The Card Club were sitting under a tree by the side of the road, resting and laughing at funny-looking people that walked by. Joanie was asleep, but Tiffany, Ashley and Pat woke her up.

"What's going on?" she asked

"We got you a present, Joanie," said Ashley.

"Really? Cool! What is it?"

"Well," said Tiffany, "We thought you might be tired of not being able to fight like the rest of us, so we got you a weapon!" Tiffany smiled, her eyes glittering. Joanie stared at her blankly.

"A weapon?" she asked

"T'weren't me idea," said Patsy, "I wanted to get ye a bottle of finest Irish whiskey, but I were out-voted."

"Come on, Joanie," said Ashley. "Don't you want to fight with us?"

"Not really . . ."

"Well, too bad!" said Tiffany, and she led Joanie around to the other side of the tree. On the ground, there was something wrapped up, about eight feet long and a foot and a half wide.

"It's huge!" said Joanie

"Open it!" commanded Tiffany

Joanie unwrapped the present. "It's a . . . really big sword. Yeah. Woo-hoo."

"It's a Zanbatou," explained Ashley, "The largest type of sword ever forged. It was designed to take out a horse and its rider in one swing!"

Joanie was still confused. "You guys want me to fight with . . . this?"

"Yeah, it'll be funny!" said Tiffany. "You know, the smallest one of us fighting with the biggest weapon? It's irony, Joanie, come on!" Joanie didn't laugh. "Oh, it's not that heavy. Here, I'll show you."

Tiffany walked over to the sword and grabbed the handle. She tried to lift it, but it wouldn't budge. "What the heck is this thing made out of, lead?" she asked. She kicked it in anger and stubbed her toe. "Polting sword!" she cried, and began to rain blows on it from all sides.

"Hey, let's get Ben over here," suggested Ashley. "He's good with swords."

Ben was a little ways away, staring at a rock on the ground. He was silent.

"What's wrong with you, anyway?" asked Selma. "You've been staring at that bloody rock for twenty minutes now!"

Ben said nothing.

Selma bent down to examine the rock, and saw there was something on it. A knife was run halfway through the blade into the rock. It was holding a card there.

"What is this?" asked Tiffany, who had come over with Patsy and Ashley.

"Where's Joanie?" asked Selma

"Oh, we left her by the tree," explained Tiffany. "I think she's still trying to pick up her present." Tiffany bent down and pulled the knife out of the rock.

"Well, what is it?" asked Selma

Tiffany looked at the card in her hand. "It's a jack."

"Shma! I know that! What does it mean?" Selma looked at the card. "There's something written on the back. Read it."

Tiffany flipped the card over. "It says, 'The other jack is waiting for you, Ben.'" She turned to Ben. "What does it mean?"

Ben started. "What? Huh? Oh, I don't know."

"Yes you do! You stared at it for twenty minutes! It has to mean something!"

"No, it doesn't mean anything. It's just a random card. It's not for us."

"It has your bloody name on it!" said Selma

"Well, I'm still not going to tell you guys."

"Oh yes you are," said Tiffany. "Get him!"

Tiffany, Selma, Ashley and Pat all jumped at Ben and started attacking him. They turned into one of those clouds of dust with arms and legs sticking out that represents a fight. Shouts could be heard from the cloud, most of them Ben's.

"Stop it! I'm not going to tell you! Tiffany stop kicking my shin!"

The cloud of dust rolled on down the road.

Meanwhile, Joanie was still standing by the tree, looking at the Zanbatou. "Stupid sword," she said. "I don't want this." She picked it up with her left hand and started spinning it between her fingers over her head. "This is dumb. How can anyone fight with this? It's too slow. Hey, where'd everybody go?"

It was late, and hour or two after midnight. A lone figure was moving across the rooftops of buildings in a large city. The figure moved gracefully from roof to roof, leaping over gaps as if she wasn't even paying attention (she wasn't, really). What made it more impressive was that the figure was skipping as she did this. And humming. And reading a book.

The Card Club had stopped at a bar in the city. They stayed long enough to watch Patsy drink until he made himself sick, and then they split up. Selma went out to skip along rooftops in the dead of night, because that's just what a ninja does.

Selma heard a noise. She paused. Then she skipped on again.

Selma's book flew through the air and hit the person following her in the nose. "Ow!" he cried out

"If you want to be a ninja," said Selma, "You really should learn how to make less noise. However, I am impressed that my book didn't knock you off the roof. Why are you following me?"

The ninja following her stood up. "Are you a member of the group known as Card Club?"

Selma was startled. They only referred to themselves as Card Club when they were talking to each other. How did someone else know about it? "Yes, I am," she answered cautiously.

"Led by the man called Benshin Himura?"

Selma was startled again. His name really was Benshin! "I wouldn't call him the leader. He's just sort of there."

"In that case, I am following you in order to kill you." The ninja drew a sword and charged at Selma.

"Well, this'll be fun," said Selma. She threw one of her ninja stars at he charging ninja. Just before it was going to hit the other ninja vanished into the night.

"You see," he said, "The real key to being a ninja is not stealth but speed." He jumped behind Selma and slashed across her back. Except Selma wasn't standing there anymore.

"I agree," said Selma, and her knife slashed across her opponent's ankles.

He staggered back, clutching his wounds. "That was pretty good." He stood up. "But now you must face my ultimate attack!" He started spinning his sword, occasionally switching it to the other hand. The sword spun faster and faster, turning into a blur that continued to switch between his right and left. "Ha ha ha!" he cried. "You can't predict which side the attack will come from until it's too late!"

He charged at Selma. She thought quickly. Using the ancient ninja art of Enie-Menie-Minie-Moe, she decided to block to her left.

"Ha ha! You guessed wrong! Your kodachi is on your left, but my attack is coming from your right!"

The other ninja swung his sword with both hands at Selma's neck. Her right hand flashed, and then there was a loud CLINK.

"Then it's a bloody good thing I've got two of them."

The other ninja just stood there. Selma brought the knife that wasn't blocking his sword around and slashed across his gut. He stumbled back and fell off the roof, grasping the edge with his fingertips. Selma walked over to him.

"Who are you?" she asked

"I may be defeated, but our leader is stronger than I. He will come for you, and all of your friends."

"What?"

"The fight between our leader and the one called Benshin is destiny."

"Right . . ." said Selma, and she started to walk away.

"Um," said the ninja. Selma turned. "Do you think you could help me up?"

"After you just tried to kill me?"

"Um, yeah. I'm, uh, slipping."

Selma edged closer to the ninja, and then stomped on both his hands.

"Ah, crap."

The ninja fell to the ground. Selma watched him fall until he disappeared in the dark. "Splat," she said, and skipped away.

As Selma skipped over the gap between two buildings, in the alley below there was a very different scene. It was quiet, which was odd considering it was an alley behind a bar. Normally the alley behind a bar should be the site of drunken brawls and other sordid situations, but this one was completely silent. Except for the guy throwing up in the corner.

Patsy was hunched over, clutching his stomach, regurgitating several quarts of alcohol that he had consumed earlier that night. Ashley had the unfortunate job of holding his hair back while he vomited.

"Ooooh," said Patsy, "I'm sorry about this, Ashley."

"That's okay," she said. "But why is it always me that ends up doing this?"

"Well, everyone else just sits there until ye volunteer. Blaaaaargh . . ."

"You know, I wouldn't even have to be here if you'd just cut your hair."

"No! Me hair is me pride! I'm nothing without it!"

Ashley was about to say something further when she noticed another person in the alley. He was standing a long way away, but she could see that he wasn't very tall. "Hello?" she cried. "Who's there?"

"Oh! Excuse me," he said. "Are you in the Card Club?"

"Yes," said Ashley. Then she thought, "Wait a second! How does this guy know about Card Club? And how did he know I'd . . ."

"Oh good," he said. "For a second I thought I'd made a mistake." The man held out his hand a suddenly a blast of lightning shot out and hit Ashley on the shoulder. She spun in the air and rolled back several feet.

"I won!" cried the stranger. He started jumping up and down in some sort of bizarre victory dance. "I won! I won!" He walked up to Ashley to see how badly he'd hit her.

"Aye, ye've won," said Patsy, "But ye've also forgotten the first rule of fighting in an alley: never forget about the drunken Irishman pukin' in the corner! Braaargh!"

Patsy let out his drunken battle cry and swung his big stick at the stranger's head. It hit with a resounding THUD and the stranger slumped to the ground. Patsy crawled over to Ashley.

"Are ye all right?" he asked

"Yes, but . . . what's that noise?"

Patsy looked up. He could hear something but he couldn't tell what it was. It sounded almost like . . . no, it couldn't be. But it was getting louder. He looked down the alley, and saw there was another person approaching, walking slowly. It looked like he was carrying a large, lumpy bundle, with sticks stuck in it.

"It sounds like . . . it sounds almost like a song!" said Ashley, raising herself up off the ground. "But what is it coming from?"

Patsy was still squinting into the darkness. Just then, he could see the second stranger clearly. "It's a . . . a . . . bagpipes!"

The man was short, about the same height as Patsy, also with red hair. He was wearing a kilt, and sure enough, he was playing the bagpipes. Just then, the song changed. At first, it had been a sweet, almost pleasing melody (or at least, as pleasing as a melody can be on the bagpipes). Now it was a horrifying cacophony of noise, flowing between different minor keys, often not in a key at all. The notes changed tone, sounding no longer like a bagpipes but like a demon singing while drunk.

Patsy and Ashley grabbed their heads to shut out the noise. They covered their ears, but it did nothing to block the song. "My brain is melting!" screamed Ashley

"Don't worry, Ashley," said Patsy, "We'll be drinking whiskey up in heaven soon enough."

"Ha ha ha!" cried the mad bagpiper. "My song shall split apart your souls!"

The song rose to higher and higher pitches. Patsy waited for the blackness to come, but the song would not let him go unconscious. Just then, he started to hear a new melody. This one was calm and soothing. It started soft, but grew louder and started to overpower the horrible song of the bagpipes. Patsy's head cleared, and he sat up. He saw the bagpiper, his face red, blowing as hard as he could to try to beat the new song. For one second the ear-splitting melody returned, stronger than before, hitting Patsy like a wave and knocking him into the wall. Then, the bagpipes exploded. The bagpiper stood there, stunned, then ran over to the first man, picked him up, and ran off. "This isn't over yet!" he cried

Patsy looked at Ashley, who was clutching her staff, staring intently at where the bagpiper had stood. "Ashley?" he said, waving his hand in front of her face. She blinked, and seemed to come out of a trance. "What happened? Where did that other song come from?"

"Oh, that was simple," said Ashley. "You see, sound is just waves in the air that hit your eardrum. By using my magic, I could manipulate the waves in the air and create my own song. Because my music wasn't based on lung capacity, I could make my song louder than his, and he just kept blowing until his instrument exploded." She stood up and looked at Patsy. "Silly Patsy. Only losers use instruments to make music. Did you understand a word of anything I just said?"

"No, I don't know much about that, but there's one thing I do know."

"What?"

"I need a drink."

A few streets down from the alley of deadly noise, Tiffany was in an antique shop looking at merchandise. It was so much more convenient to go when the store wasn't open. No customers or owners to worry about. She was trying to decide if there was anything worth stealing when the door was knocked in and crashed into the wall a few inches away from her, shattering a shelf of antique China.

A very angry-looking man stood in the doorway. "You Tiffany?" he asked

"Yeah, who are you?"

The man didn't answer but instead charged at her with his fist raised. She dodged out of the way and his fist hit the wall, blowing a huge hole in it and sending a shockwave through it that shattered the glass in the windows.

"Wow, that's a lot of power," thought Tiffany. She threw herself at him, elbow first. She hit him in the stomach, and the double impact was heard as always, but this time the target didn't explode or get sent flying back ten yards. He clutched his gut, then brought both of his fists down onto Tiffany's back. She went straight through the wood floor into a basement. Here were the real valuables, ornate furniture hundreds of years old, priceless masterpieces of art, and of course, the safe.

The man jumped down after Tiffany, trying to land on her, but she was too quick. She rolled to the side, and struck out with her foot, hitting his chin. His neck made a sickening SNAP, but he reached up with his huge hands and snapped it back. Then he brought his fist down on the ground where Tiffany was. She moved, but not fast enough. The impact hit just next to her, hurling her into the wall through a Van Gogh painting. The man tried to finish her off, but got his fist stuck in a statue of a centaur. As he tried to free his hand, Tiffany moved in front of him and hit him on both shoulders at the same time. He flew backward, completely shattering a 300-year-old chest of drawers.

"You know," said Tiffany, wiping blood from her lip, "We could sit here for hours just pounding each other into walls and priceless artifacts."

"Sounds like fun," said the man, and he charged at Tiffany again. She didn't move. Instead, she grabbed his fist with her hand, stopping it inches from her face.

"Or," continued Tiffany, "We could do this."

She let go of his hand, then quickly hit it with both of her fists, one on either side of the oversized paw. The sound of two sets of semi-simultaneous hits was heard, and then a sound much like the shattering of china that had been heard earlier. Every bone in his right hand was completely shattered. He clutched his hand and howled in pain.

"Oh, you big baby, stop complaining," said Tiffany, "I didn't hit you that hard."

There was distinct evidence to the contrary as her opponent's hand flopped like it was made out of Jello. "I'll get you for this," he said. "We'll fight again, and next time I'll win!" He started to run off.

"It's over? Really? Can't you just use your left hand?"

The man stopped, very confused. "My . . . left hand?" He stared at his left hand as if expecting it to move of its own accord.

"Never mind. Just go."

The large man jumped up through the hole in the floor and ran out of the store. Tiffany looked around and found the one small porcelain treasure that hadn't been destroyed in the fight. She shrugged and threw it against the wall. Then she grabbed the safe and headed off.

In the street outside the antique shop, Joanie heard a loud crash. "What was that?" she asked aloud. She walked on, and saw a man standing in an alley nearby. She walked up to him and tapped him on the shoulder. "Are you lost?" she asked

"No," moaned the man, "I'm looking for someone. If I don't find Joanie from Card Club my boss is going to kill me."

"Hey, I'm Joanie," she said.

"Really?" The man got an evil look on his face. "Well then, it looks like my job might not be so screwed up after all." He started to back Joanie into the alley.

"Wait, what are you doing?" she asked. "Why are you looking for me?"

"Well, I'm a member of a syndicate that is rival to your Card Club. For every person in your group, we have one that is a counterpart to them. I am the counterpart to you, the useless one."

"Hey! I'm not useless!"

"Oh come on, what do you do?"

"I, um, tell stories. Like this one time, Patsy and Tiffany were fighting, and then Tiffany punched his shoulder really hard, and then Ben told them to stop fighting, so Tiffany hit him and broke his nose, and Selma said she'd bloody stab them if they didn't shut up, and, yeah, it was cool."

"Right . . . Well, I don't think storytelling is going to save you now."

The next day, the Card Club prepared to leave the city. They all looked a little beaten up, except for Ben and Joanie. "What happened to you guys?" asked Ben

"Well, I fought a ninja on the rooftops," said Selma.

"We got attacked by a mad bagpiper in an alley," said Patsy and Ashley.

"I fought a big strong idiot in an antique shop," said Tiffany.

"Well, you see, I was in this alley, and then this guy came and he was really weird looking and . . ."

"Yeah, okay, I get it," said Ben. "But why were you guys all fighting last night?"

"We were all attacked," said Tiffany. "Wait, didn't you fight anyone last night?"

"No, I was just asleep in my room."

"Your room?"

"Well, someone's room."

The Card Club walked out from the town just as the sun was rising. They started down the road, but there was a man standing in the way. He was tall, taller than any of them, and he was wearing a samurai sword. The rest of the group kept going forward, but Ben held them back.

"Hello Ben," said the man. "It's been a long time."

"Yes, Joe," said Ben, "It certainly has."

"You know that guy?" asked Selma

"Yes, he is my opposite, my antithesis, my arch-nemesis. The contrary force to mine in the universe."

"How dramatic!" said Joe. "You could just say we were old friends."

"You're no friend of mine. You killed our master!"

"He had taught me everything I needed to know."

"Wait," said Ashley, "You two had the same sensei?"

"Yes," sad Ben. "He was the only man who was master of the Capitalism school of sword fighting. He took Joe and I on as his two apprentices, and trained us as samurai. Until Joe killed him in his sleep." Ben turned back to Joe. "But what are you after now, Joe? What do you want?"

"I dunno," said Joe. "World domination. Petty revenge. I want a lot of things." Tiffany ran up to Joe and whispered something in his ear, then ran back. "Oh, and I want the Holy Grail, too. But mainly, I want to beat you and your Card Club. So I've assembled my own little group. The PM's."

Five men approached Joe from somewhere down the road. They all looked badly beat up. One had bandages across his stomach and ankles. Another had a huge lump on the back of his head. A third looked sort of dazed, and his eyes had trouble focusing, as if he had seen something explode right in front of his eyes. The fourth had his right arm in a sling, with the hand hanging limp out of the end. The last of them looked the worst of all.

Joe turned to the last one. "What happened to you?" he asked. "You look like a stampede of elephants boxed you around all night?"

The man wavered on his feet. He looked around, and every time his eyes focused on Joanie he let out a little shriek. He was having a lot of trouble speaking. "I . . . I . . . I don't . . . know, sir."

"Meh, doesn't matter," said Joe. "As you can see, our first attempt to destroy you was rather unsuccessful, but that was just a test. We will crush you soon enough!"

"No, Joe," said Ben. "I have to stop you. Draw your sword."

"If you insist," said Joe, and pulled his sword slowly from his sheath.

"Hey," said Selma, "That sword looks the same as Ben's sword!"

"His is the brother of mine," said Ben. "They are the only two swords ever forged by one of the greatest sword-crafters in history. They are the same shape and weight, but exactly opposite in purpose. The Murasame and the Masamune. Mine is the Murasame, the Sword that Purifies."

"Oh, so then his is Masamune, the Sword that Corrupts?" asked Ashley

"Well, not exactly," said Ben. "The closest translation is, the Sword that Makes Rude Gestures."

Joe demonstrated the meaning of his sword's name as he made some pelvic thrusts toward some girls that were passing by.

"You're going to die, Joe!" said Ben. "Capitalism Style, Jack!"

Ben seemed to disappear and reappear as a spinning blur. He was a tornado with his sword surrounding him in a deadly ring. The tornado raced toward Joe.

"Ah, it looks like there were a few things our master never taught you!" said Joe. "Capitalism Style, Double Jack!"

A phantom sword appeared in Joe's left hand that looked exactly like his original. Joe began to spin too, except he had two swords spinning around him instead of one. The two tornadoes collided. Joe blocked Ben's sword with his phantom sword, then brought the Masamune straight into Ben's stomach. Ben coughed up blood and fell to his knees.

"You never even learned the Double Jack technique?" asked Joe. "Man, you really should have taken care of that before our master died."

"It's not over yet, Joe!" There was a blue fire in Ben's eyes, and then it was there on his sword as well. He ran at Joe, yelling.

"Ah yes, the dragon spirit in your sword," said Joe. "Well, I can play that game too." Joe closed his eyes and began to concentrate on his sword.

Ben stopped. "Oh no!" he said. "Not that!" He ran back toward the rest of the Card Club. "We've got to get out of here!" yelled Ben

"Why?" asked Tiffany. "What power is inside Joe's sword?"

"The Masamune is possessed by the awesome destructive power of . . . french toast sticks!"

The mocking look in Tiffany's eyes was replaced by sudden horror. As if answering, Joe's eyes suddenly opened, and a hurricane of french toast sticks flew toward the Card Club.

"Run!" cried Ben, and they all ran off from the deadly barrage of french toast sticks.

Joe and all of his cronies enjoyed a good laugh at the expense of the Card Club. Then one of them asked, "Hey Joe, shouldn't we have killed them? It would have been real easy to do it right then."

TO BE CONTINUED