The city was hot, humid and dry on this winter day in the year. Usually, one can hear the honking of the cars across the numerous streets, but in here, there are no honkings because the automobiles float on the air instead of drive on the road. The merest sound that a car could emit is a slight whirr of the wind.

Like all cities, this metropolis is like a Chinese puzzle; when you go down one street, more streets-- more pieces-- are revealed. The buildings in this town are sleek. They are made out of plexi-glass. All the buildings here are. The apartment buildings are like the Victoria mansions from the 1600s. This is the ideal futuristic town.

The darkness gleams off of the structures to camouflage the people walking in the streets at this late hour in the day. It also helps to hide the poverty that is present here. Amid the rich castles, there is always a street here, a road there, that has decay and desperation, contrary to the better side.
But when the rich and the poor mix, well, then all hell breaks loose. Case in point: a very, obviously wealthy child of a girl walks down one of the poverty streets called Old Slum.

She is roughly in her twenties, fresh out of college. Her suit is nice, but her short skirt makes her stand out even more. Her hair is worn in a bin and she is wearing thick glasses. Also, she has a very bulky purse, filled with lots of good stuff. She makes a prime target for a mugging.

That's another thing that makes this city bad-the crime. Almost every felony and heinous act has been committed here since the town's founding. The rich buildings cannot definitely hide it.

The young girl--we'll call her Suzie-- made a wrong turn and instead of going into her posh hotel, went into a very poverty-stricken alleyway. Bums were all over the place and smoke blew out of the manholes. She knew she was lost. The sight of the bums alone made her sick. We won't talk about the structure of the buildings.

Where on Earth am I? she thought to herself. To her, to one that lived in rich mansions all her life, it looked like she just entered the gateway to hell. She winced back, at first and then forced herself to go onwards. She walked on, bucking against her fears.

She clutched her purse against her body. No one was going to rob her. She would be brave and fight back, if someone did try something. She looked into an adjacent alley. It was dark. She knew something must be in there, but the darkness made it seem invisible. Then, a hairy, dirty hand grabbed her arm.
The man who the hand belonged to entered the light. It was a bum. Disgusting, dirty and vile.

"Gimme ya purse!" The man's rough voice seemed to echo through her mind.

She wasn't going to get involved with this. "No. Go away!"

The man laughed. This was gonna get ugly. He was sure of it.

"No one sez no ta me!" The man swept his leg under her and she fell to the ground. Her white suit was covered with mud and slush. This was disgusting. She got up quickly and wiped up as much of the mud from her butt as she could.

"Maybe, we can talk about this," she said. She licked her lips, trying to arouse the man's, um, desires. She then unhooked one of the buttons on her suit.
The man was definitely unimpressed.

"Stuff it, momma!!" The man thrust a leg into her chest. She fell against a wall and clutched her stomach. It hurt. This man could fight, indeed. He was way stronger than her. She felt that she may die tonight. And this man was more than happy to oblige her. "But, before we continue this," the man declared, " a little fun."

The man grabbed ahold of her by her shirt and slammed her body against his. He brushed through her hair. "You are very beautiful, y'know that?" In one swift motion, the man kissed her on the lips. She pulled away. "You disgusting swine--!!" She slapped him on his cheek.

"That was very nasty, missy!" He raised his hand, as to hit her.

"Stop!"

The two of them looked up to where the loud, booming voice originated from. Amidst the shadows and darkness, a lone man stood on a perch. Looking at them, he spied his opponent. His face was impassive. The new arrival wore a ninja’s traditional uniform. His boots were made of leather. Across his abdomen, he had a belt with throwing stars attached to it and a pair of nunchukas on his right side.

He pounced from the perch he was standing upon and landed mere feet from the attacker and his victim. He edged forward and grabbed the attacker by his coat and leaned on him a little.

"Listen up, creep, and listen hard," the newcomer said. "I don't like you committing crimes on my turf, punk. I don't like you seducing and attacking this innocent. As a matter of fact, I don't like you, period."

He lifted the man above his head and slammed him on the ground. "Time to take out the trash!"

Hands grabbed the man by his coat, again, and lifted him up. "I own this town and you are not permitted to live here. Now that I think about it, I don't believe I gave you permission to live, at all!"

A hand slugged the man in the stomach. The man spit up blood. His lips were bleeding profusely. "Who-- who are you, man?!"

His fists clenched ever so tighter. "I'm Kamikaze!" The man cried in his mind, as Kamikaze hurled him against a wall. He was knocked out.

Young Suzie looked at her savior with a delight that she never experienced before. Gratitude finally spread across her face. She approached the only awake man in the alley. "Oh, thank you, mister. I don't know how to repay you."

"Don't worry about it. It was nothing."

"But I must do something--" Suzie looked down at herself, jittered for a moment and then, leapt into Kamikaze's arms. She kissed him.

He separated from her. "You're quite welcome."

He jumped back on the perch he was standing on before.

"Wait..." she cried out.

She turned around and picked up her purse. It was a mess. Oh, well, that was only a material thing. Now she had her own, living, breathing hero. "Mister, I--"

Kamikaze was gone.

Now, she was trully crushed.

The door bell to the expensive mansion in Montreal, Canada rang. Loretta Shannon was tired of waiting. She has waited for various things in her life and she wasn't going to wait for the lazy bum to find the strength to open the door. She was getting very impatient.

The entrance to the mansion finally opened. But instead of him meeting her, it was his lousy excuse for a butler. His name was Edwin and he smelled and looked terrible.

"Come in, come in, madam," he offered. He stepped aside for her to walk in front of him. As she strode in, he bent down, as if to pick up something that he dropped, and looked up her dress. She grabbed his chin.

"Don't even think it."

"I'm sorry but you seem to have me at a disadvantage. I don't know what you're talking about."

Loretta strides off, not paying attention to the perverted butler. She just doesn't have the time for his crap today. Especially, not today. She walks up the white, huge staircase that looms before her. The man she came to see is really rich. It seemed that he won the lottery and just about bought the town. But then, she thought, who would want to buy a town like Montreal?

At the top of the second flight of stairs she saw the room she wanted. The door was very fancy and when she opened it, she saw a room that really took her breath away. The walls were wooden brown with pictures of that new hero-all over it. She thought the photographs were kind of stupid. What kind of nut would have their walls decorated with some hero on it? The kind of nut that she came to see.

The coffee table was nice, also, with magazines-- fashion magazines-- draped all over it. The table was surrounded by two couches. They were wooden brown, too, and very dull. She didn't see the man she came to visit at first, but then, when she heard the flushing of the toilet, that's when she saw him exiting the bathroom. He wiped his mouth with a hankerchief and tightened his belt. He was a man in his early thirties. He wore a black suit with a dark, fedora hat on. His tie was okay, and his shoes were average. She should know; she's a fashion designer. But besides his otherwise boring attire, Loretta thought he was the most handsome creature to ever walk the earth.

She dropped the travelbag she was carrying on her shoulder on the couch facing the coffee table, the one closest to her. The man picked it up and started to rummage through it.

"Where is it?" he barked at her.

She stuck her hand in the bag and when she didn't find the thing he was looking for, an expression of perplexment spread across her beautiful face. "I dunno."

He gave her a look that froze her bones. She was really worried, now. She thought for a minute and then remembered where it was. She reached into her blouse and pulled out a roll of film. She handed it to him.

"It took you long enough." He placed the roll in his pocket and sat on the couch, the one that didn't have the bag on it. When Loretta remained standing, he said, " Sit down."

Hearing the forcefullness in his voice, she sat down right next to him. He gave her a smile. She returned it, frowning a bit.

"I'm disappointed in you," he began. "When I want something, I don't expect to wait for it. Why wasn't the roll of film in the bag? That was where I told you to put it."

She didn't answer.

"Anyway, I'm glad you're here. I have a new plan. And I need your help."

"What do you want me to do?" she said, hesitantly. "I want you to have a talk with that famous super hero team, Alpha Flight. I have reason to believe that he knows something about this ninja. They've been known to work together on occasion."

She started to stand up, but the man tugged at her skirt.

"And this time I want complete success. This time I don't want to wait for anything."

She tried to smile but it came out as a frown instead.

"Daniel Mason is not a man with a lot of patience."

"Whatever you say, Daniel."

"Loretta--" Daniel was standing up. "Please, don't disappoint me. You don't want me to... punish you like before, now, do you?" He brushed through her hair. He could tell that she was getting all nervous and goose-bumps all over her. He touched her red, ruby lips. "Now, be on your way!"

Walter Langkowksi has been asleep in his office for the past half hour. He was supposed to organize some of his work files, but it got so boring that he fell asleep. A scientist's job is never done. Literally. Right now, he is having one of the nicest dreams ever. He is thinking of a wonderful evening with his girlfriend, Jeanne-Marie Beaubier and what happened afterwards. He is enjoying himself. The dream is reaching its great pivotal climax when a cold hand is placed on his neck. He jerks up, awake and disoriented.

"What-- where--?!"

The first person he sees is his new secretary, Laren Logan. He hired her about an hour ago and she is doing just fine, so the other staff members tell him.
"If you're so tired, maybe you should go home and take a nap."

A nap? he thought. She sounded like his nanny. Gimme a break. "No, no, I'm all right," he responded. "It's just I've had a lot on my mind in the last few days."

"Well, if you're sure."

"Trust me."

Walter gets up from his desk. This new secretary seems nice. She cares for her employers rather than for herself. Very kind and sincere. And she is very beautiful. That's another added incentive that he likes. But he's getting a little out of his league. He has a wife. What's her name? Oh, yeah. Jeanne-Marie. For a second, he almost forgotten her. He mustn't break the bond they have spun between them.

Laren and Walter walk together out of the office and enter the hallway where the other workers try to earn their monthly pay. The employees are working hard. They are very good at what they do, whatever that is.

Walter yawns. "Maybe, I will take your advice." Laren gives him a surprising look. "Maybe, I will go home. It has been a tough day. Are you sure that you can handle it? I know that it is your first day and it is not that fair."

"Oh, don't worry about me," she tells him. "I'll be fine. And don't worry about it not being fair. I trully understand."

He smiles and walks off. From behind his shoulder he can hear his new secretary sigh. But it is not a sigh of tiredness or relief, but one of care. A sigh that sounds like a girl in love. He shakes off the eerie feeling and continues to travel to his car, outside.

Jeanne-Marie Beaubier has been sitting on the bed for nearly twenty minutes already. She glances at her watch. It is ten to five. Now, he is twenty-two minutes late. Where can he be?

She thought it was a good idea to surprise. She likes surprises. They were supposed to have a date tonight. She took off her regular work clothes and put on his favorite nightgown. It is all white and see-thru.

She becomes so impatient that she reads a book. Ick. She hates books, but she thought that that would pass the time faster. She glances at her watch. It is five to five.

She drops the book when she hears a creaking sound downstairs. She gets up and slowly walks down the stairs. She knows that there is a baseball bat in the next room. If this is a thief, she will clobber him.

The key to his apartment fits into the lock perfectly. Walter Langkowksi yawns again. He is really tired. The door opens and it makes a creaking sound.
He drops his briefcase and closes the door behind him. He doesn't even bother to put on the lights. He yawns. The only thing that he wants to do is go to bed.

He, for a second, thinks of his new secretary. Laren Logan. What a name and what a woman. She is something else, isn't she? But, he couldn't have her, even if he wanted to. He was committed to another. He had-- oh, yeah, what's her name?—