The Alley (preferably no guns for a change)

[captainankh]

Frost stood in the dark.
It was cold, but he didn't feel it.
He felt nothing.

He felt empty.

He stared in to the night.
It never rained in the alley. Perhaps it wascovered, up on some distant storey.
He didn't look.

He didn't care.

He glanced silently at the torn Linkin Park poster falling off the wall. Hopeless.

The hilt of his sword called menacingly to him. Frost called a silent challenge to anyone who was as dead as he was. There must be others. Musn't there? Surely...
A silent breeze shifted the folds of his coat.

Frost stood in the dark.

[Chris Wesley]

Chris stepped out of the rain, into the alley.
His body was Numb outside, burning on the inside.

He stared ahead, and saw a figure standing in the darkness.

The figure appeared menacing, challenging.

Chris drew his sword, and approached.

He felt no fear.

[captainankh]

Frost stepped back from the sodden newcomer. He decided silence would be more dramatic than an introduction.
This one was confident, by the look of it more confident than he was. He ripped out his sword and spun it around in his hand twice, then dropped into a high guard. Poses were what this game was all about.
He narrowed his eyes and glared at the figure approaching towards him.
He hoped this would be quick.

[sheizus]

Gusts permeated through the hard, rusted metal of the fire escape. The ice winds stabbed into the exposed forearms of Gerald, his clean shaven face. He grimaced. The cold shouldn't bother him. It couldn't bother him.
It didn't bother him.
Tying his hair back, into a rough ponytail behind him, Gerald looked at the two of them. He knew one, but the identity of the other eluded him. More than a coincidence, the meeting, he knew, but he couldn't pick the real meaning behind it, and didn't want to speculate.
The katana slid from its sheath, the noise of it leaving its place of rest more than likely enough to alert them, but it wasn't his style to attack from behind in the first place.
Blue steel glinted, reflecting the pale light from the street as Gerald flew to the ground, his boots making a thud on contact with the ground that the two definately heard.

[Chris Wesley]

Chris spun his sword around, and tapped the tip onto the ground.

He was about to run at his target, when another character dropped gracefully from the fire exit above, and landed on the ground between them. He carried a Katana, which seemed unusual, but stylish.

Chris's sword was one he was quite fond of. Standard length, with a tempered steel, silver plated blade, and a logo of three small triangles at the base of the blade. The handle was a purplish blue, and the sword had the overall look of a Master's Sword. Which, of course, Chris was.

He spun it around again, and decided that the new foe was a more interesting target. He stepped into striking distance of the new target, and swung his sword at his head, with an easily blockable swing. It was a challenge more than a killing blow.

[sheizus]

Breaking a trend, Gerald refused to spin his sword around before reacting. Such flashy and useless manoeuvres held no place in his art.
Gerald's blade went up, providing noting more than a token resistance before he danced away. He had no doubt what the man's broad, cumbersome blade would do to his own, and there was also the matter of the man behind him to take into account.

[captainankh]

Who dared interrupt the challenge?

This new clown with the katana should be hung.
By the neck.
Until he was sorry.

Frost felt himself fill with rage.

He gripped the silver hilt of his bastard sword with two hands. The handle was to long to be practical, but it served its purpose.

The newcomer appeared too cocky. He must be taught.
Abandoning honour, Frost leapt at the man from behind, his blade aimed straight for the neck.

Someone would pay for their ignorance.

[sheizus]

Gerald heard the swing of the weapon early. A quick lift of his sword angled upwards deflected the clumsy stike above his head, and Gerald let his blade slide off the bottom of his opponent's.

Then, ulilising the leverage of his long hilt, he let fly with a strike at the man's exposed shoulder.

[captainankh]

Frost ducked easily under the high swing and spun around to strike at his attackers face.

Unfortunately, the first man was quite in the way, and his blow was too easily parried. He leapt back looking for a quick escape.

Dodging back towards the mouth of the alley, he decided that now an introduction would be more dramatic than silence.

He spun his sword for attention, and stated quite boldly:
"I am Frost. Betrayed by darkness. Scorned by all"

A silent breeze blew his coat (quite dramatically) in the half-darkness. He expected replies.

[sheizus]

Gerald smirked.
"Sloppy fighter. Stupid Fighter. No discipline."
Gerald walked around to the side, keeping an equal distance between him himself and the other two, and both in front of him. He stopped by a wall, but did not lean on it.

He didn't care what the man expected. A name given was a disadvantage, and his code did not require, much less encourage him to reciprocate with his own.
Better the devil you know than the devil you don't.

Gerald was happy to be the Devil least wanted here.