Blade of Destiny

Chapter 1: Museum Raid

He shivered as the rain pelted him mercilessly. The moon cast a dim light over the building, and his athletic figure was illuminated for a moment by the flash of lightning, giving an almost ominous look about him. Of all the nights to do this job, I have to pick the one that's got a raging storm; he scolded himself as he checked his combat suit for all of the necessary equipment.

"Let's see here...pokeball...check. Glass cutter...check. Gun...check. Dexter..." The small computer embedded in his sleeve flashed to life.

"Yes, sir?" the machine asked in a mechanic, yet masculine voice, before being answered with a smack from its owner.

"Shut up." He rolled his eyes and continued his mental list. "Dexter...check. Earpiece..." he patted himself down, searching for the machinery. This is the last time I let Max put all this crap on me.

Finally, he found the earpiece and ran a hand through the ebony hair that clung to his face. "Brock, you read me? I'm on top of the museum now."

"Yeah, but the storm's giving off a lot of interference. If the signal suddenly goes dead, that'll be the reason. Max has been monitoring the police airwaves, and they're unusually on edge, so make this an in and out job, got it?" a voice answered, dripping with bass.

"Yeah, whatever. I won't take too long. Security in this place looks pretty light. Shouldn't take any more than thirty minutes, max. Go ahead and send Dexter all the info. I don't want to be shooting blind out here. Don't wait up for me," he added playfully as he sneezed loudly.

Brock chuckled through the earpiece. "Bless you. All right kiddo, we're going under radio silence. I'm sending Dex the files now. Call me if you need me." His end of the conversation clicked off, leaving the young man all alone on the rooftop, shivering from the downpour.

He raised his arm to stare at the screen imbedded in his sleeve. "Now you can talk, Dexter. Did you receive the files from Brock?"

"Yes sir. The target is approximately 409 yards away from our current position. I've already hacked into the museum's security system...would you like me to display the camera images on the screen?"

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a small object and nodded. "Yeah, go ahead. Have you spotted any of the guards yet?"

"I've counted seven guards, three on the first floor and four on the second. They seem to follow a strict patrol...would you like me to also display the quickest route around them?"

"Yeah. Alright Dexter, I need you to be quiet. I don't want a repeat of Celadon, got it?"

"Yes, sir. Going into sleep mode," the machine replied before allowing the screen to die out. The young man approached the large dome that lay on the roof and placed the glass cutter on it, preparing to enter before his wrist began vibrating violently.

The young man growled and flicked the computer back on. "What the hell is it Dexter!?" he hissed at the screen.

"Sir, may I suggest a different approach to entering the museum?" He scoffed and threw his hands up in the air.

"Fine, Dexter. What's your great idea?"

"Well, there is a heating duct to your right. I suggest you use that as your point of entry. Not only will cutting the glass have a moderate risk of triggering the alarms, but rain will fall inside, signaling your arrival. The heating duct should provide a safe way inside; and also dry you off, leaving no wet footprints."

The young man was surprised; that actually was a very good idea. "Well, Dexter, it seems that you're actually useful after all. Where would I be without you?"

"Either dead or in jail, sir." The young man rolled his eyes and pulled out a small screwdriver and removed the screws from the vent. Slowly, he crawled through the stifling duct, barely able to breathe in the heated air. Finally, he spotted his exit and removed the grate and dropped to the marble floor without a sound.

The thunder rumbled outside, and lightning briefly lit the darkened hallways of the building. He swept his eyes across the area and ducked behind a glass case that housed a large Magikarp skeleton. Flicking on Dexter, he checked the map for the location of his target.

He chuckled to himself. Just my luck, it's not too far away. The flashing red dot on the floor plan that displayed on the computer screen indicated it was only a few rooms away. He turned, only to duck back into cover of darkness, barely avoiding being spotted by a passing guard.

I'm getting sloppy. Slowly, he peeked his head out in time to see the guard disappear behind a corner. Letting out a long sigh, he checked the area again before darting off in the direction of his target.

Ash was amazed as he crept through the corridors of the museum; tons of priceless heirlooms and artifacts were housed here. He grinned; he might have to come back to make a quick buck on the black market from these. Finally, he reached his prize, and gasped at what lay before him.

A large broadsword sat in the middle of the glass case, supported by two metal brackets. The hilt was made of gold, and glistened in the moon light that shined through the glass ceiling. There was a small impression in the middle of the hilt, and it was obvious something was placed there before. However, the most impressive thing about the weapon was its blade.

Instead of being a metal blade like he was expecting, it seemed be made of a translucent crystal, shimmering in the brief light that the thunder provided. Inside of the blade, various colors swirled about, as if someone had dropped a number of assorted ribbons into a glass of water. Ash stared had as he neared the glass case, reaching into his back pocket and removing the glass cutter. He read the description of the artifact that was etched into the stone below the glass.

"This amazing weapon was found in the ruins of Alph in the Johto region. The archaeologist who discovered this artifact reportedly collapsed moments after finding it, after eyewitnesses described seeing a green light flash from inside the ruins. The weapon is believed to be over 6000 years old, a treasure of the ancient civilization that used to live in all three of the regions."

Ash stared hard as he approached the case and removed the glass cutter from his back pocket. Suddenly, the trail of yellow shimmered brightly for a second and large flash of light filled the room. Ash screamed out in surprise and fell back as the light blinded him. His head felt like it was burning; his mind kept telling his body to get up and run, but it wouldn't obey, instead choosing to lock up and freeze. The burning in his head began to intensify, until it got to the point where he thought his mind would explode. Then, as suddenly as it came, it vanished.

Ash's vision blurred as he groaned and rolled over onto his back, waiting for his vision to clear before he would get back up. He blinked hard, and soon his vision cleared; but he was soon regretting it.

He was staring in the barrel of large shotgun. "Ah hell," he said out loud as he tried to get up before the sound of a shell being loaded into the chamber halted his movements.

"Move and I swear to God, I'll pull the trigger." Ash raised his eyebrow and scoffed.

"Since when did they start giving flashlight cops shotguns? I was expecting mace in a worst possible scenario." The older guard, who seemed to be in his fifties, growled and pushed the weapon further into Ash's face, was obviously annoyed by his smart remark.

"Shut up. Now I want you to stand up, slowly. Any tricks and you'll have to learn to cut your steak with one arm, got it?" Ash nodded and slowly rose to his feet, keeping his hands above his head the whole time.

The video screen on Dexter suddenly clicked on as Brock's face appeared on the display. "Yo Ash, is everything going all right?" The guard glanced at the small computer embedded into Ash's sleeve; and that was all the time Ash needed.

In a display of blinding speed, Ash dashed over and slapped the barrel of the shotgun out of his face. The guard cried out in surprise and pulled the trigger, sending a large spray of buckshot from the barrel. Ash grasped the gun and sent a swift kick to the man's shin, audibly snapping it in two.

The man never had a chance to scream out in pain as Ash delivered a crushing blow to the man's temple and knocked him out. He crumpled to the ground, his weapon clattering loudly on the marble floor.

Ash grabbed the guard's shotgun and cocked it, ejecting the empty shell to the ground and loading a fresh one into the chamber. He glanced over to the glass case before looking back to the gun in his hands and shrugging. "To hell with it," he said as he raised the gun to case and pulled the trigger.

A loud boom was followed by a crash as the buckshot ripped through the delicate glass and shattered it upon impact. The alarms began their shrill scream, drowning out the crunch of broken glass under his feet as he approached the sword and strapped it across his back into the sheath that he had brought with him. Now, time to get the hell out of here, he thought as he turned and stopped dead in his tracks.

A large assault team stood in front of him, pointing various assault rifles and handguns at him. Apparently, someone had tipped off the authorities, and they decided to send in SWAT or some other kind of elite squad. The thunder clapped overhead and the lightning flashed, giving an ominous look to the men clad in black.

Dexter chirped as it came to life and spoke to its owner. "Sir, I've just detected a message over the police communications line. They're sending a special team to protect the sword. They might be there already," it stated as Ash scoffed.

"No shit, Dexter."

Next Chapter: The Shootout