ELSEWHEN

The market in what was once a thriving city was in disarray. Lord Haze had finally met his bête noir. He could not contain the rage that quickly creeped up on him and colonized his mind and body and completely over-ruled his better judgement. He was usually calm but on this day, not even his subordinates could recognize him.

He had never felt such strong desire before. He had met his equivalents in the numerous parallel universes his people had colonized but the desire had never been that strong. The figure had moved swiftly in the shadows creeping in the back alleys. He had cut across the market swinging his falcata with reckless abandon, his target in sight.

The figure had escaped his blade narrowly. It had cut through the black hooded cloak. It was a young woman with kinky hair held in a low pigtails.  He hesitated at his next swing. She jumped back and landed on all fours. Her movement reminded him of a wild cat. He stood tall and loosed his grip on his falcata that was rested on his left shoulder.

“My name is Mortador Haze,” he started, “You will be my opponent…”