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Staccato rolled out of the way leaving the trail of metal from what was once the lamp post, it was dry and as hard as the metal normaly is, the only diffrence being that it is not a lamp post any longer.

He then followed up by using the momentum of his roll to get to his feet he ran to another nearby source of metal. This time a bench that was nearby the trainstation. He was rather fast on his feet and assuming that the added wait of Bert's larger size would slow him down. Staccato would reach the bench before his opponent could get to him.

Staccato would this time touch the metal, which would allow him to shape it at a moment's notice. He would pull his finger away from the bench turning it into a thin twin edged blade which had a rather sharp point.

Staccato's own power's over the blade, being more localized than Bert's would begin to compensate for the changes of the blade causing it to stablise into it sharp edge again.

Staccato would then charge at his opponent and preform the move from which his first name came. He would attack with a number of qick stabs, using his arms speed as the main force for this attack. This you see was his favoright weapon and is the form that he most often put's his metal weapons in. Meaning that it would be more stable against any outside force trying to change it.

His blade would targe many vital yet non-lethal area's starting with a stab toward each shoulder joint, one attack for each hip joint, two aimed at the knees, and then finishing with an attack ment to peirce one of the boy's kidneys. The whole maneuver would take less than half a minuet once he was in range and if successful would result in the boy being unable to finish the fight.

Staccato looks down at himself and steps back. Then allows the blade he was using to drop from his hand. He steps back again and puts his hands up.

"looks like you won this match... Nice job."

Staccato turns and reaches for his finger pulling off the cylander and heading down the street. In search of some place to treat his wounds.

He was never one to play in a fight to the death. He would rather not die himself and he did not intend to take another person's life without need. Bert had gained Staccato's respect. That was something that was not easily gained.

((You win))

A black chevy van with rust eaten sides circled the road around the fountain park in the center of Barton Town. A handmade bumper sticker, the kind made from some cheap kit, wa on the rust blotted chrome bumper. It read: My Prosthetic kid F*#@ed up you flesh bag child. Another on the other side simply said: Wanton Destruction. The driver, the sun shining over his metallic left arm, glanced sideways, spotting a group of park security gaurds conversing by the fountain amidst the crowds of late summer pleasure seakers. A boy and a girl stood behind the gaurds, throwing pennies into the fountain from a pile on the ledge left by their father, who was talking on the cell phone a little distance away. Nothing but a bump in the curb prevented the van filled with 1,818 kilos of amonia nitrate and fuel mixture from swerving into the park from the city streets. The driver aimed for the police officers at the fountain, reving his to pick up speed after losing momentum at the curb. The security gaurds opened fire as the driver shouted.

"All hail Ymiristan you fascist prosthetic hating son's of bitches!" he screamed, "Suck on this Barton!"

A bullet struck through the windsheild and entered the driver's forehead, but the van went going full speed for the fountain laden with cheap explosives. Before the people had a chance to panic it would be over, the force of the explosion shaking most of downtown Barton. A geyser of water would stand amidst a crator where the Barton fountain used to be as broken glass, crumbled masonry, and body parts fell across the park and nearby neighborhoods.

Staccato sits up in a hospital bed after hearing the news. He was still bedridden from his fight yesterday and was rather surprised by what he saw. Even though he had heard the explosion, he had no idea were it had come form.

"dam those people and their wars. I just can't figure it our. What is the point in fighting in a war like that if you are just going to die anyway? I am sure there are better ways of decide who is right, Such as a tournament of the best fighters." Staccato rants.

"You should get some rest now. Your in no condition to worry about such things right now anyway." The nurse says as she gently pushes Staccato back down into his bed.

Staccato sighs and the drifts back off to sleep.

Faeror stepped of the train into barton train station. He wanted to check out a stadium he had heard about that was supposed to have powerful fighters. Walking over to a map he saw that he had to travel to it by going northeast of his current faceing. There was a flah of light and he was gone.

(postin in stadium)

The news footage of the fighting in Ymiristan was broken by a live wire broadcast from General Bakkar himself, interposed with footage of the Omega weapon descending, if that was possible.

"People of Gaia, this is General Bakkar, defense minister of Ymiristan. I'm sending this message through the wires only out of desperation, as few of our people expect to live to see the dawn. At present, our nation has repulsed a massive undead attack, but it seems that is not enough. The Ymiristani government has made many mistakes, one being the aggression we've shown to the world concerning Aekea, we apologize for those transgressions. Now, let me be frank with you, we are under attack, Edward Yaits the III is dead, and a weapon of legendary power is approaching the national HQ. The terms issued the Ymiristan leadership are simple, we must surrendor or die. If we surrendor, Yaits city will become the ultimate necropolis, on the very doorstep of Durem. I have.... the leadership of Ymiristan has choosen.... to go down fighting.... even if such a struggle means certain death. We will not make it easy for these bastards to conquer world, we will fight until every last drop of Ymiristani blood has been absorbed into the rocky soil. Tonight, Ymiristan is fighting a battle that will decide the fate of the world, and I'm damn proud to know I'm on the right side for once. Over and out!"

For the past few days now Staccato had been spending his time at home, in his family’s nice house. You would be surprised how small a home they had considering they backed much of Barton with their money when it was starting out. Then again they did not want to draw much attention to themselves and would rather put the money back out there anyway. Though, for the most part though they had a nice lifestyle.

Staccato was actually reading the newspaper at the moment, looking to see if there might be anything in there about someone willing to do a little fighting. He had, had no such luck though. It seems that most of those people that liked fighting had either gone off to be part of the short lived war, or they were checking out what was happening in the oceans.

Staccato sighed and decided that he should just enjoy life for a while. He was sure there would be someone to fight him again eventually.