Prologue

Carnage. Massacre. Words evoking images of corpse strewn battlefields and drying vicera spilled upon blood flecked concrete floors. Images that can cause even the most jaded individuals to evict their latest meal and deposit it upon the ground.

During the Knight War, these words and images became little more than sweet nothings and cotton candy, paling in comparison to the cruelty and brutality that over swept and laid claim to even the most tranquil regions, turning them into killing fields.

Though rare, there are still those alive who can vividly recall the violent warfare even through the fog that age has placed in their minds. Mental photographs of Knights viciously attacking each other, one hand gripping whatever happened to be nearby in an effort to replace their lost or ruined weapons, the other hand desperately trying to hold their slashed and tattered intestines inside of their bodies, strikes becoming even more powerful and savage as they slowly died, pushed on by little more than fear, anger and adrenaline.

In the ten, sanguineous years that the war lasted, countless thousands lost their lives. Knights sent to untimely and horrifically violent ends. Innocents, in the wrong place at the wrong time, forever imbedding a deep hatred for Knights upon their clans. It became known as the single greatest and most needlessly wasteful blunder in recorded Knight history. In the end, there was never a definite victor. Rogues had been culled out, but still remained an ever present and dangerous threat. Knights, though having defended many innocent lives from destruction, suffered such exceptional losses that they might as well have suffered a defeat. Even the newly risen Shadow Hawke, the legendary Knight Slayer, could only hope that by training more Slayers, a second war could be postponed as long as possible.

These events came to pass nearly one hundred years ago. Thus far, a second war has yet to occur, but it is exactly this reason for which many Knights, Rogues, and Slayers are terrified beyond belief. And while they continue their daily lives as much as possible, they constantly wonder if an event equally grand is threatening to spring upon them when they are least able to defend themselves.

"Ow!" Trevor was rudely awakened with a slap to the face. "Shit, what the hell was that for?" he demanded. 

"The flight is over sir," the ermine stated, "You have to get off the shuttle now." 

"....oh....couldn't you have just tapped me?" Trevor asked the woman. 

"No. The guy next to you was being a jerk," she replied. Trevor looked at her for a moment or two, and then thanked her for the wake up, grabbed his bag, and left.

The change in atmosphere from the bleak shuttle cabin the the inside of a terminal was like a flash bulb exploding. It was easily three times as bright, full of people, and noisy. Trevor squinted in the now blinding light. Quickly going to the baggage claim (and having since acquired luggage), he grabbed his suitcase and immediately went to customs. With the aid of some falsified documents, he made it through and immediately hailed a cab. Tossing his suitcase and duffel bag inside, he climbed in, fighting off sleep. Looking outside, he realized it was only the middle of the day. The cabbie said something he didn't understand, and Trevor informed him that he didn't understand, which was, in turn, not understood. After a few minutes, Trevor managed to get out that he wanted to go to the smallest, cheapest motel within fifteen minutes of travel. One hour later, he stood on the door step of the biggest, most expensive looking hotel he had ever seen.

"Oh...fuck..." Trevor said in disbelief. Too tired to care anymore, Trevor stumbled up the stairs and into the lobby. When he saw the massiveness of it, he had a better idea of exactly what it was going to cost him. "Shit..." he said, shaking his head. Accompanied by stares all the way, he walked to the front desk. The leopard staffing the desk looked at him, waiting for him to begin. "I need a room," Trevor said. 

"I see," the leopard replied in a heavily accented voice, "Would you like a suite?" 

Trevor thought about it. "Sure, alright," he said. 

"And...would you like the executive or presidential suite? The penthouse, perhaps?" He was obviously playing a little game, which Trevor did not have the patience for at the moment.

"Look, you little bitch, I have been having a really rough week. Just give me the most lavish and expensive room that your have, and then I will pay for it, in cash, and give one thousand credits if you shut up. You're giving me a headache." 

The deskman seemed slightly stunned at Trevor's outburst, and even slightly afraid, but did his job. "In that case," he began, more nervous than he had ever been before, "Your stay will come to two thousand, five hundred credits a night. How long will you be staying?" 

Trevor sighed heavily. "Fuck, I don't know. Just bill me for everything when I check out, ok?" he replied.

"Very well, sir," the deskman said, "Here is your key. Just show it to the operator in the lift, and you will be taken directly to your room. Please enjoy your stay." 

"Yea...thanks," Trevor said, turning to leave until the deskman cleared his throat. "Oh, right. About that..." Trevor instantly had the leopard halfway over the desk, gripping him by the front of his jacket, "How about I keep the thousand, and you send up a glass of ice water in about five minutes. And if you watch your mouth around me, then maybe I won't play 'Dentist' with you. Capíce?" 

"Y-yes sir. Wo..would you like an asprin with you ice water, sir?" the leopard stuttered. 

"Yes," Trevor responded, setting him back down, "I would like that." He pulled out his wallet and gave the deskman a one hundred credit note. "Thank you very much."

Picking up his suitcase again, Trevor walked to the elevator, greeted by a bellhop. "May I take your luggage, sir?" she asked. 

"Naw, I'm good, but thanks for offering," he said before turning around to face her, "On second thought, yes, knock yourself out." The petite rabbit smiled and took his suitcase, obviously hoping for a tip. Trevor could tell by her body language and overall attitude that she had not been working here long. The elevator was old fashioned, and even had an operator, another rabbit, male this time, who looked a lot like the bellhop. Showing the operator his key, they were quickly underway, although Trevor rolled his eyes when he saw that there were one hundred eight floors to climb.

Several moments passed, and Trevor let out a deep breath, bored witless. "So, uh," he started, turning to the elevator operator, "What's your name?" 

It took a few moments for the words to register, the operator obviously not used to anyone, especially those on the 108th floor, talking to him. "Oh, uh, Reuben," he said finally. His accent made him very clearly Lylatian. 

"Well, it's nice to meet you Reuben," Trevor said, extending his paw. The rabbit was confused once again, but finally caught on and shook it. 

"It's nice to meet you too, sir," he replied, smiling now. Apparently, that small little greeting really brightened his day. 

"And what about you? What's your name?" he asked the bellhop. 

"I'm Samantha," she said, switching the suitcase to her left paw and extending her right, which Trevor promptly shook. 

"A pleasure to meet you, Samantha," he said.

"And what of you?" Samantha asked him. 

"Yes, what shall we call you, sir?" Reuben finished. 

"Ah, well the general concensus is that I am Shinta," Trevor lied. He was working in secret, afterall. 

"Shinta..." Samantha started, "No offense, but that sounds rather...feminine for a guy's name." 

"It's Imperial," Trevor replied. 

"Ah."

One thing that Trevor had quickly learned during his training (which sometimes involved him moving into real situations, rather than simulated ones), is to find the people you like, make sure you can trust them, and make them like and trust you. They will be your best friend for eternity. Trevor knew this to be true, as he had gained many allies through this method, all of which had helped him at some point, many of which pulled him out of jams or given him money so he could pay off his debt (despite his "protests"), and several of which appeared willing to serve him as such for life. When you tip the elevator operator and the bellhop one hundred credits, and then give each of them another one hundred just because you like them, they fall under the "serve for life" category. Reuben was at a complete loss for words, and Samantha nearly fainted. In the span of seven minutes, they had each made almost as much as they did in a week of work (before tips and taxes).

Trevor, however, couldn't be bothered by this at the moment. He was too busy staring at the mansion that was his "room." The living area was at least three times the size of the one on the New Atlantis. The bedroom was easily twice the size of his, the bed four times as large and dressed with silk clothing. The bathroom was large enough to accommodate a separate bath, shower, and hot tub, all of which were at least twice the size of what he was expecting, and all adorned with gold fixtures. A personal recreation room, a sun room (when the sun was out, apparently), and a rose garden added to the extravagance, and upon discovering that there were two bedrooms of equal size, he nearly blacked out. Wandering outside, he discovered a full sized swimming pool, the water at least twenty five degrees Celsius, very warm when compared to the slightly chilly outside air, and an accompanying tennis court, net and all, both contained indoors and just a short walk across the patio.

Ok, Trevor thought, that's enough of that for now. Retreating back inside, closing the sliding glass door behind him, he doffed his shirt and dropped it onto the sofa, and was just about to start with his boots when someone knocked on his door. Answering it, he discovered room service with his aspirin and ice water. Taking them both, he tipped the marmoset twenty credits and shut the door. After swallowing the aspirin with the water, he set about getting his boots off. Tossing them aside he proceeded into one of the bedrooms (it didn't matter which), and flopped down onto the bed. It was so soft, he couldn't help but climb under the covers and sheets. Trevor felt his eyelids growing heavier with each passing moment, transforming from feathers to lead weights, and finally allowed them to shut...

...and he opened them once again. Immediately, Trevor noticed that the lighting had changed, and that it was much darker now. Rolling onto his side, he saw the alarm clock stating that he had been asleep for eight hours, which was just not right. For one, he was sleeping way too much, and two, he didn't feel much more rested than when he woke up on the shuttle. Mentally shrugging, he rolled onto his back again and glanced up at the skylight. It was covered with frost. Springing from the bed, he looked out at the patio: there was snow on the ground, and more was falling from the sky.

Yea, just what I need, Trevor's mind complained. Stripping down to his black boxers, he made his way to and opened up his suitcase, removing and donning heavier, cold weather clothing. Draping his duster over a chair, he put on and retied his boots, and pulled gloves over his paws. Finally, the duster went over his shoulders. Satisfied, he returned to his suitcase, and removed a small, ceramic container from it. Opening it, he found inside four arcane sabers, two his own, and two he had taken from other Knights. All of them went under his coat, and as he tucked his sunglasses into a pocket, Trevor went out into the cold night.

A gust of icy wind hit him in the face, and he quickly buttoned his coat. It didn't help much, but it was better than nothing. It wasn't snowing hard, so after locking the sliding glass door mentally (a task which was not as easy for him as another Knight), he quickly moved to the edge of the roof. Spying another building that was, at most, three stories shorter, Trevor backed up, ran, and leaped. The next building was shorter than Trevor had anticipated, because he overshot his desired landing point by a good thirty feet. Rolling as he hit the ground, he was up again, looking for another building. Even the tallest shorter one was too low for him to risk jumping, prompting him to find another way down.

Glancing over the side, he discovered a scaffolding, the motorized kind that window washers use to clean the windows of tall buildings. It was perhaps twenty feet below him. Hopping over the side, Trevor forced himself against the windows, slowing his descent greatly. A quick jump at the bottom of the path and he was safe in the cradle of the contraption. Much to his glee, it was still operating, even in the cold winter days, and he took it down as far as he could. Though he deemed the height difference reasonable now, he left himself without space to run. Silently berating himself, he climbed over the railing and prepared to jump.

Trevor felt himself rocket away from the building, and quickly became aware of how fast he was traveling. Within seconds he had cleared the gap, slamming into the wall as he arms seemingly stuck to the concrete. Air was forced out of his lungs from the impact, but he made it...just barely. Swinging his legs the left slightly, he flung them to the right, pulling the rest of his body onto the relative safety of the roof. He layed there for a good minute, trying to catch his breath. When at last, he did, he glanced down onto the street below, spying law enforcement and emergency medical services at the front door of another building, maybe two blocks away, by his best guess. Walking around on the roof, he at last found a rain gutter that appeared to go all the way to an alleyway below. Not an attractive solution, but effective. A quick hop, and he was climbing down, thanking his goddess that he had gloves and was not touching the freezing metal with his bare paws.

After a couple of minutes of climbing, Trevor set foot on solid ground again. Floating out of the alley and onto the sidewalk like a ghost, he made his way over to the scene. With the general level of chaos, he could not see what was happening. "What happened?" he asked a bystander, a viper. 

"Sssome guy in a coma," she hissed, "Ssseemed fine thisss morning...do you know-huh?" When she looked back, Trevor had moved past her and was approaching one of the enforcement officers. At first, they were objecting, but when the fox flashed them a badge of some sort, they let him through. I suppose he's a government agent, the viper thought. Shrugging, she turned and left, desiring sleep.

Trevor was partly surprised when he arrived at the man's apartment. The police had sectioned it off, but were not searching for any sort of weapon or chemical, or even searching at all. Trevor saw why: there was no weapon or chemical. The window in the bedroom was opened, the sheets on the bed were a mess, but there were no signs of struggle or conflict. Nothing was stolen or destroyed, no blood, nothing. Indeed, it seemed as though he had just fallen into a coma, but Trevor knew better. That sort of thing doesn't just happen. It takes a fairly severe trauma to the brain. But there's nothing. There's no reason for him to-

"What the fuck?"

Trevor looked at the sheets, spreading them out. There was a surprising amount of residual psychic energy on them. While all beings leave behind traces of such energy every time they touch an object, psionically active beings, Knights in particular, leave fairly large quantities. The logical answer would be that this man was a Knight, but that was unlikely. For one, Knights don't just randomly fall into comas, ever. And two, why would the window be opened? It was snowing outside, and no one in their right mind would let it inside. Looking again, he saw more "fingerprints", one group looking very much like fingers. So the Knight came in through the window, and put the guy into a coma, he thought. Why? Running over every possible reason, Trevor recalled something Wolf had once told him after a night of drinking, despite the mud that the alcohol had dumped over the memory. How Mariko had forcibly extracted information from someone's mind, leaving them in a coma. Bingo.

Suddenly, it hit him. Trevor looked outside of the window and at the fire escape. Though faint because of the snow, there was a trail left by the offending Knight. Quickly climbing outside, Trevor began to scale the rest of the platforms, following the trail as it led up. The parts untouched by the snow glowed strongly to Trevor's eyes, but were not fresh. Meaning that the trail was anywhere between thirty minutes and one hour old. When he reached the roof, he saw that the trail turned to the left and appeared to continue along the rooftops. Trevor charged, following the impressions much like a bloodhound follows a scent. Head start or not, outrunning a Slayer once they're on your trail is practically impossible. But Slayer or not, Trevor would be in pursuit for quite some time before he caught his quarry.

About half an hour into the chase, Trevor was becoming distressed. The snow was dispersing the impressions and the trail was growing cold. There had already been at least two rooftops where he had to stop and dig through the snow in an effort to locate the trail again. Following a physical trail was equally difficult, as the snow was covering any footprints and other markings he needed in order to follow. "Damnit..." he cursed quietly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement, and turned to see someone on the roof of another building. Moving slightly closer, Trevor concentrated and soon saw the distinctive aura of a Rogue. Wasting no more time, he broke into a run and jumped. With the extra momentum, this jump was considerably easier, if not without consequence. The Rogue saw him soaring through the air and had armed them self with two sabers. Trevor rolled and skittered along as he landed on the icy roof, barely avoiding injury as his opponent attempted to hit! him with the "Welcome" mat.

Springing to his feet, Trevor's own saber was out in the blink of an eye. Using his momentum, he spun, deflecting a double strike and launching a roundhouse kick. The Rogue ducked, and slashed towards Trevor's head while his back was turned. Operating on instinct, he held his weapon perpendicular to the ground and behind him as he spun, blocking the potentially mortal attack. He attacked with a diagonal strike, and spun he saber for a horizontal slash when his first attack was blocked. The second attack deflected, the Rogue tried another jab to the ribs, when Trevor shot out a lightning fast snap kick. "AH!" the Rogue screamed, the voice clearly female. She was knocked back several feet, but remained standing. Trevor was unimpressed by the display, but finally got a good look at the feline Rogue. The black tattoo and red hair was the giveaway. "The Rogue Vixen," Trevor stated, "Nice to meet you."

"I see my fame has reached even your ears, whoever you are," Vixen half snarled. 

"I believe you mean infamy," Trevor corrected, "Do you have any idea how many millions of credits in damages have been attributed to your name?" 

Vixen chuckled. "No, why not tell me?" she asked with a honeyed voice. 

Trevor dropped from his battle stance. "I would, but I don't know either. I was hoping you could tell me," he replied, shrugging. Vixen mocked laughter, and then charged, actually throwing one of her sabers like a dart. Not expecting it, Trevor was nearly skewered but managed to get out of the way. With her remaining saber, she slashed at his flank and when that attack was blocked, spun about and slashed at his legs. Trevor leaped over the slice and landed with a downward slice of his own. Vixen blocked and Trevor arced his weapon arm in a circle and came in with a stab. Deflected down, he spun to counter with an overhead slash, and when it was avoided, circle his saber into a repeating figure eight attack, keeping the blade so close to his body he would surely remove a leg if he wasn't careful. Deciding that was enough for the moment, Vixen jumped backwards, clearing a good fifteen feet, and both halted in defensive stances.

"Impressive. You're quite skilled," Vixen admitted, "And you seemed to have little trouble following me, so I'm certain you're a Slayer." 

"Observant," Trevor replied. 

Vixen smiled. "Dare I call you Black Adder?" she asked. Again, she was rewarded with praise.

"None other," Trevor said, "You got a sharp mind." 

Vixen laughed softly. "You're quite a bit shorter than I had imagined, 'Terror of All Knights'." 

Trevor hadn't heard that name in reference to himself, but he supposed that it fit well. "Many seem to think I should be taller. Perhaps I should invest in some elevator shoes," he joked. 

Vixen's discarded saber flew back into her waiting paw. "Oh, when I'm finished, there won't be a pair of elevator shoes in the galaxy that will make you half as tall as you are now," she said, sneering. 

"And you say that to the 'Terror of All Knights'? I'll remove some of those guts if you aren't careful," Trevor replied.

"Then come and get me," Vixen dared.

Trevor stared at her for a few moments. "Ok..." he said at last, "Goodbye." In the blink of an eye, Vixen found it necessary to deflect a saber aimed at her neck. A fist connected with her nose, and she stumbled back and ducked, causing another neck slice to miss her by centimeters. Spinning her sabers, she created a virtual wall of energy, allowing her to backpedal out of Trevor's range. When her vision cleared a bit more, she saw him standing more or less where he had been when he punched her, and she couldn't help but become slightly convinced that he had let her retreat. She knew that she couldn't win this fight as it was, so she did the most sensible thing she could for a Rogue in her situation.

She turned and ran away, as fast as she could. If the stories she had heard about the Black Adder were true, she would need nothing short of a thorium warhead to put him down. A low building was within jumping distance, and she went for it, soaring through the air like a bullet. The structure had a large banner on the side, advertising the company's newest product. Having carefully planned her jump in the time she had, she put her sabers away and arrived at the exact point where she could grip the top of the banner. Just as she was hoping, it began to rip, sending her on a nice controlled descent to the near empty streets below. Hopefully, she would have an easier time losing him there. Speaking of whom, Vixen noticed him still standing on the rooftop where she had first encountered him. Was he giving her another chance? Or is he giving me a head start? she wondered to herself, just slightly afraid. She had good reason to be.

Now, Trevor thought to himself. He jumped from the building and into the frigid night air...

It was at that moment that Vixen understood why so many claimed the Black Adder to be insane. She just witnessed him make a head first, eight hundred foot leap to his doom. However, if he found a way to slow his himself down, he would arrived on the street mere moments after she would, or perhaps even get there first. She also now knew why so many called him a cheat. By this time, he must have written Death at least one hundred I.O.U.'s. Drawing and activating a saber, she sliced the banner so the portion supporting her was thinner, causing it to rip faster. Even with the increased fall, she knew that with how fast he moved, he'd catch her in no time. Unwilling to believe that she was about to die, she dropped from the torn banner to the street below, and found herself greeted by the barrel of a rifle.

"Well, lookie here, a Knight," said the rifle toting ferret with a smirk, "And a vandal at that." 

Vixen cursed the night, for she had just dropped into a group of Hunters, the other four moving to fully surround her. "Guys, I really don't have the time for this. Plus, your worst nightmare is going to be here in just a few secon-" 

Vixen was cut off by a loud, scraping sound. They turned all their heads upward to the noise, and Vixen was impressed. Black Adder had maneuvered himself into the side of the building and was sliding down it, the friction bleeding off energy and slowing him down. She decided that he had written Death two hundred I.O.U.'s. While the Hunters were distracted, she made her move. Only seconds later, two Hunters lay dead and Vixen made her escape. Those remaining fired bullets and las bolts at her (one of them actually connecting, if only a glancing hit), but failed to kill her.

Trevor kicked off of and away from the structure's side, aiming for a low flag pole he had spotted. Aiming perfectly, he grabbed on, allowing himself to spin around once, and let go, flying back into the air at a reduced speed. Executing half a front flip, he placed his feet between himself and the pavement. Allowing his knees to buckle, he rolled with the rest of the impact and shook it off like dust. Standing, he looked at the group he had landed next too, and saw their eyes light up with recognition: they were the Hunters he had encountered during his meeting with Tordek. "You guys followed me across three systems? If you really have nothing better to do with your time, then you have my sympathies," he said, although they really didn't. More than anything, Trevor hated Hunters.

To his left, Trevor sensed one of the bringing a firearm to bear, and he was swiftly reprimanded. Trevor knocked the barrel of the weapon away and shoved his fist into the Hunter's throat. Quick as a wink, he grabbed and tossed him into the group, where the body soaked a shotgun blast before knocking down another Hunter. Spinning to the right, Trevor grasped the barrel of another rifled and jumped, sailing over a third Hunter and wrenching the weapon from his paws. Upon landing, Trevor swung like a baseball player, cracking the Hunter's jaw. With inertia on his side, Trevor spun in a circle and moved forward at the same time, smashing the head of another Hunter. Spinning one last time, Trevor let the rifle fly from his hands, hitting the last Hunter squarely in the nose and knocking him to the ground with a satisfying "CRACK!".

The threat defeated, Trevor turned and found Vixen's trail, and dashed after it. She had gone onto the roof of a low building, so Trevor jumped up and kicked off the side of it, propelling himself onto his target. But the trail was not there. He walked all over the roof, but found nothing. He checked in all the alleyways nearby, but found nothing. Finally, he carefully inspected power and phone lines, but the there was still nothing. "Fuck," he muttered, jumping back down to the street. Enraged, he spun and put his fist through a window, which shattered despite being made from what felt like glassteel. "FUCK!" Trevor screamed at the top of his lungs. He knew just how dangerous Vixen was, and also that he had found her trail by chance. Now, he had no idea where she was. With no options left, he trekked around until he found a way to get back atop the tall buildings, after which he simply went home.

Finding his patio now covered in snow, he saw no point in doing anything anymore. Unlocking the door, he went inside and dropped his coat before locking it again. He knew he hadn't been out more than an hour or two, but for all Trevor cared, the night was wasted. Removing his boots and clothing, he climbed back into bed and tried to go to sleep. He was tired beyond belief anyways, so why not? After some time, his eyes closed and the world faded to black.

* * *

So that's where he's hiding out, Vixen thought as she watched Black Adder open the door to what she was certain was the most expensive hotel penthouse she had ever seen. After waiting for a minute or two, she advanced along the rooftops, eventually leaping to the patio outside the door, cringing just slightly from where she had been shot. She was amazed that she had managed to tail a Slayer home, let alone Black Adder, and couldn't help but wonder if everything was alright in his life. She didn't know why, but there was just something about him. Sure, his strength and skill were to be admired, but so what? Vixen felt that she would have a more definite answer after she snuck in and killed him. After all, he had gone right to sleep. Using her telekinesis to unlock the door as quietly as she could, she slipped inside and locked it again. Now, she was impressed.

The sheer size of the room was breathtaking. She didn't know where he was getting the money for this, but hoped she would find out so she could get in on it. Pressing on, she found a suitcase lying in the middle of the room, filled with clothing and unmentionables. He had good, if expensive, taste in clothing. A large duffel bag was nearby, so she opened it and took a look inside. It contained a variety of objects; lock picks, multitools, a PDA, passport, a couple newspapers, and a book on Knight lore. The book looked fairly old and well used, and she decided she would have a closer look later on.

Turning away from the bag, she saw what looked like a bedroom. Walking into it, she saw that it was. The sheets on the bed were still made and undisturbed, although she had trouble deciding if they were sheets or silk tarps, such was their size. Unable to help herself, she walked over to the bed and touched the blankets. They were very soft, and she could tell that they were warm as well. Part of her wanted to lie down, but the rest cautioned against the wrath of the Black Adder, although a little late. Vixen sensed someone behind her, and she was certain it had to be him. Turning to face her fate, she saw something to truly admire.

Trevor was, in all aspects, miffed about someone coming into his home unannounced and uninvited, especially Vixen. Vixen was enjoying the sight of the fox wearing nothing but black boxer shorts. He was built, and built well. Although lean, he could easily pass for a model, if not for the tattoos. "Can I help you with something?" Trevor asked, grip tightening around the inactivated saber in his hand. 

Vixen realized that she had been staring, but quickly regained her composure. "In the light of truth, that depends," she replied. "On..."

Vixen could tell he wanted an answer, and wanted one right that moment. "Whether or not you can provide aid in the form I'm searching for," she said. 

"In other words," Trevor started, "You want me to go back to sleep so you can kill me in a properly Rogue-like fashion." 

Vixen considered the remark for a moment. "Yes, that would be helpful, I think," she said after a time. Trevor spun the saber hilt in his hand, and then tossed it out into the living area. 

"Go ahead and try, if you think you've got what it takes to last longer than a second," he taunted.

Vixen knew that was clearly an insult to her combat ability. She launched herself at Trevor, drawing and activating both sabers, but he was again the step quicker. The fox slammed into her hard, practically tackling her. The both landed on the bed, Vixen pinned down, one paw held fast, the other fighting to stay free. She pushed as hard as she could, but the Black Adder didn't even look like he was trying hard. A sharp exhale and both paws were now held firmly down, her sabers useless. But she still had her legs, and with every ounce of power she could muster, she brought her knee up into Trevor's crotch. She gasped when he didn't make any acknowledgement of being hit, not even an eye twitch. She knew one of two things was going to happen: either he would let her go, since she probably wasn't worth his time, if this was all she could do. Or, more likely, he would kill her with her own weapons. Whichever, she wished he would decide and then back off. His face was s! o close to her's that she could feel his breath.

"You lose," he taunted again. The way he said it made it sting that much more. As if he was saying she was completely useless and that he would tell the whole galaxy. Of course, Vixen knew this wasn't the case, but it didn't make it hurt less. 

"So now what?" she asked him. 

"I dunno. I can't decide what to do with you," was the reply, which was fairly open ended. He maintained his pin, leaving them little where else to look other than into each other's eyes. Vixen couldn't help but notice what a deep green Trevor's were, like dull emeralds. For minutes that seemed to drag on for hours, they remained motionless, Vixen waiting for Trevor to do something, and Trevor trying to decide what to do. Not a good combination when one wants something to get done.

"Alright, you do something," Trevor said at last. Vixen blinked.

"Like?" she asked. Trevor thought about that for a moment.

"Surprise me," he said. With that, Vixen raised her head and gave him a very quick kiss on his mouth. 

"Surprised?" she asked. 

"Very," Trevor replied, somewhat wide-eyed. The overall shock of the situation was apparently short-lived, because Trevor quickly mimicked Vixen, and she did nothing to resist. Before long, one kiss turned into many, and Vixen felt Trevor's iron grip on her wrists relax. She thought of killing him with one of her now mobile sabers, but decided she shouldn't go and spoil this situation she was enjoying so much, and she deactivated and released the weapons, wrapping her arms around the fox. A quick tug and they rolled over, placing Trevor on his back with Vixen on top of him. 

"Now what?" she asked between kisses. She received only "Surprise me" as a response. And so, she provided what he deemed a very pleasant surprise.

* * *

Several hours later, Trevor forced his eyes to open. The frost remained on the window, despite the sun shining upon it. The first thing he noticed was that he felt rested for a change, as if he had gone for days without sleep before actually doing so. That made him happy. The second thing he noticed was the feline in his arms, still sleeping. Knowing that what had happened the previous night was, in fact, not a dream made him very happy. Though beyond his capacity to explain, Trevor felt relaxed and at peace, a nice change from the mountains of stress clouding his life in the past weeks. He thought of going back to sleep, snuggling with Vixen for a few hours more, but the clock by the bedside, well, it was on the floor. After picking it up, it showed him that it was nearly noon. He decided that he should probably do something productive for the day and, both quietly and reluctantly, pulled himself out of bed and made his way to the shower.

The sound of running water reached Vixen's ears, and slowly, she woke herself up. Without a doubt, the shower was presently occupied by Trevor, the Black Adder that had mystified her for so long. Seeing that it was almost noon, she thought the perhaps she should get ready to face the day as well. Maybe Trevor would feel like spending some of the fortune he apparently had. Wrapping the bed sheet around her body, she ventured towards the other bathroom, as the hot tub in there was looking very inviting. In the living area, she heard a quiet ringing, and realized that it was Trevor's cell phone. Making her way to it, she looked at the screen. The name "Mariko" was displayed on it. All at once, a sly and somewhat evil grin spread across her face, and she answered. "Trevor's pants," she said into the receiver.

"Trevor's...what?" The voice clearly belonged to the mutton herself. "Who is this, and why do you have Trevor's pants? Where is he?" 

"Oh, he's not in them at the moment," Vixen replied, still grinning, "Would you like me to take a message?" 

"What? No! Put Trevor on right this minute, I don't care if he's having lunch with his goddess!" Mariko screamed. 

"One moment mutton," Vixen said before bringing the phone to Trevor, laughing the entire time as a shrieking Mariko demanded an explanation. "Trevor," Vixen said upon entering, "Telephone." 

"Huh? Oh, thanks." Trevor leaned out of the shower spray and took the phone. "Yes?" he said before pulling the phone away to protect his hearing. "Good afternoon to you too," he said once the screaming had stopped, "You seem cranky. Have you had a nap today?"

"Don't pull that shit with me, Trevor," Mariko shouted, "What are you doing with Vixen? And why does she have your pants?" 

"Well, I'm not wearing them or much of anything at the moment. Why?" he asked. Again, he was forced to pull the phone away or risk going deaf in one ear. "Would you relax? It's not that big a deal," Trevor protested. Looking out into the room, he saw Vixen drop the bed sheet and begin climbing into the hot tub. 

"....insane! Trevor? Trevor! Are you listening to me?!" Mariko demanded. 

"I gotta go," he said before hanging up and tossing the phone out the opened door into the bedroom. "Not to impose, but would you mind if I joined you?" Trevor asked. Leaning back in the water, Vixen simply raised her paw and beckoned, prompting Trevor to turn off the shower and join her for a little "relaxation".

Vixen rested her head against Trevor's chest, listening to his heartbeat. She never worried about things like this before, as they seemed rather unimportant, but nevertheless it was moderately interesting. The water now had a reddish tint to it. Blood from where she scratched Trevor with her claws. He hadn't complained about pain or discomfort, and it excited her (which he seemed to realize) and had not objected. "How'd you get this?" she asked, tracing a scar of his right biscep. The large one on his chest had been explained already, a tale she found slightly amusing. 

"Bar fight. Fucker stabbed me with a twelve-inch blade, all the way through," Trevor replied, "Your turn." He pointed to one of her own injuries, just above her right breast. 

"Throwing knife. Let my focus slip. Oh, here's a nice one," Vixen said, finding a large one on his thigh. 

"RPG," he said. It took that sentence a moment to register. 

"...don't those normally explode when they hit something! ?" she asked, not believing it at all. 

"Normally, they do. I guess the warhead was no good, so all it did was leave a nice, big hole," Trevor replied. His hand settled onto her flank. 

"12-gauge shotgun, point-blank," Vixen informed him, "Can you compete with that?" 

"Not really, but I have a nice collection of laser burns on my shoulder."

Vixen chuckled slightly, and then took notice. "What about this one?" she asked, running her finger over one on his forehead. 

"Oh, you don't want to hear about that one," Trevor said. 

"Actually, I do. Tell me." Vixen simply had to know now. 

"No, it's, it's stupid," Trevor tried again. 

"Come on, tell me." 

Trevor sighed, defeated. "Got drunk, tripped, and hit my head on the coffee table." Vixen looked at him for a moment. 

"You get shot at everyday and a block of wood beats you up?" Vixen teased. 

"Oh, shut up..." the fox whined. 

"Aw, poor Trevor," Vixen teased again before kissing him, biting his lip hard. Since he felt no pain from it, he simply allowed her to have her fun. Satisfied, Vixen stood and left the water, taking a towel as she did. Trevor remained sitting down, eyes transfixed on her tail as she dried off.

"So, how are we going to spend the day?" Vixen asked, drying her hair. 

"I don't know," Trevor replied, "Eat lunch, go shopping, fuck some more, take your pick." 

"Those all sound like fine activities, in my opinion," Vixen admitted. 

"Well, then why don't we get lunch, go shopping, look for work, and then fuck some more?" Trevor suggested. 

Vixen froze. "I'm sorry, look for work?" she demanded, turning around and glaring at him. 

"Yes, look for work. I don't mean the kind of work where people lift crates, push pens, fuck that," Trevor replied, "The kind of work I'm talking about is the kind where you're paid to break laws, not obey them."  Vixen ears perked up, eyes beginning to shine. "The best paying lines of work at this time babe, are hired theft and contract killing," the fox finished.

In no time at all, Vixen was again by his side, and gave him a light but forceful slap across the face. "Don't ever call me 'babe'," she commanded him. 

Trevor looked at her for a moment before saying, "Ok," and shrugging. Satisfied, Vixen dropped the towel on Trevor's head and left to get dressed. 

Rolling his eyes, Trevor also exited, drying his hair and fur. "By the way Vixen, thank you," he said as he began picking up his boxers. 

"What for?" Vixen asked, her pants already on. 

"Well, you have successfully dispelled the rumors about my being gay," Trevor replied, now wearing his boxers and starting across the dwelling to fetch his pants. Vixen's mouth was agape for a moment or two. "And how was that conclusion reached?" she asked, very much amused. Trevor shrugged his shoulders. "I honestly have no fucking clue," he replied, "Maybe something with my style of dress, who knows?"

"I take this dispelling of rumors to mean that you're straight," Vixen said. 

"Well..." Trevor replied, looking over his shoulder with a mischievous grin on his face, "Partly." 

"Oh, really now?" Vixen asked, walking up behind him as she pulled her shirt on, "Never really developed a preference?" 

"Well," Trevor replied, grabbing a shirt from his suitcase, "It's not so much a lack of preference as it is I'm not picky." 

Vixen caught up to Trevor, wrapping her arms around and pressing herself up against him. "Isn't that the same thing?" she asked. 

"Probably," Trevor replied, "What about you, Vix? Are you 'open to suggestions'?" 

"I'm not telling. You have to guess," Vixen teased. With that, she left him to his own devices. Smiling, Trevor finished getting dressed, now wondering exactly how he was going to find out.

* * *

"Oh, Trevor, in here," Vixen said, grabbing the sleeve of the fox's jacket and dragging him. 

"Gah!" Trevor exclaimed, "Where are we going?" 

"In there," Vixen replied, pointing to one of the shops. 

"Why?" Trevor asked, confused, "The windows have sheets or something hung up and you can't even see inside. How do you know what they're selling?" 

"Trevor," Vixen said as she looked at him, still dragging him along, "Think about it."

"...oooohhhh." All at once, Trevor understood, and walked to both keep up and hasten they're arrival. Pushing their way through the doors, the found inside a very different world than outside. Especially apparent from the variety of exotic and painful looking sex toys lining the walls. Upon closer inspection, Trevor decided that several of them were not actually toys, but weapons that could be purchased without a permit. Fortunately, Vixen wasn't eying any of those, at least not yet. The two were greeted by an overly pierced ocelot dressed in tight, black leather that left little to the imagination. She asked them a question, and once Vixen informed her which language she needed to be speaking, they were well on their way to purchasing some kinky, kinky equipment.

Trevor didn't mind so much what Vixen was selecting and purchasing. What he did mind was that were the few items she decided to "test" on him. Most of them, he tolerated easily, and although he considered complaining that the paw cuffs she had selected weren't very high quality, he didn't feel like it. The best part, he felt, was when Vixen decided that since she was without her usual wardrobe, she should pick up a few new articles of clothing. Since Trevor got to watch her try on the various outfits, particular the black leathers, he was not about to complain, and was perfectly content to sitting back and enjoying the view.

Presently, Vixen was trying on a very small bustier that appeared to have been designed to crush people to death. Thigh-high, high heeled boots and a riding crop were provided for completion, and Trevor very much liked the result. It accentuated all the curves of her body, and made her breasts and legs appear larger and longer than they were already. A quick smack from the crop jolted Trevor back into reality, and he realized that he had been drooling. Grinning slyly, Vixen turned and returned to the dressing room, and Trevor enjoyed the sight of her barely covered rear for a moment before she disappeared behind the curtain, forcing his imagination to run wild. Half of Trevor wanted her to finish. His excitement was very visible and frankly, it was going to make walking very difficult. The other half hadn't decided yet.

"I take it that your shopping is going well," asked the ocelot who was minding the shop. 

"Yea, I think that's easy to see," Trevor replied. 

"Well, look at it this way. At least you'll be occupied tonight," she said again. 

Trevor considered this for a moment, and then nodded in agreement. "Doesn't sound bad at all," he figured. His focus now wasn't so much on the fun he was going to be having later, though, and much more on this feeling he had, that something was about to happen. Might as well discuss it over lunch, he thought. Two minutes (and some tucking) later, they had made their purchases, Trevor paying for all of it, and were on their way to locate some source of nourishment.

"There. I want some of that to eat," Vixen said, pointing to a small kiosk with noodles, small seafood dishes and outdoor dining. 

"Sure. Whatever you want is fine," Trevor replied as he followed her. He didn't particularly feel like fish, but he didn't care enough to object or complain either. With his monetary reserves still brimming, he didn't mind buying such expensive food either. In almost no time at all, they had claimed their own table, each with a bowl of noodles and several samples of the daily catch. It was surprisingly good for mall food. Vixen ate happily, and Trevor was content. At least, he was until Vixen decided on a new course of action. 

"Are you going to eat that?" she asked, snatching away some of his fish without waiting for a reply, stuffing it into her mouth and smiling, "Thanks." 

"Hey," Trevor objected. He began to eat faster as a riposte, and when she tried to get more of his fish, he deflected her fork with his own and took some of her fish. In response, she kicked him in the shin and silently pouted through the rest of the meal. Trevor knew that no good could come of this.

Once the meal was finished, the pair again resumed wandering the mall, although Trevor spent of good deal of that time trying to apologize to Vixen. Somehow, he felt that spending more money was preferable to what fate lay in store for him if he didn't try to correct the situation. After nearly ten minutes of both sweet-talk and fast-talk, Vixen's mood finally improved, even if only slightly. Somehow, Trevor didn't feel anymore at ease, and in fact, felt he was worse off than he was ten minutes ago. However, he still couldn't ignore that same feeling from earlier. Something pricked the back of his skull, and he glanced back over his shoulder. Indeed, someone was following them, but since Trevor looked at them rather casually, they paid him no mind, and the Slayer returned his eyes forward.

"You could have told me he was there," he said to Vixen. 

"I could have. And you could have left my fish alone," she hissed back. Trevor rolled his eyes and continued walking, though he kept alert. He could hear their tail speaking softly to himself, giving directions. In all likely hood, he was speaking into a radio and directing his allies for a surprise attack. Trevor knew Vixen was aware of this as well, and so didn't bother to tell her. If they want to play, then we'll play. Unfairly, of course, Trevor thought to himself. He never played any other way. They rounded a corner, and when the lemur tracking them followed, he discovered them to be nowhere in sight.

* * *

"Ah, shit..." At once, the radio was in the hand of an orangutan. 

"What? What happened?" the operator asked. 

The lemur looked around again. "I, I lost them," he admitted, defeated. A brief silence. 

"Meet up with the rest of us. We'll discuss a new plan," came the order. Sighing, the Hunter complied and walked to the designated meeting area. 

Once he was out of sight, Vixen emerged from the shadows. "Hmph, too easy, wouldn't you say?" she stated, "Trevor?" The fox was not there, and she started to glance around.

"Yes?"

Vixen almost jumped, but kept herself from doing so. He managed to sneak right in front of her, his back turned. She didn't find his joke funny, but she had to respect his skill. "You know what happens once a Slayer finds your trail?" Trevor asked. 

"You never get away," Vixen replied. Trevor kneeled down, and a second later, he was screaming through the air, landing on the rooftops effortlessly. Vixen followed him, and they both set after their quarry. 

"Hunter. Hunted. Which are you?" Trevor said, quoting a song he had heard once. On the surface below, a young child watched the buildings. She thought she saw something moving, but it must have been her imagination. All it really looked like was a couple of shadows, anyways.

Vixen found herself slightly amazed with Trevor's stride. Knights are known for running at supernatural speeds, but the only secret was to increase the length of the stride and take no more time to cover that distance. The stride of a novice Knight running all-out was usually between five and seven feet. With her experience, Vixen figured her stride to be between ten and twelve feet, which was fairly impressive. Given how much trouble she was having in keeping up with Trevor, his stride had to be at least one-and-a-half times the length of her's, maybe even twenty feet if he pushed himself, and he didn't even seem to notice the speed at which he was moving. Of course, she wasn't about to let him have the satisfaction of knowing this, so she just put forth the extra effort and kept quiet. Catching up to their target proved easy.

Trevor was uneasy and slightly afraid. Not because he was working with one of the most infamous Rogues ever, nor because he was standing on the roof of a building, overlooking a crowded mall where anyone could spot him. What unnerved Trevor was how keen his vision had suddenly become. When he attempted to locate his target visually, dozens of different auras came into view, and then the one he wanted simply stood out while the rest were filtered away like background noise. Unnerving or not, it was useful, and he had no problem leading Vixen onwards, though he was beginning to wonder why she was breathing a little harder than normal. "This way," Trevor said, easily bounding the forty foot gap between structures. Vixen was glad for something she could do with equal ease.

After a couple minutes, Trevor at last traced the lemur to what appeared to be his destination, as there was a moderately large group waiting for him. Watching from a high rooftop, Trevor leaned against the surrounding wall and rested his head on his folded arms. "Wow, you guys really now how to stay secretive," he muttered. 

"Well, at least it makes it easy to find them all," Vixen responded, taking up a post next to Trevor, "Let's kill them now." 

"Let's not," Trevor said back. Before he knew it, she had her arms around him. 

"Aw, com'on Trevor," she purred into his ear, "Let me have my fun." 

"Vixen, someone will see and call the police, and law enforcement here is very good. Wait until they go inside, huh?" the fox replied, "After that, you can do whatever you want, and I do mean whatever you want, ok?" Vixen just squeezed him tightly and squealed happily.

After a minute or two, the group split again, moving in various directions. "That one," Vixen said, pointing, "Let's go after them first." 

"No, we're going after the guy from earlier. It's not nice to follow people like that, and we need to have a little 'chat' with him," Trevor replied. Vixen liked that idea better, and off she went, bounding to a lower rooftop and then to the street, unseen. 

Trevor, however, was already there. "What took you so long?" he asked, smiling sweetly. 

"Wise bitch..." Vixen said, half-snorting. In but a second, they were moving through the crowd.

He couldn't put his finger on it, but Caine just felt that something was wrong. This became ever more apparent when, from out of nowhere, the fox and cat he had been following earlier each had an arm around his shoulders and began leading him out of sight. "Hey pal," the fox said, "We need to talk about your stalking habits." Unless the others hurried, Caine knew he was fucked. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that even if the others did hurry, he was still fucked. 

"Yes Caine, you are fucked, and there's nothing you can do about it," the feline said, reading his mind. Caine snorted. This just wasn't his day.

Safely in a desolate alleyway, Trevor pulled this Caine away from Vixen and slammed him against a wall, paw gripped tightly around the lemur's throat. "Start talking bitch," Trevor said roughly. 

"Fuck you," was the reply. Trevor just moved in even closer. "I'll consider the offer, but first, where are your pals?" he asked again. 

"I'm not telling you anything," Caine retorted, steeling himself against whatever mind tricks this vulpine had in store. 

"Yes you are. You're telling that you want to make this very painful for yourself," Trevor said, easily tossing Caine against the opposite wall and dazing him, "I tried being nice. He's all your's Vixen." 

"Goody goody!" she exclaimed, grinning sadistically. She would enjoy this very much.

At first, Caine's world was a bit hazy from hitting the wall. Then, he felt a pair of paws roughly grab his head, and then the rush of absolute horror. He could only stand helplessly, as if outside his own body, as he felt the rush of rending desires and terrible intentions enter his mind. He could feel his memories being stolen and his knowledge pirated as Vixen raped his brain. After a mere second, he found himself sprawled on the ground. Half in control of himself, the sky was a violent red to his eyes, and he could not move as his body spasm. But he could still hear, and he heard gunfire.

"Caine!"

The sound of his name helped to jolt him back to reality. His sight focused on one of his comrades shaking him awake. The Fates had favored him over the Knights today, and his friends had arrived to save him. This fact did not leave Trevor or Vixen in a good mood, not one bit. Initially, Vixen had been upset when her "partner" roughly yanked her away from her toy. She was slightly less upset when she saw the walls explode under a hail of bullets and las bolts. Luckily for him, he knew better than to carry her around like some helpless kid, and as soon as they were out of the alley, he let her go to escape by herself. She found the rampant masses of mall-goers panicking and running every which way, males abandoning their girlfriends and mothers dragging their children. Amusing, and the sight of the ground being chewed up around them was equally fun. She noticed Trevor beckon her over as he dove behind a concrete fountain, and she rushed to join him, gracefully spinning and allowing projectiles to flit through the air around her.

"What is it?" she asked. 

"I have an idea," he said, his coolness never fading even as a large caliber round ripped into the fountain just centimeters from his skull, "We're going to kill these fuckers and let everyone see us do it." Vixen didn't have much confidence in this plan, but just shrugged and agreed. They broke and rushed out into the firefight, making up their plan of attack as they went along.

Trevor saw a Hunter wielding a shotgun, and immediately dashed for her. Seconds began to stretch into hours, and she started turning, but too slow. She spun violently as Trevor grabbed her weapon, forcing her to aim at a compatriot and fire. She didn't realize it until they were flying backwards from the force of the buckshot. An elbow to the stomach forced her to double over and release the shotgun, and Trevor executed a high back flip towards, working the action and blasting the Hunter from overhead. Landing, he pumped it again and shot a third before dropping the weapon and darting into a run again, drawing one of his sabers.

Vixen leapt forward, twirling in a corkscrew as she drew and activated her own weapons. She felt the heat from passing las bolts, and bounced one off a saber. Landing in the center of a trio of Hunters, she whirled the sabers over her head and was rewarded with slashed veins and a severed arm. Torque one saber backwards, she shoved it into the midsection of one Hunter, hopped and rolled across their back, and used the momentum to propel the other saber into the torso of a second. Releasing her grip on one saber, she yanked her remaining weapon free, causing viscera to spill from two sources as she sliced out of one Hunter and into the remaining one. She sprinted again and called her weapon back to her paw.

Trevor flowed like water as he deftly decapitated a Hunter, ducked a bullet, and deflected another into a nearby wall. Halting his arm's movement and releasing his grip, he allowed the saber to careen into another Hunter, killing them instantly. Kicking the ground hard, he spun and snapped the knee of a third, dropping them to the floor, and followed that by jumping and spinning, nailing two more in the face with a splits kick. Using the last of his momentum as he landed, he brought his fist down on the throat of the downed Hunter, smashing their larynx and dooming them to suffocate.

Mimicking Trevor in tactics, Vixen lobbed both her sabers, impaling yet another two Hunters and leaving only one. Before they could react, Vixen lashed out and held them in brain lock, and then psychically grabbed one of her sabers and flung it at them, slicing them into two, neat halves. Fifteen Hunters dropped in fifteen seconds. Once again, the combat superiority of Knights shined through, and the fight was little more than cake. The duo recalled their weapons and stowed them again, and Trevor picked up the shopping bags he had left by the fountain. Vixen walked over to him.

"And now what happens as part of your plan?" she asked. 

Trevor adjusted his sunglasses before answering, "At least fifty people just witnessed us save them from a group of psycho maniacs. The cops won't touch us now." He grinned, and then gestured that they leave. Vixen agreed and they ducked into another alley. By the time the police arrived, the two were back at the hotel, eager to use their new equipment.

For a few hours, Trevor was able to forget able the rising tides of war...