One last outpost remained – a shambolic ruin, this night – on the eastern slope of Mount Kurodake. Banners bearing the spider still caught and twisted in the winter wind, but they flew among the charred boards and toppled towers of a place forgotten. In this quiet space before dawn, not a single torch flickered; not so much as a match illuminated the frigid bones of the Spider Clan outpost.

Hayabusa still approached its crumbled walls with caution. The MIST agent could be around any corner, hiding in any shadow. Tracking her here had been no easy feat, and that effort could be wasted with a single misplaced step. Ryu paused at the half-collapsed threshold to the remains of a tower, listening for a breath amid the wind, searching for the acrid smell of poison on the air.

He remembered Kasumi's words, at the spring near Fukakusa. Her voice barely louder than the trickle of water, she had told Ryu that she couldn't rest, that the white-haired demon from MIST had pursued her, even after her defeat in the halls of DOATEC. So rarely had Kasumi even suggested a need for help, and so the dragon ninja had spent the past month in search of this threat, hunting the hunter.

Ryu gave a single nod to himself; there among the scent of char and snow was a distinct bitterness, a foulness left in the agent's wake. Christie had arrived at the outpost on this night, and had taken her poisons with her.

Ducking under a fallen beam, Ryu crossed into the tower, where the snowdrifts thinned over wooden boards, and the gusts of icy wind were dulled to drafts. Green eyes roamed for movement, catching on every flicker and shift in the layers of darkness.

A remnant banner fluttered in a lone window. A piece of snow dropped from the patchwork of roof tiles above. And then…the gleam of a dagger arrived at his throat.

A breath behind him came uncannily cold. "You are not the only one who works in shadows."

Ryu did not respond, only ducked away, kicking at the form behind him. He rolled to his feet on the cold floorboards, finding a solid stance over the creaking wood. The figure he turned to face was already charging in to close the distance a second time. In the faint light of the sunless early morning, he could see her: Christie, a hooded coat over her frost-white hair. Her knife flashed forward – the metal glinted eerily red, treated with some bright-hued salt – and Ryu repelled the offending arm with a heavy swipe, lunging in to land a knee beneath her ribs. The MIST agent toppled backward through the open doorway, landing in the snow. Her dagger left a crimson smear in its wake.

"You will not trouble the Mugen Tenshin clan again." Hayabusa steadied himself, drawing his arms together as he observed his enemy. Christie seemed to struggle as her heeled boots sought purchase on the snow. But just as she appeared to stumble, fingers like frigid lightening drew another knife and launched it, striking Ryu's arm an instant before he moved.

"You really think I'm so incompetent?" Fury smoldered in her voice, followed by a sharp, derisive laugh. "Spill the blood of a dragon ninja, and the fiends will rise like strangler vines – so generously watered to take root."

He could feel it in the pause following her voice – his own blood dripping down his arm, soaking into the floor of the ruined outpost. The knife, though too small to maim, had lodged itself in his bicep, and bore the same red tint, its metal steeped in an unknown chemical.

"You mean to summon a fiend." Ryu scowled from behind his mask, drawing the Dragon Sword.

"I mean to awaken what you put to rest here," the assassin answered. "The men who died hating you. The spirit of the Spider Clan, twisted beyond recognition. You deserve nothing less for meddling with me."

The floorboards rattled, shifting, not under the pressure of footsteps or wind, but from a force beneath. Hayabusa took a step back, green eyes wide in surprise as the entire tower began to shake. In one powerful lunge, he vaulted outside through the window. Only seconds later, the tower cracked open and fell away, stones and tiles tumbling into the snow. As it buckled, a new figure arose, alive, and bristling with claws. Its entire body rattled with the bones of dozens of fallen ninja, tatters of spider robes caught between countless sharp edges and joints. Ryu could hardly recognize it as a body at all; it was a writhing mass, one he resolved to slice apart.

Bracing for an instant, boots firm against the snow, Ryu drew back his blade. Then he lunged – cleaving, annihilating, obliterating.

From the edge of the forest, cold blue eyes observed the fight. Bayman crouched in the snow, a scoped rifle carefully pressed to one shoulder. Through its lens, he could see the monstrous amalgam of bones that had risen from the old tower, and the dragon ninja striking at it, blow after gleaming silver blow. But as the deadly exchange raged on, he let his sights drift elsewhere, seeking the woman who still served Donovan. If she wished to escape, he would intercept her. If she wished to thwart the ninja, he would thwart her in kind. But Bayman resolved that it would be him to put the viper down.

Myriad bones clattered over the ruins, sinking into the snow. The dragon ninja – Hayabusa, he recalled – ripped an offending skull from where it had clamped around his neck, then struck down a hundred skeletal limbs in a gout of fire that set the snowy mountainside glowing. Bayman squinted through his scope, redirecting his aim to the shadows. There, behind the cracked remains of a well, he spotted a sliver of white hair. As expected, Christie was well hidden, waiting to strike. A set of jagged knives glinted between her fingers, and with a gloved hand she smeared a crimson salt into the well-oiled metal.

Bayman remembered that toxin – one of her favorites – and how it had reduced Donovan's enemies to corpses in a matter of seconds. "Sayonara," she had whispered, a sneer on her lips, as Helena's best guards had seized and died in seconds.

Just as he aligned his sights with that shock of hair, something landed in the snow between them. Jerking back to look past the scope, Bayman saw that Hayabusa had rolled to a stop in the clearing between the outpost and forest, splattering the snow with blood. A twitch as he coughed, leaving a puff of steam in the dark air, and then he was on his feet again, sword raised with even greater resolve.

Bayman refocused through the scope, but Christie was already gone. He grit his teeth, sweeping the ruins with precise motions. The assassin was missing, but the intense fighting seemed to be drawing to a close. With one last brutal flourish, the dragon ninja settled atop a hill of pulverized bones, the fiend dispelled. There was an awkward sway in the ninja's stance, and Bayman could see dark drops of blood falling from him, smears of it staining his hands. Protruding from his arm was the poisoned blade Christie had struck him with, still embedded.

Distant movement caught Bayman's eye, and he immediately shifted the scope to examine it. Across the clearing, he saw Christie, dashing among the snow-laden pines in her hooded coat. His finger settled on the trigger, ready to place a shot in the instant that she might flit between the trees. Just as she emerged, a flurry of leaves appeared beside her, and then Hayabusa launched her into the snow with a single kick.

His voice echoed over the clearing, and Bayman heard every word. "Yield now, assassin." The sword was held at Christie's throat. She was still sitting in the snow, white teeth bared in a furious grimace.

"You won't kill me." There was always a mean edge to her well-practiced Japanese. "You might have been quick enough before, but you won't manage it now…"

"Be still." A terse demand from the ninja. "Yield, and you might live."

Bayman considered taking the shot while Christie was down, but he would risk hitting the ninja instead, with the two of them so close together. Then the assassin kicked at the blade, scrambling to her feet, and what little opportunity Bayman had was gone.

"How about another dose?" Christie hurled one of her knives, and Hayabusa deflected it into the snow. A second was swiped aside, but with the third, she at last struck her target in his chest. The ninja reeled for a moment, and Christie closed in. With his free arm, he raised a kunai to her throat, holding her barely at bay.

"Just one of my knives carries enough poison to kill a dozen men," she snarled. "If you have a heart, dragon ninja, it can be stopped."

"Yield!" Louder this time, echoing over the forest. The ninja pressed his blade into her skin. "Give up, or die here."

Again, Christie ducked away, ripping the knife from her enemy's chest, then driving it back into his stomach. He regained his hold on her just as she turned her back to run, discarding his sword to seize her and pull her in. In an instant, the kunai was under her chin, drawing blood but not quite sinking deep.

"You do not have to die."

"What a hero." Christie laughed, even against the blade that cut her skin. "You stupid man. Killing yourself to save your enemy." Wriggling an arm free, she ripped another knife from her coat, sank it into his thigh, and twisted, driving it deeper. Bayman heard the ninja shout in pain for the first time.

"So…be it."

Hayabusa drew his kunai from one end of Christie's jaw to the other. Gargling screams died in her throat as a spray of blood coated the snow. She collapsed forward, and was still. Above her, the ninja puffed shallow breaths through his cloth mask, stumbling onto one knee. He steadied himself, bringing his hands together over the body of the assassin. From his distant vantage point, Bayman could hear a few mumbled words, but missed their meaning.

Coughing again, the ninja took back his sword and sheathed it. With stiff, painful movements, he stood. Bayman saw him reach for the knife embedded in his leg, pulling at it with shaking fingers. Eyes squeezed shut, he let the knife go, idly wiping his bloodied hand on the leg of his suit. The blade remained stuck in his flesh, its poisons undoubtedly spreading.

From behind his scope, Bayman shook his head. No proper soldier would let themselves be poisoned. Hayabusa was a fool if he thought he could walk off a hundredfold dose of nipride.

Bayman saw the shaking figure bring his hands together at his chest; a slow, steadying motion that appeared to steel his damaged nerves. Of course – just as his Mugen Tenshin associates, the dragon ninja was a backwards fanatic to the bitter end. To these recluses, willpower and prayer was the solution to every obstacle, no matter how deadly. Bayman couldn't deny some of the results – the monstrous fiend reduced to a charred pile of scraps, for one – but he knew there were some things that magic couldn't fix.

Amid the rumble of freezing wind, Bayman noticed the distant whirr of helicopter blades. He looked up with narrowed eyes, then with his scope, searching every open patch of sky for movement. Nothing could yet be seen, but the sound of its approach was unmistakable. Bayman redirected his rifle to see if Hayabusa had noticed as well.

Surprisingly, the ninja hadn't moved from his place above Christie's body. Bayman saw something in his hand: a file, smeared with melted snow and flecks of blood. Hayabusa opened it, reading the single page contained inside. Bayman tried to align his scope perfectly with the text, to analyze what secrets the MIST agent might have been carrying. The fine print was illegible at this range, but in one corner or the page, Bayman could barely identify two words.

OPERATION: PURITY

He tried to read further, squinting into his scope, but then a bright light made him recoil, and he realized that the ninja had set fire to the paper. The file fell to the snow-covered ground, its burning contents blackening and curling into ash. Bayman felt a frustrated growl building in his throat, and he finally stood from his hiding place. The information on that page was now in the ninja's head, and Bayman would not let it escape him.

The droning of the helicopter had finally built to a roar, and a light flashed over the clearing, making him hesitate to move. Snow was blown from the quivering trees as the helicopter hovered closely over the ruined outpost. A long rope fell from its doors, and a single man descended it, wearing a familiar tactical suit and armor. Even at this distance, in the dim light of dawn, Bayman recognized the gear as identical to what he had worn on his missions for Donovan. Clearly the old megalomaniac had hired a replacement for him.

The unknown agent stepped into the clearing, and Bayman watched as the dragon ninja appeared before him, stray leaves falling about his feet as he materialized. Above them, the helicopter turned and retreated into the sky.

"Donovan's assassin is dead," Hayabusa declared. "Abandon MIST, or your fate will be the same as hers." Bayman could hear a breathlessness in his tone, could see that he still leaned barely off balance in the aftermath of Christie's attacks. The agent seemed to notice this, too; he didn't respond, only walked forward. Bayman began to recognize the stance, searching his memory for its origin.

"I gave her many chances to surrender. I will give you none." The ninja's voice built up to an aggressive tenor as he raised his fists to fight.

The enemy finally replied. "She's done her work on you. Not much left of you to fight."

Bayman reeled. The voice was unmistakable. Leon had returned from some far-flung corner of the world, and had fallen under MIST's influence. But when? And why? A hundred questions buzzed in Bayman's mind as he watched his fellow mercenary advance on the wounded ninja.

"I'll drag you back to Donovan."

Leon cocked back his arm to punch, but even impaired as he was, the ninja still caught the incoming strike and threw his enemy off balance. With Leon stumbling in the snow, Bayman adjusted his sights, considering once again whether to finally place a shot. He couldn't lose the information that Hayabusa had learned, but with a frustrated sigh, he realized that he wasn't willing to lose Leon, either. There was so much he didn't know…

The mercenary righted himself and launched into a battery of blows. For his part, the ninja blocked and deflected every move, but then Leon closed the remaining distance between them, and seized him around his throat. Bayman watched as Hayabusa attempted to break the hold, slamming on Leon's arms with not-quite-sufficient force. He was lifted off his feet, straining against the crushing grip that had stopped his breath.

"As I thought. Nothing left…"

Leon's words were cut short as the ninja struck his diaphragm with a bruising kick, finally breaking free. Barely on his feet, he landed a vicious punch to Leon's nose, swiped away an incoming arm, and finished with an open strike that hit with an audible crack. Leon stumbled backward, clutching at his shoulder, where something had fractured. Seeing his guard compromised, the ninja rushed in one more time with a kick that sent the mercenary falling back headfirst into the snow.

As Leon struggled to sit up, the dragon ninja stepped away, visibly trembling. Blood still dripped from his numerous injuries, and as Leon stood, he was sinking back onto one knee, breathing hard through his mask.

"Stay…away from me…"

The mercenary failed to listen, charging forward and tackling the ninja into the ground. Bayman watched as they fought, limbs tangling together, their fury kicking up tufts of snow and dirt. As the ninja lashed out with another kunai, Leon caught his arm, twisting the shoulder out of place with one brutal lurch. The blade dropped, and the ninja finally kicked his enemy away, rolling backward into an unsteady crouch.

Still undaunted, Leon made to charge again. But then Hayabusa tore one of Christie's knives from his arm, sending its bloodied edge spinning out in Leon's direction. Immediately, the mercenary ducked to avoid the poisoned weapon, and hesitated to move further, his cold eyes focused singularly forward, waiting for a similar attack. Seeing his enemy pause, the ninja raised one shaking hand in silent focus, and vanished from the clearing in an instant.

"Run all you like!" Leon bellowed out at the forest. "I won't fail."

Bayman kept his distance, watching in incredulous silence. What had driven Leon to work for MIST? His conviction, his aggression – it was all so familiar, but Bayman had never known Leon to act this way on behalf of anyone but himself. As a mercenary, he had been a cold professional, not a shred of emotion shown in his work. But when trying to prove himself, to live up to those words whispered over the sand to him years ago…then Leon had shown this fire.

Bayman knew at that moment, that MIST had manipulated him. Leon had been promised something. Power, a title, something significant. It showed in the way the mercenary's eyes darted over the forest, the way he sneered as he held up the fallen kunai.

As Leon approached the edge of the forest and began his search, Bayman finally moved, retreating deeper up the mountainside, into the dark shadows cast by the pines. With the occasional use of his scope, he watched down on Leon's progress from a remote point, noting an intensity in the curve of the mercenary's shoulders, an almost desperate keenness in his gaze.

Bayman continued to move through the trees, increasing his distance from the mercenary. There was an opportunity here, he recognized: to find the ninja and escape with him before Leon could catch up. If he could learn the contents of that burned file – without having to kill his fellow mercenary to accomplish it – he would finally be one step ahead of MIST. And Leon might still be reasoned with later…

Distant movement broke Bayman's concentration. Adjusting his scope, he peered through the shadowy forest, and at last discovered a bright smear of blood among the drifts of snow. With silent, deliberate steps, he approached until the crouched form in the distance was clearly visible.

Hayabusa had settled behind a large tree, his back to its trunk. His breathing came shallow and sharp, and as he unsteadily pulled away the mask over his face, Bayman could see an unnatural flush on his skin, one that recalled instantly the appearance of Christie's past victims.

Clumsily, and breathing harder than ever, the ninja grabbed at the knife in his thigh again. As the jagged blade began to pull free, he covered his mouth to muffle a groan, eyes tightly shut. Bayman focused on the wound, and noted that the blood-flow seemed manageable – a helpful side-effect of the otherwise deadly toxins.

With one last effort, boots scraping and digging against the snow, the ninja pulled the blade free, then tossed it aside, covering the open wound with both hands. Bayman considered closing in while the ninja was distracted, but he had lost sight of Leon, and wasn't willing to risk being caught off guard. He swept the forest with his scope. The snowy trees were still, and silence hung in the air. Bayman knew that Leon hadn't given up; not with that edge in his voice, the desperation he had seen. Somewhere out amid the pines, MIST's newest agent was still hunting for his target.

The ninja had sunk lower against the tree, his head barely upright. Blood-smeared fingers worked at the blade protruding from his stomach, trying to pull it free. Even at a cautious distance, Bayman could still faintly hear his labored breaths, and wondered: for how long could the infamous dragon ninja persevere?

Bayman had his answer, as the ninja's fingers suddenly tensed around the exposed blade, ripping it free with more force than intended. His grip on its biting edges was far too tight, and fresh blood spilled from his hand, yet he couldn't seem to let the blade go. With an awkward shudder, he collapsed sideways on the ground, and as the seizurogenic poisons finally took hold, his entire body shook.

Reconsidering his options, Bayman renewed his search for any sign of Leon. Carrying a seizing body would be difficult at best, but it might still prove easier than waiting for Leon to catch up. As he mulled over the choice, he at last spotted Leon's tall figure weaving through the trees, just a looming shadow at such a great distance, but growing closer. Bayman found himself positioned between the two, with Leon downhill, peering over every boulder and tree, and the ninja on level ground ahead, still senseless and kicking at nothing, unable to even hide from the approaching agent. Bayman knew that his own presence wouldn't be detected – he had played these sorts of games against MIST's finest before, and never lost – but Leon would surely spot the ninja in a matter of minutes, if not sooner.

Bayman focused on the twitching body in his sights, trying to judge the time it might take for the seizure to pass. Any normal man's heart would have stopped long ago, but the dragon ninja was not invulnerable, either. Bayman could see that his face was pressed into the snow, and realized that even if the seizure was brief, suffocation could quickly take him.

No more time for observation. Lowering his rifle, Bayman searched the ground for a stone, retrieving one that fit his palm snugly. Peering down the mountainside, he chose his target – one tree among a hundred – and hurled the rock at its trunk. The impact echoed through the forest, and loosened layers of snow from the tree's branches. Bayman raised his scope to watch as the distant figure of Leon turned to approach the tree, heavy boots crunching over the snow.

A soft gasp made Bayman move his sights to the ninja. Hayabusa had managed to lift his head, but convulsions still tugged at him like puppet strings. With a wince, Bayman noticed that Christie's knife was still clenched in his hand. Blood seeped from between taut fingers.

Looking back one last time, Bayman could see that Leon was more distant than ever, continuing his search in the wrong direction. Finally, Bayman had the opportunity he wanted. His focus sharpened as he resolved to act. Maintaining a silent gait over the snow, he moved from one point to the next, grateful for the cover of the trees. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and approached the ninja, noting that the convulsions seemed to lose their intensity. Standing over him at this range, without the need of his scope, Bayman couldn't help but notice the numerous bloody injuries that the ninja, this wild fighter, had collected in the course of an hour.

When he finally fell still, Bayman stooped to support Hayabusa's neck and shoulders with a firm arm, sitting him partially upright. A ragged groan took half-shape as the ninja struggled to open his eyes.

"Haya…te…"

"Keep quiet," Bayman warned in his accented Japanese, and suddenly there was a blade pointed up at him, held in a shaking, blood-soaked hand. Hayabusa had one kunai remaining, and struggled to lift it in anything resembling a threat. Two of his fingers stuck out awkwardly, unable to grip the handle, and Bayman considered that the tendons may have been destroyed. Shaking his head, he batted the kunai away, letting it fall harmlessly to the ground. Defeated, the ninja let his arm drop. Failing to speak, he coughed once, blood dripping from a bitten tongue.

"You won't die here." With another arm under his legs, Bayman lifted the ninja off the ground, surprised at the intense heat that seemed to radiate from him, even after minutes spent lying in the snow.

"What…happened…" The ninja's eyes had already drifted shut, and he mumbled with less and less coherence as Bayman carried him through the forest. A bit of morning light filtered down through the trees, making each of his steps through the snow marginally easier. He took a careful route away from the outpost, and away from Leon, and finally approached the dirt path where his car was waiting. Built for power, the off-road SUV had done well climbing the mountain, although it proved almost too wide for some of the narrower turns. A thin layer of snow had settled over it in the time Bayman had spent scouting the mountainside. Taking a moment to peer down both directions of the path, he caught no sign of Leon.

"My heart…" The voice was barely audible, and Hayabusa was barely conscious.

Bayman frowned, doing his best to parse the words. He settled Hayabusa against the side of the car, then retrieved his keys and pulled open the back door. Before lifting him into the car, Bayman paused, crouching down and taking a moment to feel the ninja's pulse. He pulled away the black scarf, pressing his fingers to skin that almost burned. The rapid intensity of his heartbeat was such a surprise that Bayman hesitated a moment longer, trying to be certain that what he felt was real. His eyes narrowed as he tried to guess the outcome; would the ninja stabilize, or would his heart simply give out?

Still frowning, he laid Hayabusa across the back seats, then shut the door, smearing it with blood. The whole car would need to be cleaned, he supposed with a sigh. Driving down the cliffside paths wouldn't be easy in this weather, but once he was back on a proper road, it would be a short trip to Kofu, where his temporary flat was waiting. Bayman tried to remember if he'd raided his medical supplies there recently, or if everything he needed would be waiting.

The glint of headlights from far down the trail made him jump. Bayman could see them getting brighter, and finally heard the rumble of the engine over the mountainside wind. With haste, he rounded the car and slid into the driver's seat, starting it with swift, automatic movements. The six-cylinder engine rumbled to life, and as he turned the car downhill, he drew his sidearm – a simple handgun from his home country – watching that unfamiliar pair of headlights intently.

The engine of the unknown car revved, straining to speed up the hill. Squinting over the glare of lights, Bayman recognized the car as Christie's – a souped-up roadster that had no business on a rural trail. Behind the wheel, he saw his fellow mercenary's face; Leon had been ready to intercept him, and scowled through the windshield with a focused fury that promised a difficult fight ahead.

The SUV picked up speed as it descended the snowy ground. Bayman could see that Leon was already swerving to hit him head on, and so he swerved further, aiming for the very edges where the path gave way to cliffs. The tires spun for purchase over the uneven rocks and ice, but as Bayman wrestled with the wheel, he controlled the turn and carved a fine path between Leon's car and the treacherous mountainside. As one driver's window passed the other, Bayman raised his gun, and considered firing, but the familiarity of the other mercenary made him halt. There were many questions to be answered, he realized, before deciding on Leon's fate.

Clearly, Leon was ready to decide his; Christie's car turned sharply to follow Bayman downhill, barreling over the snowy path with almost desperate speed. Bayman immediately accelerated, bracing for a winding turn that might send him off the cliffs. As his wheels traced the ragged edge of the path, he heard a thump; the ninja's body had fallen from the seats to the floor. A glance over his shoulder, and Bayman could see that he was shaking again, nerves destroyed by poison.

"Don't die yet." A terse growl, as Bayman righted his car over the steep, winding trail, then flattened the gas pedal. Behind him, Leon pivoted and swerved, nearly plowing over the edge himself, and the roadster's engine squealed as it fully accelerated. In seconds, Leon had closed the distance, and rounded headlights shattered as his vehicle slammed into the rear bumper of Bayman's SUV. Both began to skid; gritting his teeth, Bayman braked and turned his car back on course, kicking up rocks and roots under the snow.

A patch of straightened trail waited ahead. Seeing it as an opportunity, Bayman lowered his window and leaned outside. Turning back to face the car behind him, he fired at its wheels, but its low frame absorbed the shots. Through the windshield, he could barely see Leon's face, and its expression…a smile?

Bayman could picture that same face in another place and time: the tournament. That cold smile did nothing to dispel the fury in his low brows, his burning eyes. He had seen it for an instant when Leon had taunted him, when he had clenched his weathered fists and said, "I can't believe you're still alive."

Returning to the driver's seat and barreling down the trail, Bayman supposed he could say the same. Neither of them should still be playing at this game, with the risks they'd taken, the things they'd done. Maybe, he thought, that would finally change here, with their goals at odds.

In spite of his breakneck speed, the roadster surged to catch him. At a slightly wider bend in the path, its nose crept up to the side of the SUV, then scraped and ground against it. Bayman knew that being pitted would send him spinning down into a snowy ravine, and so he turned sharply away from the roadster, trying to lever his back wheels into place. The grinding between the vehicles sent up a flare of sparks and a shriek of metal friction, and then Bayman had finally pushed the roadster off course. Its screaming engine at full power, it roared over the edge of the path, punching nose-first into the trunk of a pine and stopping dead. Bayman had evaded it, but now he was driving off course as well, weaving through trees on a perilous slope. He could feel the car beginning to tip, and forced it to accelerate, keeping it upright through sheer momentum. At last, he saw a glimpse of a fresh bend in the path, and with one last sharp turn, the SUV rumbled over a tangle of roots and emerged onto flatter ground.

Breathing out, Bayman lessened his speed, and continued the long descent down Mount Kurodake.