Chapter 1 The Ninja Disguised as a Luchador

(or A Simple, Brief, Slightly Smutty, and Violent Prologue)

Atlantis had existed. It had not sunk into oblivion. It had vanished but not nearly so fantastically as ancient mariners and philosophers were wont to believe. Quite the opposite of sinking the Island floated away. Existing for quite some time in the Aegean Sea eventually floating out past the pillars of Hercules before sailing on past the tip of South America and up its coast crashing unceremoniously into a small whale pod and what would now be considered Southern California. When it crashed the city was deserted. Somewhere between its position just past the pillars of Hercules (its last recorded position) and its position stuck now as a penisula jutting from the coast of California, all of its inhabitants had vanished mysteriously. Not that there had been too many people around to actually take note of the city’s lack of people

This was quite sometime ago. The City of Atlantis that Was either crumbled with the force of their new home’s frequent earthquakes, sank into the hollow bits of the island that had previously kept it affloat, in any case when it was newly discovered by a fleet of Spanish monks it was a huge hill without any apparent structure that they named the Hill of God, only when they named it they did so in Spanish. Later in the early 1800’s an entrepeneur named Henry Bell bought it and it was renamed Bell’s Hill. A new Metropolis has since flourished on that once Island (now pennisula) a huge expanse of modern City fit to be compared to the Atlantis of old.

In this new city of lights and sky scrapers stunningly retrofitted to withstand the earthquakes a couple was finishing up in bed.

When he tossed his legs over the sides of the bed and cooly walked into the bathroom his mask was still on but none of his other clothing remained. The trophy and pride of a Luchador, his mask was never removed. It covered his entire head, a patterned leather in greens and blues and silvers with holes for mouth, eyes, and nose, and tight lacing that ran up his head from the back of his spine and had withstood the voracious Caterina’s nimble fingers.

“I wish that you had taken off that sweaty thing,” she purred from the twisted sheets of the Luchador’s bed to no response from the bathroom other than the sound of him pissing steadily into the toilet.

Caterina’s eyes narrowed at the empty doorway of the bathroom and reached over the bed to his pants on the floor. Pretenses had to be kept always, even in separate rooms, so she added with a luagh as she pulled his wallet from his back pocket “I want to see your pretty face one of these days.”

“The mask never comes off,” the Luchador said firmly but to deaf ears. Caterina was examining the wallet in a state of hurried awe. It was well made hand sewn cow hide, very nice and it made her think of her brother. It was the kind of wallet she would want to send back home to him, cute kid walking around their little home town in his snakeskin boots like he was some kind of gangster. Maybe when she was done with all this she could mail it to him.

“Never?” she asked absently as she examined the suspiciously shaped object pressing at the skin of the wallet. She opened the wallet up and pulled it out, her eyes glinting. This was the proof she had been looking for, if only she had managed to get his mask off and get an ID on him… but his kind were always tricky like that.

Caterina’s ears jerked at the sound of the creaking lineoleum flooring of the bathroom shifting under the weight of the Luchador. She quickly hid the wallet in a fold in the bedding and clasped her prize from some discreet angle.

“A Luchador never takes off his mask,” he said sternly as he reentered the room.

“But that’s just the thing, lover,” she said her voice that was all husk and sex, “I don’t think you are a Luchador.” Caterina flung the throwing star from his wallet towards his face and in a swift movement grabbed up her gun.

Caterina wasn’t surprised to see her Luchador had dodged the star. She raised a teasing perfectly arched eyebrow at him the perfect accesory to her steadily held gun, “Ninja, tell me. In training they said you were masters of stealth, but your costume is a bit guady to be ignored. Are you surprised I discovered what you are? There were rumors your agents could dodge even bullets. But I wonder if I pulled the trigger now… would you really survive?” She toyed.

The Ninja, unmasked (metaphorically at least) raised his hands, “A few claim to have dodged bullets but never from such close range.”

“Ha!” laughed Caterina, “So are you surprised? Your flamboyant disguise so easily seen through.”

“No not a bit,” The ninja shrugged, his hands still raised, “I’m not really impressed either.”

“What you say!” Caterina spat.

“I’m not impressed. I mean really, Catty, baby, all you managed to do was find out that I’m one of the Ninja. I’ve known for weeks that you were an Agent of the Scraper. Your real name is Thelma you come from the little town of Los Gatos where your little brother walks around in his snakeskin boots like he’s some kind of gangster. You trained for the Scraper for seven years and have been an agent for four with sixteen assasinations under your belt and a slew of nameless enson murders and of those you’ve slept with at least half of them. For Chrissakes I know you believed in Santa Clause until you were thirteen. You just found out I was a Ninja, I mean god, you don’t even know my pseudoname do you. I mean you’ve just been calling me a ‘hey Luchador!’ this whole time.”

“Shut up!” shouted Caterina (aka Thelma of Los Gatos) if it weren’t for the sound of her gun clicking to the ready the sound of her voice wavering voice would have been entirely unconvincing, “I know enough. You Jerk. Now tell me what you know about the Temple of Zeus!”

The Ninja looked momentarily confused, a hard thing to look when almost your entire face is covered in brightly colored fabric. He sighed deeply in a way that moved his entire body.

“I was going to ask you about the temple,” he said sincereity oozing from his person in ridiculous amounts.

“Well you won’t be asking me anything now, I’m the one with the gun,” Caterina sighed, trying to think of a different subject to drill him on, “How many other Ninja’s are there on the Bell?”

“We’re Ninjas,” the Ninja sneered in offense, “If I knew they were in Bell’s Hill they wouldn’t be up to Ninja par now would they.”

“Shut up, I mean… God just answer the fucking question!” Caterina struggled, “God this is just so… so… difficult! Take off your mask.”

“Listen, I can see your not ready to deal with my Ninja level skillz-,”

“Shut up! You don’t have to be an ass about it. I mean I will totally fuckin shoot you. Damn…” Caterina huffed.

“Let me finish,” The Ninja said calmly, “I can see you’re not prepared to match me in wit and you’re right you do have the gun you have the power that’s really impressive.”

“Thanks,” She said quietly.

“So I’m going to cut you a break and tell you some information you will find relevant to your efforts here with your company,” the ninja pronounced each word slowly and carefully, and Caterina looked on with interest nodding him to go on, “You have in your work with me, discovered my Ninja status, which is admirable, don’t forget that. I on the other hand have discovered your life story. Thelma I know you so well I knew we were going to have this altercation tonight so… well, I don’t know how to put this, but I took the liberty of placing pressure on several points on your body while we were having sex and by my count you have about half a second left among the living.”

By the time he had finished Caterina had slumped over on the bed. The Ninja sighed and lowered his hands, scratched his ass, and then got dressed.

So the fight for the Bell and its ancient treasures continued for the several groups who were privy to the knowledge of its past life as the ancient Atlantis. The battle raged but the treasures it promised were well worth it.