[b][X] - Defend your martial honor like a samurai truly would. Although you may be without your weapon, you can still use something from the surrounding Shelf to help you survive. Cut through these Smiler dogs and spill their blood in the name of the Clan you fought for. [1][/b]

[hr]

Retreat? You purge that traitorous thoughts from your head. Run away like a dishonourable, inkless coward? 

You stood strong when a platoon of milkmen from the Dairy aisle assaulted your column at the northern freezers. 

You stood unflinchingly as the Cult of the Smiling One unleashed the horrors of Security on you, charging on pidgeonback with lance in hand towards the shelf-tall robotic manservant. 

You stood bleeding, protecting the glue farmers of Uhu, as several children huddled behind you in a pipeline, the tattered remains of your thousand folded katana in your hands against a horde of Smilers. 

You will not fold now or in the foreseeable future. The first of the cultists comes towards you, a heavyset man with thick jowls who wears a headband crafted from measuring tape on his bald scalp. Your face wrinkles in disgust as you notice a dozen bad habits immediately. He grips his three-foot long spoon too loosely. His breathing is irregular. His back is bent too low. He never had the fortune to go through the martial regimen that the Stationary Shogunate provided to you.  

“ ALWAYS LOW - urk!” His scream is cut short as your fist connects with the Adam's apple of his throat, stopping the deranged cultist dead in his tracks.  You then rip the weapon from his dazed hands and take a moment to examine it. It’s not a spoon. 

It’s a spork. Even better.

In one swift movement,  you bring it overhead and then, down upon him, splattering his skull all over the shelf top, Specks of blood shower over your pristine paper armor like red paint over a clear canvas. The rest arrive, 20 in total, and look at you, unsure of whether or not to attack. You take a look behind. Haagen and Leash are taking care of a dozen Smilers on the other side of the Shelf. Haagen gives a personal demonstration to the Smilers that a ice cream scoop is sharper than it looks whilst Leash is busily turning them into dead meat as you hear the dull thwacks of staples entering their bodies. 

A cry breaks the silence. 

“ KILL THE SAMURAI!” 

“ Steel bends and paper tears, only honour is eternal!” You reply in return, leaping into the horde of Smilers and begin a dance that you stepped thousands of times before in practice and in the fires of sport. Limbs fly as you swing the stainless steel in your hands into the thick of it, smashing bone with the flat of it and spearing through flesh with its three prongs. It is a thin line between bloodlust and discipline that you engage in, swinging your spork with mania and precision. One Smiler gets the bright idea to attack you from behind, failing as you shove the handle into her gut before silencing her heaving form with an underhand slash that spills her brains out. 

“ Hold.” 

The remaining Smilers stop attacking at the sound of the word. 

Your muscles ache with the familiar twinge of fatigue. You haven’t gone this hard since Black Friday. Both Haagen and Leash have been subdued whilst you were battling, dozens of hands gripping their bodies. Haagen, in a fit of desperation, kicks the package you delivered towards you. You grab it and level out your spork towards the crowd. They hiss in response, surrounding you in a circle that grows ever smaller by the moment. 

The crowd parts and rumbles as the same priest who spoke at the entrance of the Bargain Bin looks at you, not with geniality, but with a cold smile. 

“ All this blood shed…….. What a waste. A shame that you are not on our side. I understand your hatred towards us, samurai.” He lisps over the first syllable breathlessly, as if uttering it gave him bliss. “ Out of respect for your loss in the last Black Friday, I will allow you to leave this Shelf with your head intact.” 

You keep your guard up, shifting your body so that the package is guarded behind you. The priest notices, raising an eyebrow. 

“ I see...." He then looks at Haagen with a sneer of contempt. " What did he give you to ferry it all the way here? I doesn't matter. You may think you know what you have in your possession but you have no idea what value it holds to me. Name your price, samurai. You fight for an ice cream smuggler and a feral beast. I suggest a person who values honour such as you should leave….and forget the past history between your department and our brotherhood. ” 

“ Don’t listen to this gluten free coward!” Haagen yells madly at you. “ Protect it and I will pay you back a thousandfold!" 

[X] - Give the package over to the priest. After all, how much can one package be worth? 

[X] - Deny it from the priest. Whatever is inside the package, you can't guarantee that the Cult of the Smiling One won't turn it upon the Stationary Shogunate. They are still the same ones who led a crusade that razed dozens of departments during the Black Friday.  

[X] - Destroy it so that no one can have it. If it's so much trouble to the both of them, you might as well cut the common factor out of the equation.