[color=slategray][color=peru][b]“So did your father tell you I stopped by..?”[/b][/color] [color=tomato]“Ming Tian?!”[/color] [color=peru][b]“No. Today.”[/b][/color] The younger man made the same joke he had so many times before. Ming Tian Jin was another refugee from the China, although the circumstances couldn’t be more different from Qing Yuan Liu’s. Ming Tian – translated directly to ‘Tomorrow’ – was a knowledge worker, coder and genius in the tech space for one of Shenzen’s leading technological companies, and was one of the formative mind’s behind the Chinese super-app WeSpeak. In American-talk he’s something known as a ‘tech bro’. Choosing to defect from his homeland, and offering the prospect of his experience and knowledge in the tech space, America was all too willing to turn the tables after China had reverse-engineered so many American innovations in the past. …and then the news leaked to the leading executives of the American-based social media networks. The terror of an all-encompassing app cutting into their marketspace and bottomline horrified them, and after a long period of lobbying against his presence – both letting him into the country, and then pouring money into attempting to regulate him out of any possibility of entering the competitive market, there was only so much that could be done. So they had to negotiate with him themselves, individually and independently. The solution – Ming Tian Jin signed an agreement which included a non-compete clause with the heads of three different companies, each unknown to the others, that would see him paid a million dollars a day for a five year period. That’s when the ‘Jin’ – translated directly to ‘Gold’ became so fitting. After a month, Ming Tian Jin had accrued ninety million dollars completely tax free under civil agreement whilst never working a day. After investing a sizeable chunk in various interests, he is likely to be a billionaire within nine months, by estimated trends. He went from being the Government’s payback against the Chinese for crimes against their economy, to a sponge absorbing millions tax free, converted by those in his own sector living in fear of competition. …and everything that Bo Wen Liu did not at all care for. He dressed in what you would view to be a teenager’s perspective of stylish if-money-were-no-object fashion sense… for obvious reasons. He’d forever adorn himself in a steady rotation of expensive designer sunglasses or extravagant watches. And from the outside looking in, he had absolutely no work ethic to speak of – particularly when he would revel in his decision and the boundless free time it afforded him. [color=tomato]“What are you doing here?”[/color] [color=peru][b]“I had free time.”[/b][/color] [color=tomato]“You always have free time. What makes today any different?”[/color] Ming Tian considered the statement, then tilting his head with a nod, accepted it as fact, before shrugging. [color=peru][b]“You don’t have anymore… ugh… work..? Is that how you say it..? Today?”[/b][/color] [color=tomato]“Just watching the shop til Ba gets back, I think. Then I’ve got nothing on, not til I make dinner later for tonight.”[/color] [color=springgreen]“Oh. You back.”[/color] Bo Wen revealed himself again, from the staircase, with a flat voice matched only in its dour nature by the expression on his face. [color=peru][b]“Walk and talk?”[/b][/color] The younger pitched. [color=tomato]“I mean, I could. But why?”[/color] [color=peru][b]“So I could make your day brighter in the secondhand incandescent glow of my own.”[/b][/color] [color=tomato]“Somehow. Sadly. I really have nothing better happening anyway. That’s really the best offer I have.”[/color] Qing sighed, and stepped around the counter. [color=springgreen]“That not true. In fact Qing met pretty lady yesterday. [b]AND AGAIN[/b] today. From [b]HIS WORK[/b].”[/color] Pride clear on his aging smirking face. [color=peru][b]“And I meet plenty of pretty ladies every day. And have ample time to speak with any and all of them, because I don’t work.”[/b][/color] Bo Wen scowled a dark squint from the counter. [color=tomato]“I'll be back in a bit. Told you, I'd make dinner tonight.”[/color] [color=springgreen]<“Really, Qing? With him..?">[/color] His father asked in Wu, disappointment clear in his voice. [color=tomato]“That's pretty rude, Ba.”[/color] Bo Wen's expression dropped. [color=peru][b]“Thank you!”[/b][/color] [color=tomato]“I mean, his ears aren't [b]THAT[/b] big...”[/color] Bo Wen's grin came back. [color=peru][b]“Hey wait, what'd he say about my ears?!”[/b][/color] Ming Tian put his hands to his ears with all of the self-consciousness of his youth. Qing winked at the older man conspiratorially. [color=tomato]“I won't be too long.”[/color] The bell and buzzer signalled their departure, and Bo Wen went back to repairing the espresso machine. Faith once again restored in how he raised his son. [color=peru][b]“So... Pretty girl yesterday, huh? That's new.”[/b][/color] He thought back to Shenden curled up in the golden glow of the amber streetlight, in the chair under his mother's blanket. [color=tomato]“Some. Yeah.”[/color] [color=peru][b]“Some..?”[/b][/color] [color=tomato]“Yeah, some. I lead a very full life.”[/color] [color=peru][b]“That's... different.”[/b][/color] [i]“No Qing. I'm... I'm the bird.” ... “Say would you rather have a bionic arm or a bionic leg?” ... She dipped a finger in the substance and blinked. “Huh. It's sticky. Oops.” ... She looked at the tub and then at Qing. “Now that looks like something I want to stick my finger in.” ... Qing watched as she removed a second piece of sandpaper from his toolbelt, and ran his eyes up her to her face in one long stare, while she crouched unreasonably close. Before soundlessly turning his attention back to the work at hand.[/i] [color=tomato]“Yeah, 'different' is certainly the word for it.”[/color] Qing's smile held the laughter of an inside joke that Ming Tian knew he wasn't privvy to. Conversation backed with the percussive sounds of Ming Tian's several hundred dollar basketball shoes and Qing's steel capped workboots pounding the pavement. [color=peru][b]“What are you doing tonight?”[/b][/color] [color=tomato]“After making food? Sleeping, probably.”[/color] [color=peru][b]“Wanna hang at mine? Or we could go out someplace, find girls?”[/b][/color] [i]He's bored. Or lonely. Again.[/i] [color=tomato]“I've got work in the morning. And qigong. And your place is in West Gate.”[/color] [color=peru][b]“Hey-Hey-Hey! Please. It's in the Lantern District. Technically it's closer to Midtown than West Gate.”[/b][/color] Horrified as if Qing had just taken half of his property value with the very suggestion. [color=tomato]“My point was its the other side of the city. Or are you going to go with me to qigong at Moench Park in the morning?”[/color] [color=peru][b]“I am not.”[/b][/color] The younger man flatly replied. [color=tomato]“That's what I thought.”[/color] [color=peru][b]“It's what rideshare apps are for. Or I could send you there in a car.”[/b][/color] Qing stopped in his tracks. Making Ming Tian eventually stop and turn back to face him. [color=tomato]“You're going stir-crazy.”[/color] [color=peru][b]“I'm fine. I just thought you might want to do something.”[/b][/color] [color=tomato]“You're not. I can't believe it. Ba was actually right. You're not working and now you don't know what to do with yourself.”[/color] Ming Tian turned back away and went back to walking, mild irritation in his voice. [color=peru][b]“I told you. I'm fine. Your father doesn't know what he's talking about. Worry about yourself.”[/b][/color] Qing jogged to once again catch up. [color=tomato]“Yeah? Okay. Now you asked and got your answer what are you planning on doing?”[/color] [color=peru][b]“You think you're my only friend? I have tons of friends. Hundreds. I'll be fine.”[/b][/color] [i]Yeah, and how many are hanging out with you 'cos you're paying.[/i] The silent question hung between them. Ming Tian sullenly turned away from the unwelcome thought down a side-alley. Qing caught a glint just in time. He pushed the younger man's head down and shoved him forward as steel shrieked its violent threat against brick, mere inches above his head and Qing's hand. [color=peru][b]<“What the Hell, man?!”>[/b][/color] He briefly reverted back to his native Mandarin in shock. [color=white]“It's you..!"[/color] The wielder of the blade hissed in sudden recognition. [color=tomato]“East of Brubaker? In broad daylight..?”[/color] The blade was spreading its influence. He'd grown beyond one set of orders to start following another's. [color=peru][b]“You know this guy?!”[/b][/color] [color=tomato]“I'm familiar.”[/color] Qing flatly replied. [color=peru][b]“East of Brubaker..? So what is this? Some kind of gang territory thing? What's all this about?”[/b][/color] [color=tomato]“Silver.”[/color] Qing spotted recognition briefly washing over the wielder's face. As if the sound of leaves rustling in the breeze uttered a name once known. He took it as confirmation of everything he knew. [color=peru][b]<“Silver?! Then leave 'Gold' out of this?”>[/b][/color] He played with his own name's meaning in his native Mandarin. [i]Breathe in.[/i] [color=peru][b]“What are you gonna do?”[/b][/color] He asked him as Qing let his form drop into a natural stance. [color=tomato]“Don't touch the blade.”[/color] Qing uttered, as he... [i]Breathe out.[/i] [color=peru][b]“I did not need you to tell me that...”[/b][/color] [color=tomato]“I mean it. Even if you think you're helping out. If he drops it, leave it where it lies.”[/color] [color=peru][b]“Whoa, whoa... Is there even need for any of this? I've got money, man. We can figure this out. What exactly do you want?”[/b][/color] The younger one inched forwards. [color=white][b]"Bloooood."[/b][/color] Came the growl, from the wielder's inner depths. [color=peru][b]“Yeah, okay. I can't talk to this man. You've got this though, right, bro?”[/b][/color] Ming Tian stepped back away. Held his hands out in a gesture as if to say 'He's all yours'. [hr] [CENTER][sup][h1][center][img]Banner[/img][/center][b][center][color=black] F L O W S T A T E[/color] [color=tomato]F L O W S T A T E[/color][/center] [/b][/h1][/sup][/center] [hr] [i]Ming Tian can probably move faster than Mrs Wing. But if I expect much more than that physically, I'm asking for trouble.[/i] This morning's qigong did much to revitalise his chi, Qing could feel it brimming as the energy churned and stirred within. Once again he circled out, and made the wielder eye him, and him alone as he moved deeper into the alley. [color=peru][b]“Whoa, wait, you're not even gonna protect me?!”[/b][/color] Ming Tian gasped. It was like the surface tension of the threat Qing had portrayed had been burst. The man rushed and the blade swung, towards the younger man. He squealed. Qing's eyes widened and he moved fast in desperation. A trash bag slammed and knocked the wielder of the blade off balance, letting Ming Tian slip away. [i]Of course... unlike Mrs Wing, Ming Tian doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut...[/i] The blade's saya swung from around his shoulders by a thin cord. Qing spied it and his mind kept moving as the energy continued to flow and sluice within. Ming Tian Jin watched on in abject horror. He'd never felt so helpless before. All his money. All his intelligence, and none of it seemed to mean anything here. Qing, always so adaptable to any situation, always looking to fix any problem. Nothing seemed to shake him. The blade was swung with full force like a home run swing, Qing slipped within, and then quickly back out as he saw a second backhanded thrust come back at him. Waiting for the opening. Untrained arms tiring from effort. A misplaced safe angle. Anything. He slipped back inside to a trapping and sticking range and managed to get a hand to something which had been swinging and flailing with the wild slashes. Qing pulled the saya back and held it to as the sword crashed down against it. With a twist, Qing sent the blade harmlessly to one side as it sliced through its cord. Another swing, and Qing weaved and countered, slapping him across the face with the sword's scabbard. He didn't have an equal weapon, but he handled the range with better proficiency. Ming was elated. [color=peru][b]“Oh shit! In the face!”[/b][/color] It wasn't enough to do more than irritate and further enrage. But that only served Qing's purposes further. What little focus the man was able to still muster around the bloodlust the blade thrust upon him. Another wild slice and Qing again seemed to slip and disappear like a mist, as if evaporating beyond the strike and reforming with full balance to present his own strike to the side of a knee, an elbow, any joint to slow and present further advantage. With a thrust, Qing thrust the saya into the sword wielder’s face, his nose exploding in a sudden bloody mess. A blind swing followed and Qing ducked and followed through smacking him in the chest with the sheath. [color=peru][b]“Yes! Kick his ass!”[/b][/color] Exclaimed Qing’s one-man cheer section. Qing furrowed his brow. He still depended on the man to keep coming though. If his confidence dipped, he might try to as well. Which was unacceptable. No. This had to be resolved here and now. Another big baseball swing. Qing stepped back, and then advanced through with another thrust to the face. [i]No, you idiot. Not like that. C’mon. Thrust and parry. It’s a sword, not a baseball bat.[/i] He advanced again, and whilst his opponent made a big wind up, Qing thrust the saya into the swollen strawberry on his face that was once a nose once again, sending more blood sailing across the alleyway. [i]C’mon, you moron. Like I’m doing. See how effective thrusts are.[/i] Another huge blind swing. Qing audibly sighed, stepped through and slapped him on the back of the head with the scabbard once more. Then when it came, he barely managed to miss it. Another slap to the face, and suddenly he found himself looking at the curved point flying directly towards his own eyes. He weaved around, and staggered an off-balance escape. Barely dodging the thrust. [color=peru][b]“Whoa… Watch it there.”[/b][/color] Ming Tian said, seconds too late as any kind of viable warning if he’d needed it. [i]Alright. So you’ve made him more dangerous, and taught him some of the basics about how to actually use a sword now. So what are you going to do about it, Qing?[/i] Qing once again created space and took up a fresh stance anew. The message that this was a new fight now, sending his opponent's confidence surging, or perhaps it was little more than bloodlust. He broke in with a charge, the blade held in two hands above his head. Qing intercepted the blade with its sheath held overhead. Protecting from the strike. He deflected the slice, and then through a counterpunch to his head before stepping back, once again creating space, holding the saya pinned to his underarm, and held in place resting across his wrist. His opponent looked up from the concrete and rubbed his head where the blow had connected. Liu exhaled deeply, and felt the chi stirring within himself, brimming with as yet untouched potential. A low growl came and the blade squealed against the asphalt as he once again found his feet, dragging it’s point with him in a way that was in no way respectful to the craft of the genius who had produced the weapon – cursed or not. [i]Is there any mind left in there at all?[/i] All Qing could sense off of him was malice, so rich that it seemed to charge the very air with his hatred and foreboding. The man drew the blade shoulder height. It’s point aimed squarely at Qing’s heart. Qing watched his grip. It was still wrong, but the attempt was mostly right. He circled out and took the space firmly between Ming Tian and the swordsman. [i]Breathe in.[/i] The first step brought power. Qing read another charge. [i]Breathe out.[/i] His chi swirled and sluiced, time seemed to freeze. The moment of truth. Ming Tian watched as the man charged his friend, then finished with a sudden thrust, the blade plunged deep into the depths of his friend, halting just before the hilt. [color=peru][b]“Q—ing..?”[/b][/color] With one hand Qing grabbed the back of the other man’s neck, and grimaced. The other man seemed stunned. He tried to pull the blade back but couldn’t. Qing’s left bicep was aglow, surging with chi. The wielder of the blade adjusted his grip with horrible technique and tried to pull it free with both hands. Only for Qing to suddenly twist the saya which he’d been holding in both directions. Two meaty clumps fell to the ground. His opponent was agape, and as yet incapable of registering the pain. His thumbs were gone. Qing stepped back, with the blade in its rightful place in the saya, held against his side. Satisfied with the blood sacrifice the Muramasa blade dropped all the way in to the hilt. [color=white]“E—Everything..?”[/color] Was all the man could say. [color=white]“You took [b]EVERYTHING![/b]”[/color] He dropped to his knees and held out his open hands, no longer able to hold anything – least of all that which promised him his destiny. And the fact that Qing couldn’t be sure of what the man’s state of mind truly was before it was infected by the darkness of the blade, was the only reason he didn’t take all that remained of his opponent. A sidekick to the face of his kneeling opponent, drove him once again into a pile of garbage bags, and the horror Hudson had been subjected to had finally come to a close. [color=peru][b]“What the Hell was that, bro?!?”[/b][/color] [/color]