human" had been thrust through the side of his rib cage.
"But...how...?" Frieza gasped, as the man casually removed his sword with a fluid motion, "Who are you?"
"I am Death itself come calling," the human replied casually as flecks of blood began to leak from Frieza's wound, forming a jet of plasma that turned into blobs of floating jello, crystallized almost at once by the combination of intense radiation and hard vacuum, "Azrael, the Angel of Death, or call me Shiva, the Destroyer of Worlds. I am the Grey Lord whose passage marks the end of life and the transition to another dimension. I am here to punish you for your many crimes against sentient life, Frieza, but most specifically for ignoring the warning given you to leave off the Planet Earth, warnings you chose to ignore in your colossal ignorance and folly."
"Ridiculous," Frieza's face became a mask of snarling contempt as he tried to stop the flow of blood with one three-clawed hand, "I don't believe in Angels, Gods or Fairies, they're just myths used to intimidate the foolish and unenlightened! There is nothing greater than the power that is to be found within this world!"
"You think so?" the man flashed his sword as if in mock salute, "Then I suggest you take it up with a higher authority, because I'm sending you there forthwith."
"You...you called yourself the Grey Lord," Frieza coughed up blood, fighting to retain control of his weakening body, "But the Grey Lord is just a myth..."
"Call me a Myth, then," the man's sword flashed with the speed of lightning, dazzling the eye before he resheathed his blade, "It doesn't matter much to me because you're dead, even if you don't already know it."
Frieza started to summon up his power levels, having belatedly erected a shield in an attempt to block off any sword stroke, but for some reason the electrical impulses in his super-charged body refused to work right and his power faltered for the first time in his long and terrible existence. He was just about to mentally voice the question of why this was so when he found himself starting to tumble through the void, his plane of vision doing through a slow spinning motion until the angle of his sight caught a better look at his own body, which remained fairly motionless, if lacking a head above the shoulders.
No head to his body? But that would mean...!
The energy contained within the body of now now-deceased Tyrant no longer had anything to contain it, and as such it erupted like a fusion generator as individual cells supercharged with energy released their pent-up stores in a single, massive explosion. With the force of a small supernova the galactic alien briefly eclipsed the stars and even the sun itself in brightness, then flickered out into the void as all that power flowed out into the ether like a fluid mass filling the space that had been previously empty, and all the while the cloaked man stood to one side and watched with stoical indifference.
"It's done," he murmured at last, then watched as the energy was collected and redirected by force even greater than his own, coalescing around the demolished planet Earth and causing the debris to briefly glow as energy and matter became one, forming a ball of molten energy that rapidly shifted through evolutionary stages.
Within an incredibly short time the planet Earth took form once again, restored to full normalcy as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
Satisfied that the process had successfully been completed, the cloaked man vanished into a swirl of shadows, only to reappear once again on the reformed planet...or-more specifically-within a particular room that was his private, personal office. He glanced around to make certain that everything was exactly as he had left it, then Professor Charles Grey nodded grimly to himself and spoke aloud once more, "Recreation Program complete, reactivate program."
Time itself began to flow normally, and he turned to his desk to see the pictures waiting there exactly as he had left them. His wife and daughter smiled back at him from moments recorded many years back, reassuring him that all was as it should be once again, so he allowed his uniform to shift away, leaving him standing in more relaxed and casual attire worthy of a College History Teacher with Tenure of long standing.
"I hate interruptions from pesky aliens with delusions of godhood," he murmured as he picked up the book he had been reading before receiving his summons from the High Council. He was just in the act of leaning back in his leather chair propping his feet up on the desk when his lady wife appeared at the door to his study, smiling at him as though the world were perfectly ordered.
"You're back already?" she smiled, "Must have been a very short Council meeting."
"More like a summons to a party," Chakar said as he set the book back down upon the table, "Seems a local nuisance was showing up on our doorstep, so the Council had me give him the boot. You know how these Galactic Tyrants can be...they're worse than Jehovah's Witnesses."
"Who was it this time?" asked Garimel as she sauntered into the room, white haired and utterly gorgeous in a casual pair of slacks and tank-top shirt, her pale eyes faintly amused at the nonchalant behavior of her Assassin husband, "Darcon or Galactus?"
"Called himself Frieza," Chakar replied, "An up and coming Space Pirate and number one on the Juraian Most Wanted lists. He's been flitting about threatening, raiding and even blowing up planets for the sheer sport of it all, but he made the mistake of coming here, so the Council gave me sanction to take care of the nuisance."
"Why did they wait so long if he was becoming such a problem?" Garimel wondered, "Inhabitable worlds are not so common that we can afford to let them be blown up like balloons. Think of all those countless civilizations who must have had a pretty bad day with someone like that showing up."
"Oh, you know how the council 'thinks,'" Chakar rolled his eyes, emphasizing the word as if it were a euphemism, "They let some jerk-off with potential run amok for a while so that he presents a challenge for some up-and-coming hero. They keep wanting to create some great Galactic champion that they can use in future projects. You ask me they've been sitting on their high horses so long they don't even know what it's like to come down out of the clouds and try earning a decent paycheck."
"But that's what they have you for, dear," Garimel gave him a particularly saucy look before adding, "Their Lord High Executioner of Policy. You level the playing field and see that everyone keeps things honest."
"Maybe so," replied the Grey Lord, "But I wish they wouldn't keep fatefully interrupting me when I'm trying to catch up on my reading. I almost lost my place in this latest Terry Pratchett novel..."
The intercom on his desk flashed, and Chakar turned a look of annoyance before verbally commanding, "Line Open. What is it this time?"
"Excuse me for my impertinent interruption, Lords Shadowmane," said the droll and urbane voice of Parion Lionswulf, one of their most loyal of all family retainers, "But I fear I must speak with you..."
"What has she done this time?" Chakar growled, rolling his eyes as if beseeching the heavens for mercy.
"Your daughter, my ward, has been...shall we say...up to her usual creative antics," the Lycanthropic Samurai replied, "I will spare you the details, but I have had to come and personally retrieve her from the High School, where she is currently under suspension..."
"AGAIN?" both Chakar and Garimel voiced together.
"You will forgive me, my Lord and Lady, for seeming to step above my place," Parion replied, "But I do believe that this time it is a bit more serious than her usual display of inventive mischief. Your daughter has...how shall I put this? Burned her bridges behind her...literally in the case of this school's administration..."
"I don't suppose another Parent-Teacher conference is in order?" Chakar sighed, "Very well, bring her home and I'll have a talk with Corinella. I'm sure she had her reasons...not that I don't intend to ground her until she's old enough to drink without being carded."
"I should live so long, sir," Parion replied with the tone of one long suffering and bedraggled werewolf, "At any rate we will be at the manor estate within the hour. I merely thought you should be informed now that you have finished with the Council's business."
Chakar placed a hand over his eyes and sighed, "I can take down the worst criminal scum in the galaxy, when they let me, but just try and get my teenaged daughter through graduation..."
"I'll have a talk with her, Dear," Garimel said softly, touching his shoulder, "You know in your heart that she means well...it's just difficult for her to control her impulses. She's very much like what we were at her age, all those centuries ago," she rolled her eyes at the thought of her own misspent youth.
"That's what worries me," Chakar replied, "She's our heir and legacy to the world and has more potential than even we know what to do with, but with her damned addiction to these cartoon-like shenanigans...even the Council is starting to worry about what she may be like when she inherits the Rose Star. We've done our best to train her, but the minute she gets into a situation where she's provoked into using her powers..."
A light rapping on the door directed attention to the other end of the room, but it was Garimel who said, "Yes, who is it?"
The door opened and in walked a beautiful young-seeming girl whose silvery hair was paler than the pale white-gold of Garimel, an easy strut implying that this girl preferred to trot rather than walk like an ordinary human.
"Pardon me for the interruption," Crystal Stargazer began, "But I got the word that Cory's in the doghouse once again, in a manner of speaking."
"That's about the size of it," Chakar leaned his elbows on his desk and steepled his fingers as he regarded the were-Unicorn with a frank expression, "Seems like she's worn out her welcome at yet another High School. I don't suppose you have any idea how we could curb her of this tendency towards practical jokes against people who annoy her?"
"As a matter of fact, Boss," Crystal smiled, "That's exactly what I wanted to tell you. I've been doing a bit of research on the Web regarding High Schools that are used to coping with problem cases of a similar nature and I discovered that Japan has a higher than normal proportion of such cases, some caused by alien transfer students or above-average martial artists, and I think I know of several might just do the trick of teaching Cory to mind her manners."
"By all means, don't keep us in suspense," Garimel urged, "Give us the names, Crystal, darling."
"As you wish it, my lady," the were-Unicorn responded, "Three schools top the list of likely candidates, Tomobiki, Quagmire and Furinkan High School. All three have experienced higher than usual levels of paranormal activity and Cory would fit into any one of them with hardly a ripple."
"Hmm..." Chakar frowned as he considered this, "Not Tomobiki...it's got a lot of Intergalactic representatives who might take exception to Cory's ideas concerning royalty, and the last thing we need is to start an Interstellar war...not after all the finagling I had to do to negotiate with Invader, the Oni King, whose daughter is attending as a Junior Transfer student."
"Isn't she the one who wants to marry that nice Moroboshi boy that I read about in the papers?" Garimel asked.
"The same," Chakar nodded, "I met the kid...thick as brick with a sex drive in the triple digits. Don't ask me why but those two seem to be hitting it off, in spite of a lot of interference they keep running into."
"Quagmire sounds promising," Garimel stroked her elfin chin with an amused expression, "Of course I hear the place has gained the nick-name of 'Ninja High School,' which makes it sound appropriate for an up-and-coming Kunoichi."
"Too bad it's also got a visiting VIP from the Friesian Trade Confederacy, so it's also a no-go," Chakar sighed, "So what can you tell us about this Furinkan High School?"
"Only that it seems to be alien-free at the moment, Boss," Crystal replied, "Near as I know that makes it almost unique among the schools of the Tokyo area. Less chance of starting a war if you enroll Cory as a Canadian exchange student."
"Good idea," Garimel nodded, "I seriously doubt Japan would declare war on Canada, no matter what mischief our daughter gets into."
"I think I'll visit the place just to make certain," Chakar remarked with a thoughtful expression, "Hold the fort down here until I get back, Gari."
"I'll see to it Corinella is waiting in her room when you ask to see her, Dear," Garimel replied as Chakar stood up and smiled, then vanished into a swirl of shadows.
"Good luck, Boss," Crystal softly murmured as she and her Ladyship stared at the space where the Lord of House Greystar had formerly been standing, adding in an undertone, "I think we're all gonna need it..."
Chakar appeared within the Nerima ward and immediately shifted his appearance to that more consistent with a foreign tourist, only without the Hawaiian shirt and Bermuda shorts. He scanned the area where his Starstone had transported him then nodded to himself, convinced that his arrival had gone relatively undetected.
Japan, he mused, mentally adjusting himself to the culture and customs that he had learned long ago during his earliest visit over a thousand years ago in the province of Edo. It had been only a couple of years since his last most recent visit, but every time he stopped by he saw the gradual changes slowly overtaking a civilization that he regarded as a second homeland. The roots he had laid here ran deep and in his three thousand years of life he often liked found himself returning time and again to renew those ties and see them strengthened. He had been away too long this time, mostly running errands for the Starlord High Council, such as his brief diversion dealing with those space raiders. It was time to look up old haunts, visit old friends and see which of them were still among the living.
But first he had a more personal matter to attend. Corinella had been growing more restless of late, more unpredictable and rebellious, and with someone who was descended from a long line of Atlantean mages and martial artists this could have potentially dangerous consequences further down the line. At heart Corinella was a good kid, honest and hard working, but her penchant for unpredictable-even chaotic behavior-made her eventual assumption to the Rosestar Starstone a very troubling issue, and one that had the potential of alarming certain members of the High Council. Finding a place that could actually put up with her shenanigans was only half of the problem, the other half would be convincing his fellow Starlords that she could be a productive member of their society and not a liability, and in the latter case...well, it simply did not bear thinking.
Unfortunately all of the private academies and public schools that he and Garimel had tried enrolling her into had proven to be disasters just waiting to happen. Corinella had no respect for any other authority than that of her parents, and even there she could be subtle in her rebellion. Pretentious arrogance and pompousness just brought out the worst that was in her nature, so placing her in an environment that encouraged a formal academic training was like tossing a match in a powder keg. Corinella could not help but see a person who took themselves too seriously and she would dedicate herself to seeing that the bubble that was their ego soon got burst. Simply restricting her power levels had proven ineffective in limiting the extent of the damage for Corinella was quite brilliant when it came to whipping up a prank from virtually nothing. So...just what kind of an environment did Crystal believe could tolerate a Ninja-trained sorceress with Starlord potential?
Deciding he would have to find out the hard way, he sought out this Furinkan High School, walked onto the school grounds and promptly found himself in the middle of a war-zone.
"RANMA, FOR OFFENDING AKANE, YOU DIE!"
"RANMA, YOU PERVERT! GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF HER THIS INSTANT!"
"RANMA, FOR WHAT YOU HAVE JUST DONE TO SHAMPOO PREPARE TO DIE!"
"SWEETO!"
"Stop this at once, you Delinquents!"
"RANMA-SAMA!"
"RANCHAN!"
"AIREN!"
"JUST YOU WAIT, SAOTOME!"
"I'M TELLING YA I DIDN'T DO NOTHIN'!"
Chakar stood where he was surrounded by absolute pandemonium with several students either yelling, fighting or chasing after one pig-tailed by wearing a red Chinese shirt. Said boy was fighting tooth and nail to dodge a spinning umbrella, a set of throwing knives, an oversized mallet, a baker's bread peal, a red ribbon, a young girl waving a coin in the air and another girl with lavender colored hair who was waving a set of Chinese bonbori in his direction. The boy displayed an amazing degree of agility, speed, dexterity and raw prowess in avoiding all of these perils, and some shorthaired girl waving a book ledger in his direction. As if this were not bizarre enough a man wearing a Hawaiian shirt, Bermuda shorts and sporting a small palm tree that appeared to be growing out of his head showed up and joined in with the chase, waving a comb and a pair of scissors at the pig-tailed boy while another boy wielding a bokken showed up and issued a challenge, which same was promptly met with a foot to the face by the first boy.
While this was going on normal school business was obviously on hold as the rest of the student body either watched this chase go on or went about their business as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Only when the boy had successfully made his escape from the yard did another fight break out, this time among the ladies who had been engaging in the chase, while three of the boys found themselves in a quarrel with one another.
"Can I help you, sir?" a voice asked, directing Chakar's attention to the person of an old man wearing the uniform of a groundskeeper.
It took Chakar a few seconds to place the man's face but then he smiled and said, "Harun-san? Is that you?"
"You were expecting maybe Pat Morita?" the old man's eyes twinkled with merriment, "I wasn't sure if it was you myself, Charlie. It's been a decade at least! How have they been treating you in the Lord High Executioner business?"
"Ah, you know how it is," Chakar shrugged, "Business is up, so they keep me pretty busy. A lot of would-be world beaters and universal tyrants out there keep encroaching on our turf, so who are they gonna call but the exterminator?"
"Such a shame," the old man replied, "You need more time to sit down and smell the Cherry Blossoms. I still have that Bonsai tree you gave me during the Occupation, helps calm me down when the stress starts to get to me. You need a less stressful hobby than having to kill people, you know that?"
"Could be," Chakar replied, nodding over to where the fight had just concluded, "What was that all about anyway?"
"Who, Saotome?" the old man shrugged, "He's a local legend, a real up-and-coming star, not like most of these snot nosed punks always after him for one reason or another..."
"Saotome?" Chakar made a connection, "You don't mean...?"
"Afraid so," Harun replied, "He's Genma's boy, much though he likes to pretend that he was adopted. The genuine article when it comes to raw talent, and he's had some pretty advantaged training for his age. Kind of reminds me a bit of you, especially the way he gets along with the ladies."
"Surely not," Chakar winced and instantly felt pity for the young man with the pig tail.
"By the way," Harun asked hesitantly, "Are you still with...?"
"The 'psychotic homicidal bitch' who was originally out to kill me?" Chakar smiled, "Thirty years now and still married. She's mellowed out a lot over the past few decades, no doubt being out from under the influence of her mother helped a lot. Give her time, though...she's only six hundred and seventy-three, I'm sure she'll mature eventually into a lady worthy of your high standards."
"Guess you'd know better than me," Harun shrugged, "You always were the one who liked to live dangerous."
"So...Saotome had a son and he's turned out to be a regular chip off the old block," Chakar mused, "Sounds ominous. But what's with all those others out to get him?"
"Mostly rivals and fiancees," Harun replied, "The young girl is one of the teachers, though, and the maniac with the pineapple growing out of his head is Principal Kuno, and no I'm not pulling your leg about that."
"You're serious?" Chakar eyed the man (whom he could still remember as a dirty-
faced urchin scraping for food in the bombed out ruins of Tokyo) with clear skepticism, but he knew Harun too well not to see that the man was on the level, "Are you telling me the school administration not only allows something like this to go down on school grounds but they even participate in the melee?"
"Got it in one," the groundkeeper nodded, "Most folks around here have enough smarts to keep out of the way, and it's my job to supervise the cleanup after it's all over. Not exactly the way I planned on spending my retirement, but it's steady work and there you have it."
"Interesting," Chakar adopted a look that Harun well knew as coolly calculating, a lupine expression that well befit the Lord of the House of the Wolf, followed by the more ominous side note as the Grey Lord added in soft undertone, "Perfect..."
Continued.
Comments/Criticisms/Self-Inserted Wish Fulfillment: shadowmane
If I choose to pick this up again, then Otaka beware, for here comes CORINELLA! (Be there!)
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