One Piece 1. Warlords, Chapter One

Walking home from work seemed to be one of the few, small treasures Loren got from life. Each step seemed to be less and less trying on his feet as he drudged down the sidewalk from the place he worked to his mother's house. His plain black garb stuck out particularly this bright and almost cheery day, like a mark of shame, or perhaps a blot on the surface a bright future. That was certainly the way he thought of things. He had it in his head that this walk was simply a Point A to Point B exercise, with no real meaning aside from the fact that instead of working, he would be doing absolutely nothing worthwhile. Chatting on the web might just be the highlight of his afternoon. That was better still than working fast-food at _Poppin' Weasels_. He briefly considered going to his friends' apartment, but rejected the idea due to the fact that he was still unable get the smell of secondhand smoke off his clothes.

He took out his phone and used the reflection of it to check his face, or rather, to pointlessly criticize himself on it. He had medium-to-small lips with a freckle on the left side of his upper lip. He always thought that was strange, but sometimes bothersome, particularly when he was joked at as a kid for having chocolate on his lip all the time. He had an even more fragile self-image back then. His eyes were strange, dark-brown around the pupil with green flaring around the outside edge. The amount of green varied; his right pupil had always been noticeably larger than his left. His eyebrows were a decent thickness due to his caretaking, but dark brown just like his full head of hair. It went to touch his shoulders, where un-straightened it would form a wave at the bottom, which he never particularly enjoyed. He didn't want to cut either though, so he straightened it every morning. He also noticed he had slight dark circles under his eyes, for how long or why he had no clue. His nose was quite boring, nice and round, didn't protrude from his face terribly much, but not very small either. His ears on the other hand were strangely small, but his hair covered that when it wasn't all up inside his work-cap. His expression was always so laid back, seldom serious, so easy-going despite how much he worried. He also looked a tad-bit bored right now, and upon contemplation quite a bit lately. He told himself to work on it mentally.

Caught off guard while he pondered his miserable existence and what his short-term plans for it were, he jumped dramatically when his friend tapped him lightly on his shoulder. It was his co-worker and long time friend, Lauren. They met when he was in high-school when they begun to poke fun at each-other for having nearly the same name. He had tried a romantic relationship once with her, but after fighting it he realized she wasn't his type. Her best friend, on the other hand, most certainly was. She always had been. Lauren had a nice build, just above average. Her long hair was a different shade of brown every week it seemed, and she was a rather big fan of short-shorts, though still remaining quite classy in dress. Despite still having an enormous crush on him still, she managed to always seem to be there for him. She was an invaluable friend indeed.

"Hellooooooo?" she said to him as his mind wandered further and further away from where he was physically. "Are you still there?"

"Yes, yes, I'm here. Didn't think you got off work the same time I did," he replied. He pushed his long, brown bangs from out of his face, and in doing so had to re-adjust his generic work cap. He knew she didn't, so this was quite the surprise.

"Well she let me off early. Apparently I'm not quite as useful as I thought I was!" She laughed. "Neither am I…" Loren said. "What're you up to tonight?"

"It's just another night of doing homework, followed by a late night movie. I'm still in school, you know. What about you? Off to go partying or some college guy stuff?" He sighed. She was a senior in high school. He would be a sophomore in college had he not dropped out. His grades were stellar, but he saw no point in furthering his education in an unplanned career. He hoped college would show him the way, point him toward his dream job. Loren was unmistakably mistaken. After a tremulous relationship, he was robbed of his last straw. Finishing, he swore not to return until he knew what he wanted. He would work and pay his mother rent until he did find his drive, his fire.

"Yeah, right. I'm a bozo with no career plan and stunning good looks, and I'm not even in college anymore. I'm not worthy of greatness, just fast-food." He knew that she would throw herself on him, which she did, and that she would remind him there was still hope, which she also did. What he didn't expect was that she would flat out agree with him on the second notion instead it phasing her out a bit. They began talking again about world affairs and how she would one day succeed in life as a writer, even though they both laughed about that almost literally being utterly impossible.


	2. Warlords, Chapter Two

Their conversation got him thinking, the conversations about the status of the entire world, anyway. The world, in his opinion, was taking an unfortunate turn for the worst. Every day was there was more news about the conflicts in the Middle East being resolved more and more. The newly formed Holy United Nations, or HUN for shortness and convenience, was to blame every time. Granted, this used to sound like wonderful news, after the Desert Wars kicking in, but the solution was actually worse than the original problem. With the combination of the Catholic Church and the Allied Nations, the war on war itself was being… won. But he still saw the cost. The Church of course had first dibs on lands after the turmoil, with the visage of the savoir to boot. The Roman Catholic Church had once again risen to the most worshipped religion in the world. As an Atheist, this put Loren at grave unease, mostly because anyone with that much power was sure to eventually abuse it, and it just happened to be the group that he had the most qualms with as a whole. As far as religions went, Roman Catholics were by far the "worst behaved," throughout history. He didn't quite like that at all.

They had also begun a campaign to recover these special objects that have been spotted mostly throughout the United States. It is rumored they were of mysterious origin and use. Loren, along with the most of the rest of the informed, thought it was hogwash, propaganda. This was information from a special blog that he took some interest in, whose main contributors is said to have found one. He wouldn't ever prove it, probably because he feared that the Vatican would take priority in finding both it and him.

Lauren was a firm believer in the things though. She was set on finding one for herself, and exposing the stupid game HUN was trying to pull. Why, she never let him know. Her only secret from him, aside from the fact that she loved him still, was this. She was a regular blogger on the site, and the one who introduced him to it. But he didn't take much from word of mouth, partially why he was faithless. But at least this was especially interesting. She told him that she agreed with his disapproval of the HUN's shenanigans, but it seemed as if there were more to it than she let on.

He arrived at his house, waved good-bye, and walked through the door to his home. He looked back on his car, which was still waiting for him to drive that he refused to sell, and continued to go to his room upstairs. He closed his door behind him and looked around. His innumerable posters lined the walls, from Deadfool, to Captain What, to his Lookouts ones. A real nerd was he on the inside, but it was a side few got to actually see. He calmly plopped himself down on his bed and buried his head in his hands. He felt wretched. Work was exhausting, and he nothing to look forward to but his dream girl, Lauren's best friend, to perhaps text him again, which happened less and less with every passing week.

They had begun to be friends again after not talking during the entire period he was in college, but she lost interest in him the less he saw her in person. He expected this to happen, but dreaded it all the while. Romantically, Loren was a pessimist. It always led to his relationships to take a turn for the worst, and because of it was always under the assumption it was his fault, whether it actually was or not.

He looked over and spotted a small package on his desk that wasn't there prior to his departure that morning for work. It was his order of keychains! He got up, smiling gleefully, and ripped it open frantically. It was two of the same keychain, an obscure brass-looking hook atop a ribbed orb. He took one immediately out of the package and took off everything but the hook and one chain link. He nabbed his rope-chain necklace he had been saving for this occasion and attached the of the keychain to the rope which he removed all but the trinket and a single link, turning the hook itself into a pendant. He thought that the gold-looking pirate hook was simply the coolest thing he'd ever seen and decided it would make a sweet-ass necklace. He stuck it on top of his black, button-up shirt he got from _Sizzling Subject_ (the store for the coolest of the cool) around his neck. As soon as he put it on, he got a text from his friend. The friend. He looked at his phone. "New Message from Marissa," it read. He read the text.

"I think I've done something bad, Loren," He was immediately concerned, but felt absurdly protective as well. "What happened?" He replied.

"I ate something, Loren. I think it was what Lauren keeps talking about. But the only difference is that everybody seems to just love me. I'm scared!"

He set the phone down and pondered for a minute. She ate something? What was it, like a candy bar, or a vegetable or something? Nevertheless, she would become the target of the HUNs for certain if this really was the case. That was, once they found out. Until then she was safe he thought. The Fruits actually existed though? Loren couldn't help but to feel a rush of excitement, knowing that in this boring world there such a myth actually existed. It was like the world had put on a new face to him. After a long, drawn out breath, he texted her back. "Are you sure it was one of them?" As he waited thoughts circled around in his mind, drawing plans for helping her hide from society. The mountains? The thick of the city? He went through it all in his head. What could he do for her? Would she let him?

The phone buzzed violently, whereupon picked it up in haste. It read: "Pretty sure. It's pink with a strange pattern on it. It didn't have any seeds either. I got it in a package .What should I do?" He responded quickly. "Don't panic, and don't let anyone else know. I'll come see you after work tomorrow." Seconds later, he got a reply, simply saying "okay." He hadn't even set the phone down yet, for he found himself lost in thoughts about her, worrying about her. He left his position on the side of his bed, and went to sit at his desk. He plopped his elbow down, and held up his head as he imagined new worlds where they fought for survival as a team, he as her eternal protector. But why did she get one? What significance could she possibly have? Maybe it was random. There were no official reports, so it was all merely hearsay before. And did HUN have their agents there, in the little town in California where he lived like there were in the Middle East? Who knew?

He passed the rest of the night researching on his laptop, looking for information about the looking at all the information he could find out them. He even attempted to contact the admin of Lauren's blog, shooting him a message. Whether he'd get it or not though was completely unknown to him. After searching the blog for hours, all he managed to find out was that a main poster newly blogged that he felt as if he were the only one who ate one. He said something about tremendous power, the earth rumbling beneath him. None of it made any damn sense.

Eventually he got tired, and after 1 in the morning had rolled by, he passed out on the desk. And that night, for the first time in a long time, he had a dream. And in the dream, he wandered through a limitless desert one step after another, searching for Marissa through the dunes. No beads of sweat danced across his forehead, and there were no signs of life in the vast wasteland. It was a dream of absolute solitude, and even amidst unconsciousness he felt alone. After what felt like hours, he saw her in the distance. Marissa, literally the object of his dreams, was in his sight. They ran to each-other, arms open for embrace. It was typical romantic goo that he dreamed about of course. The distance in the dream didn't seem to matter a bit, for it was no time at all before they were in arms length. But once they embraced, his love melted away into sand, blowing away in the wind. He, however, had become unable to move. He looked at himself, and found stone. He was looking upon himself and finding a statue in his body's place. He was paralyzed and frightened. Fear intertwined into his dreams as he panicked. He closed his eyes, and woke up to the new day, face molded up into the desk and all.


	3. Warlords, Chapter Three

The walk to work that day was weighing on him in every way he could imagine. His feet were tired already, his mind was racing about Marissa, and he was dirt poor. Being dirt poor was naturally always in the back of his head, and always made him feel a little more shitty than he already felt when he realized it. Every step made him more and more exhausted, despite the fact that his work was a mere six blocks away. His dirty work clothes didn't help his current mentality either. He felt like a pig, even though he had one change of clothes and there was no way in hell he would do laundry once per two days. But in any case, he felt awfully dirty, and it didn't help either.

Work was particularly normal for the first part of the day, being the morning and lunch shifts. He stood around nonchalantly taking orders at the register as he gazed at his co-workers frantically struggling to keep up at the drive-thru, he himself not doing much work at all. This all of course was because he was able to manipulate the situation rather easily, he thought. He dodged around actual responsibility like a lazy ninja.

Later on that day something peculiar happened. His old friend from college in the mountains visited. It was his buddy Mitch, and he was quite the cool guy. He had clothes Loren always envied, coats included. Loren had a weird coat fetish. Big coats, small coats, suit-coats, trench-coats, he loved every kind of coat. And Mitch had many due to having a considerable amount more money than Loren did. Mitch was wearing quite the coat today; it looked like an enormous Navy Captain's coat. The only difference was that the collar was significantly more pronounced, which he thought looked incredibly awesome.

He spoke in a voice much more confident to Loren than ever before. He smiled broadly and walked like he was walking atop the world entirely. It made him feel significantly insignificant, him being behind the counter at _Poppin' Weasels_. "Hey Mitch!" he shouted out. The weird part about what happened that day is that he didn't reply immediately like old Mitch would. With a wide smirk on his face, he walked up to the counter where Loren was. His tread appeared that of a king, one of self-assurance. Another thing he envied. Once he got up to the counter he made direct, unwavering eye contact.

"Loren, the world is changing. It's about time to start changing with it." Loren countered with, "I told you to stay away from acid, maaaaaaaaaaaaaan," and Loren laughed by himself. It was how they used to speak to each-other. "I'm serious," he sharply replied. "You and I are instrumental. A catalyst is on its way to you as we speak." And with that he walked right on out of the restaurant. He stood there, bewildered. But he knew, deep down inside that what he said actually made all the sense in the world. More sense to him than anything ever had. He just didn't know why. It just felt right.

The rest of the day he felt out of his mind, trying to work out the meaning behind what Mitch had said. But after zoning out for a couple more hours, he headed home, intending to get ready to go visit Marissa. He was in for a real treat.


	4. Warlords, Chapter Four

He arrived at the house, and briefly plopped his ass down on the sofa. He was still in a state of awe at Mitch's words. Between that and his blatant concern for Marissa, he was at a loss with what to do with himself. He settled on getting to Marissa as his immediate priority, and went up to his room to go and get changed. He threw on his favorite pair of faded blue jeans and his pinstripe button-up, and pulled his necklace out from under his fresh shirt. But only after he was ready to go did he realize that there was a parcel on the top of his bed that his mom must have brought up.

The box was about the size of a football, and had no sender address from what he could tell. What Mitch had said rumbled through his mind like a firecracker, erupting in separate, disorganized thoughts. Was this the catalyst? With great anxiety he tore the box open, and could barely believe what he saw lay inside. It was a fruit, he guessed. He didn't know what else it could be. It had a stem. It looked… fruity. Marissa did say that it lacked any seeds, perhaps this is why. But he couldn't comprehend it. All this over some stupid fruit, he pondered. He couldn't even accept it, a reality too dumbfounding. What on earth would a prominent world power want with food? Not only that, but why was it there? What possible significance could he possibly have? Perhaps he had just as much significance as Marissa, perhaps less. Whatever the case, it was a fruit, and somebody had sent him one. How kind of them.

And coincidentally at that precise moment a bizarre hunger overtook him immediately. Whether it was a hunger for food or a hunger for something else entirely, he had no clue. He just wanted it in that second more than anything else. He picked up the fruit in haste and noticed that there was a note placed cleverly underneath the item.

It read: _**"Show me what you're made of.**_

_**Yours truly, The World."**_

Loren chuckled a bit. It appeared someone had a sense of humor. He peeled off the bizarre light-tan exterior with a spiraled, squiggly pattern off the fruit, very similar to how one peels the skin off of a banana, and consumed the contents greedily. The fruit lacked any flavor at all, it was as if he were eating plain yogurt with the complexion and texture of a banana as well. But there was something else to it, something he couldn't quite place. And there were no seeds to be had. Funny, a fruit with no seeds, he thought as he swallowed.

What he couldn't place then he could place in a couple of seconds. It was dry. So very, very, dry. It was as dry as the desert itself. And soon his mouth became completely dry; his spit disappeared in his mouth in an instant, but still he ate. He took bite after bit, holding it from the bottom, until there was nothing left of it.

Soon everything felt like it began to dry up. His face first, then his torso, and then his limbs succumbed to what seemed to be an immediate desiccation, as if the moisture had left his body entirely. He looked down at his hands, and despite having lost feeling they looked quite the same. His body continued into a paralyzing numbness for several minutes. His body had become a dry prison for his screaming mind; he couldn't move at all now. It was like in his dream, when had turned to stone, but he looked fine this time, for which he thanked in the back of his head.

After sitting on his bed for several, enduring minutes he slowly regained feeling in his limbs, and returned back to normal in due time. But he quickly collapsed backwards, to lie down on his bed for at least a couple of minutes. He didn't know what had happened, or if anything else would for that matter. For a second he even considered that it was a prank. Perhaps some sort of drug was inside the genetically altered fruit made for him to trip, as with acid he surmised. He just wanted to make sense of the situation where there was none to be had.

Sooner than later he remembered that he had somewhere to be, and that was at Marissa's house. He got up in a hurry, and shot her a quick text saying that he was coming. He didn't get an immediate reply, but didn't fear the worst. He ran over in a hurry. He found for whatever reason that it didn't take much energy at all to run as he went the numerous blocks to Marissa's. She was in the neighboring suburb community. So he had quite the jog ahead of him. He put off the event in his mind as meaningless, just some sort of weird, non-consequential experience. He wasn't positive after all that it was what she was talking about, her and Lauren, whom he could not wait to tell this about.

He also failed to notice the slight trail of sand he left as he sprinted to save his would-be lady-love.


	5. Warlords, Chapter Five

He slowed to his jog to a walk outside of Marissa's one-story house. It seemed so plain, which was totally ironic for such an extraordinary girl, he liked to believe. Her parents were plain too, even on the inside. Her room was a bit more outstanding, but nothing too different from what any normal teenage girl would have. He just attributed it to the way that the universe worked, which was with a sense of humor.

Loren knocked on the door four times. He knocked four more. He noticed then that the door was already cracked open, and peeked inside. He couldn't believe his eyes for a second. There were both of her plain parents and her sister, but in the forms of stone statues. He was immediately overcome with an immensive sense of horror at this picture. This day just made less and less sense as it went on. He even suspected that maybe this coveted object was supposed to be of some Devilish magic, he thought. But whether or not this was true or not mattered little to Loren, and frankly discounted it as superstition. What did matter was finding Marissa and helping her, and figuring out what the hell was going on.

The statues were standing up in the living room, which the front door opened up to, which was seemingly an open space. It looked like they were facing something. Someone was probably in that place. They also appeared… happy, perhaps even jovial. They looked even as if they had faces of admiration, their eyes wide with huge smiles. But where was Marissa? The first place he knew to check was her room. That would make the most sense if she didn't simply bolt from her house in desperation. Silently he walked over to her room past the living room, into the hallway to the left; the door was ajar. He peered inside to find the boring, typical teenage girl's room he guessed. The one thing that set it apart, that made it unique that he could spot was the array of magnificent pictures that adorned her walls, all in black and white print. They were absolutely beautiful, and he was always taken aback when he was in her room. So taken aback, in fact, he almost didn't hear the sobs from the closet.

"Marissa! What happened?" He exclaimed, facing the source of the noise. He walked over to take a look inside.

"NO, DON'T COME ANY CLOSER! GET OUT!" She screamed, and pushed him away from the closet door. He stumbled back, stunned, tripping over himself as he tumbled onto the side of the bed. As he picked himself back up, he looked and saw her eyes leering at Loren from within the dark space. "What happened in there, Marissa?" He shouted back at her. With that, she returned to crying, tears streaming down her face as she struggled to control herself from bawling. "I… I don't know," she managed to say in a whisper. "They started screaming about how much they loved me again, and it was starting to get… annoying. When I wanted them to stop… it… it…" After a couple forced back sniffles she could explain no further, as she began to weep again. At that point he felt some simple reassurance might do the trick.

"Don't worry, I'm sure we can find a way to get them back to normal," he said softly, approaching the door. "And I think I think I may just be in the same boat. Just now I found one of them Fruits myself." She gasped, knowing the consequences as he did.

"What… Have you noticed anything weird?" She asked astonishingly.

"Well, I just felt really, really dried up when I first ate it, like a raisin, but other than that nothing. But it might help with whatever happened to your family. The first thing you need to do is come out of the closet…" He giggled a bit at himself, despite the fact that in front of him was his traumatized crush hiding out and crying in her bedroom closet.

"Okay… But prepare yourself for whatever. Tell me how you feel too, maybe that'll help." Marissa opened the closet door all the way and stepped out weakly. She was wearing a tight, grey t-shirt and a black skirt. The grey t-shirt had a skull design with snakes crawling through it, which Loren always thought was awesome. She had long, dyed black hair and brilliant facial features. Just a small enough nose, perfect lips, and stunning slate-grey eyes were enough to make a man crazy at first sight. She wore the right amount of eye shadow and was just the right size, skinny but with curves to kill.

What came over him was an unnatural, fierce force. It was a force of every form of love he could and did ever feel for her. Admiration, adoration, infatuation, he felt it all like a hurricane. She walked out of the closet literally perfect in every way, despite her looking like her parents had just died. The tears down her face smearing her make-up failed to smear her absolute beauty. She stood upright and attempted to smile, but her weak attempt showed through to him like the perfect storm. His face was beat red, and he was literally paralyzed. "Well?" She asked faintly. "How do I look?" He was speechless though, unable to form even a basic sentence. But he strung the events together in this time where he couldn't move. The only thing that had changed about her was her becoming more perfect than she already was. The effect was nothing short of magical, which couldn't be a coincidence. Her family succumbed to the effect, and surely must have been turned to stone because of it, which could only mean…

But his thought wasn't completed, as in an instant he himself was turned to a stony state in a blinding flash.


	6. Warlords, Chapter Six

He opened his eyes and found the ceiling of what he was pretty sure was Marissa's room. He looked around, and found Marissa sitting on the bed with her head in her hands, apparently crying again. After a couple moments of consciousness, he realized that he had woken up on what appeared to be a small bed of warm, grainy sand. But the sand didn't feel foreign to him at all, rather, if felt as if it was part a part of him, that the sand was just an extension of his body. He could feel the floor through the sand, through every single grain. He felt as if he should be completely perplexed as to how this could even happen, but he found himself unable.

His upper half rose first from the sand, and it felt like strands of hair lightly fell from his skin all over his back onto the ground, though he found all his hair intact. Marissa didn't seem to notice the movement as he looked back around to see if anything had recently changed. The only change he found though was the substantial amount of sand. It was very golden sand, the color of sand found in a dry desert, like the Sahara he guessed. Before he would figure out the meaning of this, he had to ask Marissa what had happened during what felt like the extremely brief time he was unconscious.

"Marissa," he said to her calmly. She jumped, and nearly fell off the bed. When she looked at him, her beautiful face portrayed both fear and awe at the same time. "You… you…" She launched onto him in for a longing hug. "You're okay!" She cried happily. "When you turned into a statue like the others, you started to crumble, started to turn into that sand! I thought you had actually died for sure!" She continued to sob, but more happily than sad this time, as she jumped down to hug him. It made him ecstatic that she showed such concern for him, love for him even, although he became paralyzed whilst being hugged.

"How did you come back?" She asked jovially.

"I don't even know that…" He replied. "It probably has to do with the fruit that I ate. That's the only thing I can think of. Did I…?" She nodded.

They ended the embrace. Her face seemed quite a bit worse than last time, suggesting that she had been crying for some time. "It's been an hour since you did that. You should try and see if you can control it or something," she suggested to him. "Alright," he replied simply. He took a stance over the bed of sand after Marissa took a step back, and stood where he spread his legs slightly and held out his fists, like a character was gathering Chi. He couldn't think of anything better. He focused on the sand, still feeling like a part of him, to rise up in a pillar before him. He imagined pulling the sand up, similar to how he would raise his arm, in his head. Sure enough, without great difficulty the sand raised a foot and a half from him in a foot diameter. Keeping his concentration together with great trepidation, all of the sand from the floor became a part of the pillar, now touching both the floor and the ceiling.

When Marissa started clapping, instead of quitting he felt the urge to impress her further. He reeled one of his arms back, and imagined that the sand leaped up and formed around his arm, forming a crude blade extending from the sand wrapped around his forearm. As soon as he stopped imagining it, he realized that as he was trying to imagine it, it had already happened. His mind made the movement of the sand become a reality on the spot, and Loren was promptly impressed with himself. It appeared to be twice his arm length, extending out the door to her room, and quite thick. But this was puzzling, because there had not been that much sand on the ground. He must have grown it from his hand, created it. He smiled wildly; he was proud of his newfound power. He was sand now.

Now the two of them stood in her room, caught up in the bewilderment of his sandy prowess. The only sound they could hear was the sand shifting within the make-shift weapon until the front door met a sharp knocking at.


	7. Warlords, Chapter Seven

The sand coming from his arm retracted into his skin, rejoining his body. He didn't notice because it was an immediate reflex to the knocking at the door. He quickly motioned with his hand for Marissa to stay put and that he would go answer the door. Marissa quickly nodded no, and he realized that this wasn't actually his house. He half-chuckled, and nodded. He followed her to the living room, and remained out of sight from the door, knowing that she would crack it open as to not allow the visitor visibility to the statues in the living room, to which Marissa winced at as she passed by. She went to the door, and before she would unlock the door to open it was met with another string of forceful knocks. It sounded like the knock of law enforcement, or an angry boyfriend he guessed.

Unfortunately the first one seemed correct, as when the door was cracked open and she peered outside the crack the man pushed through and began to yell at her violently. "ARE YOU MISS MARISSA CALDWELL?" She staggered backwards staring at the man as he did, although he prepared a fighting stance. The man was wearing a light blue and white uniform with faded gold trim, as seen on his shoulder flashes. He failed to recognize the badge he wore, but noticed a large cross and shield patch on the front of his uniform. Strangely he was wearing what seemed to be a typical military helmet with the same insignia on the front of the helmet. Loren immediately assumed the worst, the official crusaders of his time.

"You're coming with me for immediate interrogation, under Sacred Statue 142A!" He yelled at her, not waiting for her to respond. As he reached for her he threw a hard right at the man. But Loren was the entire living room's length away from the official, so to compensate for the distance he tried to shoot out some sand. It ended with a drastically different result; his hand as well as his entire forearm detached from him and launched at the stranger. The stranger in question had an extremely surprised look about him as Loren threw the attack. As the fist flew through the air with dynamic speed at him the appearance of the limb faded into that of an arm-and-fist-shaped sand missile. Loren didn't bother to look down at his new stub for an arm, but instead trusted his imagination to spawn a new arm, which it did in the opposite process as the missile.

The fist landed quickly in the man's jaw, rushing past Marissa's head as she struggled to get away. As he took the blow which pushed him back substantially, she managed to run to Loren and get behind him, peering over his shoulder in a defensive stance.

"Another one?" He shouted at Loren. "What a pleasant surprise. You're both coming with me," he said with a new, stoic voice. He pulled out what looked like an extendable beating stick from his belt, and readied it for combat. Loren in response threw up his fists, ready for a fight. But a fight between them was very abruptly and unexpectedly interrupted.

Loren lunged at the man, readying a left hook, but stopped dead in his tracks. What appeared to be a black katana made of thick, black oil-like goop with a purple glimmer was protruding out of the man's stomach. Loren was about two seconds from being dangerously close to the mysterious weapon. Just as he stopped mid-lunge, the blade was retracted and the officer toppled over. He saw the man's back as he fell face-first to the ground. Huge and shiny, the letters "H. U. N." were on the man's jacket.


End file.
