In the near future, the dominant corporation that essentially rules Earth flies into a conflict with their oppressed colonies on Mars. Bowen, a skilled fighter with a twisted sense of humor, must work with four unique would-be heroes in order to set...
"Draw me not without reason, Sheath me not without honor." — A Naval Officer's Manual of the Sword
CHAPTER ONE: "Adrenaline and History Lessons"
Date: January 16th, 2048
Time: 6:00 P.M. (Los Angeles Time)
Location: Los Angeles, L.A. Convention Center
Among the bright lights in the center of a large auditorium was a simple ring drawn into the floor. Rows of stands on either side of the ring were lined up with onlookers, each of which had their eyes intensely locked on two fighters who slowly approached from opposite directions. A single referee stood in the center as he welcomed the fighters, both of which were donned in thick black pads and fencing masks.
As one of these fighters, Mark Bowen relished in the feeling. He turned to his right to see the sword handler approach him and extend towards him the hilt of a simple steel longsword, which he slid his fingers around the handle and took. A sword is like a bird. If you clutch it too tightly, you choke it... too lightly, and it flies away. Bowen had a perfect grip honed from years of training. As was customary for fencing, the blade was blunt and had been designed based on the longswords of the late Renaissance Era, broad near the hilt and tapered to a fine point. Something about the sensation of a solid steel weapon in his hands and an opponent in front of him gave Bowen such a high adrenaline rush, every drop of which he savored.
Once the referee called, "Fight!" Bowen's adrenaline spiked even higher as he and his opponent moved to the center of the ring. He could see the eyes behind the mask of his opponent were just as fiercely intense as his own and just as hungry to win. Despite the high adrenaline flow, Bowen's mind was calm and peaceful, analyzing everything about his opposition.
Bowen and his opponent pressed the flat of their blades together in the ring, feeling each other out. The contact lasted for only two seconds before the opponent shoved his longsword aside and attacked with an advancing horizontal strike aimed at his throat. Bowen took a retreating step and leaned back just enough to dodge the blade with less than an inch of separation. With the high adrenaline rush, the event seemed to him almost as if it were happening underwater. He watched the point of his adversary's longsword sweep under his chin as he narrowly dodged it, before his aggressive nature compelled him to advance with a vertical strike of his own.
His opponent was quick, pulling his sword back and blocking expertly. The sound of steel slamming against steel rang in the air as the blades connected, a sound that was almost orgasmic to Bowen's ears. After several ruthless and tactful exchanges, Bowen waited for the right moment when his opponent made a mistake, leaving a strike and recovering in a guard too slowly. With lightning quick speed he thrust his blade underneath the opposition's guard and landed a perfect hit in his adversary's ribs.
The referee blew his whistle and called three points for Bowen. Six more to win the fight. The next rounds repeated the thrusts, blocks, and contacts resulting in Bowen's victory. When the last round ended, the referee brought Bowen to the center of the ring and lifted his hand with the longsword. In victory, he remained calm and collected.
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