Operation : Pacifica, Isopropyl
by CyberPyro (cybrpyro@infinet.com)


        "Hey!" yelled Frederick as he chased after Samhain and CP,
  "What *are* you two doing?"  They ignored him and kept running.  Their
  superior physical condition allowed them to outdistance the pest in a few
  moments.  He stopped, holding his knees and panting as a squad of armored
  spongin ran past him.


        "I have to see this," he panted.  He was never one to miss a
  joust, and this one looked as though it would be interesting.



...




        "Where?" demanded CP as he ran through the Ren Faire crowds.


        "No idea."


        "Great."  Samhain suddenly snapped to one side, heading
  sharply away from the dusty trail.  CP chased him between two merchants'
  tents and into the forest.  Lacking the encumberance of armor, the Jihaddi
  lost little speed as they sprinted through the woods.


        "There," said Samhain, pointing to an open field.  The two
  Jihaddi emerged from the woods, well ahead of their pursuers, and waited.
  CP removed his leather jacket and hung it on a tree.


        The Claymore slid from its scabbard with the slightest of
  noises, testifying to the blade's perfect, well-oiled state.  Samhain drew
  his katana and wakizashi and waited.



...




        "There are the mean Jihaddi!" exclaimed one of the lead
  spongin.  He crashed through the foilage and stepped into the field.  His
  helmet held several branches torn from trees and bushes.


        "Who planted the Chia Pet on your helmet?" asked CP.


        "And *who* is responsible for that tacky attire?!" demanded
  Samhain.


        "Well, gee," shuffled the spongie.  He'd only wanted to kill
  the Lord b'harnii-hating Jihaddi and now they were asking him about his
  armor and clothes.  His fellow spongin crashed out of the woods behind him.


        "Surrender or die!" yelled the spongies' leader.  Both
  Jihaddi laughed uproariously at the demand, much to the minions' chagrin.


        "How stupid can you be?" chuckled CP.  "Now pretend like you
  can use those swords."  The six spongin closed on the Jihaddi, blades
  flashing in the sun.  Frederick emerged behind the spongin, happy to observe
  a private jousting.


        The lead sponge stabbed towards Samhain with his long sword
  only to have it parried by the wakizashi and forced from his hand.  Samhain
  whirled in a tight 180, the katana hissing through the air.  Chain mail,
  cloth, and flesh parted ways as the ancient Samurai weapon inflicted lethal
  damage.


        The spongin with the Chia Pet helmet swung his battle ax at
  CP, leaving his flank undefended.  The spongin screamed in pain as the
  Claymore pierced the armor and clove internal organs.  The corpse toppled to
  the earth as CP kicked its thigh and pulled on his sword.


        Samhain easily side-stepped a spongin's clumsy over-head
  morning star attack.  Rather than stepping further away, Samhain instead
  stepped closer to the spongin, putting the back of his shoulder to the
  spongin's chest.  The wakizashi in his left hand flashed under his right
  armpit, fitting perfectly between a pair of ribs and plunging directly into
  his enemy's heart.


        The spongin Captain swung his bastard sword at CP who
  brought his Claymore up in a tight, powerful arc.  The two blades connected,
  the Jihaddium and Owsenite blade easily slicing its tempered opponent in
  half.  The sponge Captain staggered backwards, mortal fear in his eyes.


        "NO!!" he yelled, holding up his arms for defense, as the
  Claymore whistled towards him.  The Great Sword of the Scottish Highlanders
  neatly clove through upheld arms and removed his head.


        In a blur of motion, Samhain and CP dispatched their last
  opponents.  Six fresh spongin corpses lay about the blood soaked field as
  the noise of someone vomiting reached the Jihaddi's ears.


        "MY GOD!" whimpered Frederick.  "You killed them!!"


        "Obviously."  CP wiped the blood from his blade and sheathed
  it.


        "I thought this was a joust!" he cried.


        "Do you honestly think someone who carries an authentic,
  pristine Claymore around in public doesn't use it?" asked Samhain, cleaning
  his blades and resheathing them.


        "Besides, they attacked first.  What are we supposed to do,
  let them kill us?"


        "I ... dunno," said Frederick, near tears.


        "We've business to attend to," said CP as he walked up to
  Frederick.  He handed the cringing man a business card.  "Call this number
  if you need a good therapist.  We're outta here."



...




        "Well, you two pieces of deadwood look happier," observed
  Elektra as she pulled up beside CP and Samhain.  "Did you have fun?"


        "Oh yes!" answered CP.


        "Let's get back to the Naval Yards.  We've alot of work to
  do," said Samhain.  The two friends climbed into Elektra, closed the doors,
  and  disappeared down the road at a speed approaching 120 mph.


        "How about dinner?" asked CP.


        "But the Naval Yards..."


        "Can wait.  I'm hungry.  Italian?"


        "Hmmmm."


        "I know this wonderful place off Market Street..."


        "OK, deal."


        "Then we go back."


        "We'll see," smirked CP.


...


        In the end, the two friends stayed out most of the night
  clubbing, drinking, dancing, and thoroughly enjoying San Francisco without
  the pesky annoyances of the Hell Wyrm.



- CP

Copyright, Pyrokinetic Productions, Inc.  (1996)