ARCHER
“There!”
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They fire as one.
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Bolts whistle through the air—But the Blue Ninja is already rolling forward, a blur of blue and shadow.
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He unsheathes his sword mid‑motion, the steel singing as it cuts the air.
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SWWHIP
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He slices two archers cleanly at the waist. Their screams overlap as their bodies fold, armor clattering against stone. The remaining archers scramble to reload, but their too slow. The Blue Ninja leaps foward — landing on an archer’s shoulders. His knees slam into the soldiers collarbone with a crunch, pinning him like a child demanding a piggyback ride. Before the archer can scream, a dagger slips into his throat.
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Quick.
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Precise.
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Intimate.
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The Blue Ninja backflips off the dying body, letting it slam into the wall with a wet, bone‑splitting crack.
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Two archers remain. They drop their crossbows and unsheathe their swords, exchanging a terrified glance.
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Then they charge.
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The Blue Ninja doesn’t retreat. He meets them and steel clashes — sparks spit across the corridor.
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He blocks both blades with one fluid motion, rolls between them, and cadapults upward unnaturally. He twists mid‑air, turning to face them, feet locking around one archer’s neck. In a single, horrifying motion, he spins — a full, perfect three‑sixty — dragging the archer with him. His sword flashes once.The second archer’s throat opens in a red spray across the stone wall. The first archer claws at the Blue Ninja’s legs, choking, panicking but the Blue Ninja tightens his ankles.
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Hard.
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The archer’s face turns purple as he tries to pry the assassin’s legs off him. Blue tucks his chin still spinning the archer like a merrygo round, shifts his weight—And hurls the archer through the corridor window.
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Glass explodes outward.
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The archer falls on his back, hitting the blood stained carpet floor, eyes rolling unfocused, staring at the ceiling.
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The Blue Ninja draws a tiny black one shot pistol with no hesitation.
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POW.
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The archer’s head jerks violently to the side, blood misting the air. His armored body drags slightly across the stone as it settles into stillness.
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The Blue Ninja lowers the pistol.
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Moonlight glints off his mask.
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He turns toward the next scream.
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And walks patiently.
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The white wig screams loudly, curling into the corner.
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The Blue Ninja doesn’t even look at him.
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He steps over bodies like they’re fallen leaves. Traeven bursts into the hall and peeks around the corner, pistol raised.
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He aims with one hand, heart hammering against his ribs.
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He fires.
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BOW!
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The shot cracks through the corridor — but the Blue Ninja is already gone, sliding sideways into the shadows like smoke.
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Traeven’s jaw tightens.
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“Damn it…”
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He sprints forward, feet slapping the floor with loud rythmic smacks. He reloads on instinct — powder, ball, ramrod — hands moving with the speed of a man who’s done this in his nightmares.
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He turns around, anticipating the ninjas chase.
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SECOND FLOOR THERONS BEDROOM DOOR
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WHAM!
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King Theron kicks open his chamber door with force.
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His silhouette fills the frame — shirtless, hair wild, shotgun raised like he’s posing for a painting.
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His stance is wide.
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Comically wide.
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But somehow still balanced.
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THERON
“Stay down, Susan!”
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Susan, who was already on the floor, screams.
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BOOM!
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The shotgun blast detonates through the corridor, shaking dust from the rafters. Smoke rolls from the barrel in a thick, dramatic plume — the kind Theron secretly loves because it makes him look mythic.
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The Blue Ninja is thrown backward, chest blown open, body skidding down the steps. He hits the floor and stills, leaving a smear.
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Traeven’s ears ring, stars blurring across his vision.
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Theron exhales through his nose, satisfied pumping his shotgun with a flourish that is absolutely unnecessary.
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THERON
“That’s right baby!! Daddy’s awake!!"
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He steps into the hall, pump action in hand, smoke curling around him like a cloak. His eyes gleam with that strange mix of fear, adrenaline, and theatrical pride — Another scream echoes from deeper in the lodge. Theron’s head snaps toward the sound.
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His face drains.
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All the bravado evaporates.
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He retreats into his chamber, SLAMMING his door shut.
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Throws the latch.
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CLACK.
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Then adds the chain.
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CLINK.
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Then pushes a chair under the handle.
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SCRAPE.
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Traeven steadies himself, peeks around the corner down to where the bodies lay—A yellow ninja charges him from the stariway. Traeven fires — blasting the enemies shoulder. The ninja flinches, and continues running forward.
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To be continued....
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