The pawn shop always seemed to have a thick and oppressive atmospheric pall to Esai. It was more of a palpable mood of eerie silence and reverence that he deliberately worked to maintain. It was easy, considering most of the surrounding residents of the neighborhood never frequented his shop as patrons. They knew enough about the purpose of Esai's storefront to never stray near it or the dilapidated stores surrounding it. Thus, when Esai received visitors, it was for one of two purposes. The first being the issuance of the Sword's weapons and the second being the return of the weapons to their ceremonial storage berths in his shop. It was seldom, if at all, that anyone visited the premises for anything else, which made the next sequence of jarring events extremely novel.

The harsh scathing headlights of a midnight passenger sedan pierced the storefront unexpectedly, jarring Esai from his contemplative reading. The car, now easily recognizable as a Triumvirate sedan, recklessly jerked up onto the curb, almost angling to ram itself into the store's plate glass display window. Esai rounded the glass counter just as the chirping of tires ceased and the swirling smoke of burned rubber passed in front of the sedan's high intensity headlamps.

Esai easily recognized the silhouetted shadowy figure that raggedly stalked toward the front door of the shop. He noticed a considerable departure from Cain's surefooted and purposeful stride. Esai's distinct powers of observation allowed him to immediately interpret Cain's rage and anger from just a few seconds of watching him. The store's door violently flung open as if a storm had made landfall against the shore. A blood soaked and hunched Cain stood in the doorway, his muscular frame heaving with every frantic breath. His fury was apparent, such that Esai didn't even need to meet his white-hot gaze to understand his state of mind.

"Do you know," the figure rumbled ominously.

The edge and anguish in his question eked through the space between them. In all of Esai's experiences, he recalled few that could penetrate the confident, firm exterior he presented to foes and allies alike. Cain's eerily quiet whisper was in direct contrast to his visibly homicidal appearance. It was the quiet, murmur-like question that warned Esai to tread lightly. Even though Esai was a Triumvirate Elder, he had no interest in provoking a legendary Sword who was already in a questionable state of mind. Esai responded with a measured tone in his voice. His intent was to express earnest honesty to Cain.

"I know you've taken the lives of at least two Swords. They brought all three blades back to me less than two hours ago. Is there truth to what they told me? Have you rebelled?"

Esai chose to probe passively, watching Cain's body language with intense scrutiny.

Cain didn't respond immediately. He was visibly attempting to deal with the series of events that shattered his life and led him to this point. He felt if he were to tell Esai what transpired, his remaining anger and rage would flee him, and he would be left a vulnerable sobbing mess. However, from a behavioral standpoint, there were inculcated values that were ingrained in him for as long as he could remember. An Elder had asked him a direct question, and he was obliged to answer. Even before he realized it, he was talking.

"Yes, I killed them. I killed them all," he choked out.

"They took her from me Elder... They took the only thing that had meaning in my life and destroyed it. So now," he paused as the frustration and rage welled up in his throat, making it difficult to finish the sentence.

"So now, you will exact your revenge by taking everything they value," Esai finished for him.

"It's a common theme that occurs in the lives of many in your line of work."

Cain, his gaze affixed on the wall behind Esai for their conversation thus far, now raised his head to look him in the eye. This act was a swift departure from his training. Swords were inculcated with an almost instinctual deference to their superiors. Thus, the Elders were revered as godlike entities, to be addressed with reverence. Now however, none of that seemed to matter to Cain.

"Will you try to stop me?"

Cain's question was a challenge to Esai rather than a reverent query of his intentions. Esai easily detected the rebellious, disrespectful yet desperate tone of Cain's question. While Esai had a healthy respect for Cain, he still needed to assert control over the situation.

"Rest assured that if I chose to stop you, you would have little say in the matter. You are a Triumvirate Sword first and always and I am an Elder. Regardless of my current standing in the organization, I have reached this designation for a reason," Esai said with all the intended steel in his voice that he could muster, meeting Cain's furiously panic filled gaze with a stalwart one of his own.

The air between them was thick and electric. Cain, reveling in his newfound defiance and lack of concern for himself, was beginning the arduous process of unraveling everything he had come to know. Esai fought to maintain control of the situation and enforce the proper order of their relationship, despite what knew had befallen Cain. He gazed down his nose at the frantic Sword of the Triumvirate. Sensing Esai's demand for discipline and respect, Cain saw a fleeting motivation flash deeply behind his eyes, indicating that he was struggling mightily with a decision.

"How many tactical teams are pursuing you," Esai asked.

"No Swords that I can tell yet. Just two four-person fire teams in cars," Cain responded, sensing that the tension between them had passed.

"I haven't released any weapons to Swords, so you won't have to worry about that. However, the tactical teams will be tracking the sedan you drove here via GPS. The Monitor feeds built into the sedan will have identified you as the driver and also connected you to me."

Esai detailed, nodding to the sedan, whose headlights bathed them in an illuminating xenon glow. Cain looked back over his shoulder at the car, realizing that it was a rolling sensor platform. It was laden with surveillance electronics, including the same video surveillance systems used by many police departments. He realized that Esai was now caught talking to him at length and that the live feed was most likely being reviewed by the Triumvirate Monitors in real time.

"Many have travelled down the path that you now stand on. You must understand that the descent into vengeance and revenge means that you can no longer be yourself. Every minute of your life that brought you to this point, all your vaunted skills, training and deeds are no longer sufficient to take you any further. You must transform yourself into a single-minded being of pure focus, will and drive. You will have to abandon any remaining sense of morality and any hesitation it can bring," Esai espoused.

"Vengeance is an implement of the self-righteous. Revenge is a much more honest, comforting and compelling force. I need revenge, not vengeance," Cain muttered soullessly, taking in Esai's words.

"I have nothing left. No morality and no hesitation. Just a barely containable murderous rage that must be quenched with the blood of my enemies," Cain snarled, simultaneously admitting these feelings to himself.

"People who seek revenge never see past the point at which they achieve it. Think about what you will do after you get your way. How will you live? What will you do?"

Despite Esai's admonishment, Cain, who had slumped slightly, now drew himself up. The edge crept back into his voice as he sensed the amount of time that was passing.

"Thinking past revenge means that I plan to survive this. That I have something left to live for and that I will keep perpetuating this existence I've carved for myself. My life is in shambles. I have nothing to live for except a promise that I made to my wife as she died."

Cain breathed in before uttering a phrase that was the antithesis of everything he learned in recent history.

"I will bring this organization to its knees and tear it apart from the inside out with my bare hands if I have to," he said with a hardening emphatic resolution that seemed to satisfy Esai on some level.

Esai inhaled and exhaled theatrically, expressing a transition in the conversation. As if on cue, two dark sedans screeched to a halt outside the dilapidated storefront. The cars quickly emptied, spilling the Triumvirate tactical teams into the street. They streamed towards the door.

"I've come here for the Sword of Cain. You don't need to keep it anymore. I'm in control of my life now. Not them. Not anymore."

With that statement, Cain turned, hungry for confrontation, and then the slaughter began.

The transformation was more visceral than Esai could have imagined. He had seen Swords in combat before and was well aware of their prowess and exceptional training. However, seeing one without limits or restrictions exacting revenge on hapless victims was something that he would remember for a long time to come. It wasn't so much that he was killing them as it was the brutality and soullessness behind his movements. In several swift maneuvers, Cain slaughtered each of the enforcers, barehanded. As he took their lives through various killing strokes and blows to their temples, throats and other exposed vital points, he ripped their sidearms from them.

He summarily slammed their guns on the glass counter near the rear of the store, not deigning to touch them as he tore through his enemies devoid of any armaments, as if to prove he needed no assistance in ending their lives. One after the other, their limp forms thudded to the dusty checkered floor of the establishment. Only two remained, seemingly intent on taking him down despite the carnage they'd witnessed as others tried their best to kill Cain.

They hurled themselves at him. He easily dodged their clumsy assault. With Cain closing the distance between them, they clearly weren't confident that their submachine guns could accurately hit him at such a close range. However ineffectual their hand-to-hand skills were in comparison with Cain's, they still were exceptionally well trained. Their coordinated attacks seemingly drove Cain to backpedal to deal with them.

However, Esai, from his vantage point, knew better. Cain ripped the tapestry covering the sword scabbards from the wall, revealing the variety of illustrious blades and ornate weapons within. With a smooth swiftness, he gripped the Sword of Cain and drew it in service of his own will.

"The blade reunited with its master," Esai whispered as the distinct shrill sound of the weapon echoed in the shop when the blade sliced through the air.

The Sword of Cain descended on the remaining survivors of the tactical team, cutting them down where they stood. Esai marveled as one of the most legendary weapons in the Triumvirate was now coupled with its equally powerful wielder. Much like two pieces of a puzzle, the blade seemed to respond only to its master's touch as it became an extension of his demonic will.

In a very unceremonious fashion considering the nature of the time he spent here a few hours ago, he brusquely snatched the sword's plain sheath and swung it over his back. The unremarkable Japanese long sword dangled loosely over his heaving form as he tightened the sash for the sheath around his chest. Looking toward the front of the store, Cain vaulted the counter where he had placed the variety of automatic weapons and pistols he liberated from the tactical team. As more individuals swarmed into the store, he ducked behind the glass.

It took a lot to leave an impression on Esai, but in this rapid sequence of events, Esai was awed. Somehow, Cain must have always known that the glass cases were bulletproof. The guns thundered in the hands of the tac team at near point-blank range. The rounds spattered against the glass without meaningful effect. It only took Cain seconds to immediately and vengefully capitalize on their mistake. Gripping the nearest HK MP5s he clacked the bolts on the guns together, aimed, and unleashed a storm of fire at the nearest figures.

While their vests struggled to disperse the kinetic impact of the rounds, the force from the stream of fire knocked them from their feet, stealing the wind from their lungs. A volley of fire ranged in his direction again. Anticipating the burst's duration, Cain finished exhausting the MP5 in his right hand and picked up the midnight-colored Tech 9 submachine gun on the countertop and sprayed the figures near the doorframe. Maintaining a suppressive barrage of fire with the Tech 9, he grasped another fresh MP5 from the counter as the one he was holding in his left hand sputtered out. Rather than reloading, he switched weapons now that the Tech 9 had exhausted its magazine. In repetition, as a weapon exhausted itself, he grabbed another from the bulletproof counter.

The sound of the firearms was deafening in the small space. The smoky haze and refracted muzzle flashes added to the confusion. Slowly, the thunderous chatter of gunfire died out as both sides ran out of ammunition. With two additional sedans pulling up to the store, Cain, now down to a simple Berretta, cocked the weapon in an inexperienced fashion and drew his sword in solemn yet defiant preparation.

While his training had taught him that Triumvirate Swords spurned the use of firearms, opting for the more traditional implements of their craft that were steeped in history, he found that firearms had a valuable and deadly utility. Even though Triumvirate Swords were forbidden from acquiring a proficiency with them, Cain found utilizing ballistic weaponry came naturally to him. In fact, he knew that other than the tactical teams and enforcement personnel, there was fabled to be another entire faction that trained to deadly proficiency in the use of modern weaponry in service of the Triumvirate. Knowing this however did nothing to abate his need to kill them all.

A killer was a killer and Cain was the best the Triumvirate had seen in a long time. When it came to taking lives, he was an unwitting and naturally talented artist. In demonstration of this truth, Cain began to wield his sword in his left hand, balancing the weight of the blade parallel against his forearm and grasped the pistol with his right. He knew that the teams rushing the door had superior firepower and recalled how ineffectual their guns were at close range. Vaulting the counter, he rushed at them. Sliding along the floor into their midst, he gave them no choice but to attack him hand-to-hand. He reflexively let the anger flow through him, releasing his newfound seemingly endless fury on them all. Esai, still rooted by fascination to the spot he was standing before the assault began, knew what he was watching.

"The birth of a new technique," he thought to himself.

Cain was untouchable with his sword. However, coupled with the gun in his right hand, he now used it as an additional instinctive extension of his murderous will. Being within physical striking distance of the tac team, he could now easily penetrate their vests by using his natural agility to dodge their close-range attacks. He brought the Beretta in close behind the exposed points of their vests and fired directly into their bodies. Simultaneously, the Sword of Cain raked its opponents, opening wounds, spewing blood and slaughtering its targets.

The level of chilling violence was unimaginable. Amidst a mass of bodies, Cain whirled and spun like a hurricane or tornado. Occasionally, the unmistakable bark of the gun could be heard, and its muzzle flash lit Cain's position. His assailants dropped in combinations of twos and fours from his onslaught.

When it was finished, he was crouching on the ground, breathing heavier than he had moments ago. He rested his hand on the hilt of his sword which was buried in the floor with his gun hand perched behind his back. The last attacker fell with a sickly thud into the pool of blood, bullet casings and bodies. Cain slowly rose through the smoky haze, untouched and unscathed as the penultimate victor of the conflict. Esai knew it would be the first of many conflicts and victories.

"The will of a dog that bites the hand of its master can be fleetingly furious," Esai warned.

"You understand what will happen now. They will show you no mercy and send everything they have after you. They will be relentless and merciless. Are you prepared for the coming storm that you have brought on yourself?"

He was a fearsome force to be reckoned with. Esai regarded Cain as such while he lifted something from the wall, his respiration already returning to normal. With little regard for the dead, he kicked their bodies out of the way, wading through the pool of death, and gripped a remarkably ornate mask from its mount. Momentarily devoid of the traditional deference he knew he should afford Esai, Cain angrily retorted.

"I didn't bring this on myself!"

With his voice uncharacteristically haggard with emotion, he continued.

"They brought it on themselves. They did this to me. I don't need to fear merciless prosecution from them... I welcome it. It will save me the trouble of finding them. You still don't seem to understand that I will maim and kill anything that gets in my way, to the point that they will fear and cower at the mere thought of me," a furious Cain seethed and hissed in reply to Esai's question tightening his grip on the mask in his hand.

The Ryūkō Neko Men, or Dragon-Tiger Mask, was a traditional an emblem of stealth and ferocity within the ranks the Triumvirate shinobi. With sweeping gentle lines that contoured gracefully around the wearer's eyes and cheekbones, the mask's design was an ominous fusion of the animal kingdom's elegance and a mythical dragon's awe-inspiring presence. Its feline-inspired features were softened by the fluidity of its curves, yet the sharp, angular edges were reminiscent of a tiger's fangs to serve as a stark reminder of the wearer's lethal prowess.

Adorned in shades of durable porcelain, the mask was crafted to cast an imposing shadow, its presence alone enough to chill the marrow of the wearer's foes. The eyes were narrowed and piercing and forged the wearer's vision into a focused predator's gaze, while the snarl etched around the mouthpiece invoked the raw, untamed power of the wild creatures that inspired its design. Esai watched captivated as Cain placed the mask over his face and drew a thick, brown and dusty leather trench coat around his blood-soaked physique.

"The Mask of Indemion," Esai remarked, changing the subject.

" Indemion was one of the greatest battlefields in centuries past. Many say it was the birthplace of the Triumvirate. The mask was worn by the loosing faction to illustrate their fearlessness in the face of overwhelming opposition. It was a pauper's attempt to fight the inevitable. How poetic it is that you adopt it now."

"There will be more coming. You can't let them take you. Come with me," Esai said, as if accepting Cain's irreverence and honesty.

"Wait," he said emphatically.

He turned, climbing through the shattered plate glass, sprawled bodies and wrecked furniture to emerge from the shop, standing in front of the scathing light of the headlights of the Triumvirate vehicles. Esai saw Cain bend low, in front of the headlights of the lead car and murmur something into the camera and audio pickups he knew resided there before quickly turning to leave.