Blue Skelton should have died a thousand times but something always intervened. It is possible that his grasp on reality was so thin and that he shimmered in and out it was just so darn difficult to put a blade into him. It seemed as if he always knew just when to step out of frame. Even though he was half Vietnamese they called him gwailo or white devil because he appeared like a nightmare whenever the need of the Black Lotus was dire. And everyone wished that he would fight for something worthwhile for something other than the defense of his clan. But his motives were as ambiguous as they were random. He always went his own way. But it cannot be said that he lacked loyalty for he would always come to the aid of his friends. He was consistent in his love although if he did not know someone he would not hesitate to use them as pawns in whatever scheme he happened to be cooking up at the moment. He was perfectly happy to fraternize with evil men even though he betrayed them more often than he furthered their goals. Although he was often a positive force in the world it was impossible to call him a hero because he fought only to further his own agenda. He had lost his humanity and people became little more than a means to an end. But then again most people are sheep but Blue Skelton was not a shepherd. He would not only fleece them but send them to their slaughter. He did not believe in innocence because he never had any. The violent manner of his birth left a bottomless void where his heart should have been. And even though he appeared at the top of his game he always felt as if he was struggling to free himself from some bottomless pit. He carried a heavy doom and the Zen Master could only temper it so much. For Blue Skelton was as dark as the Zen Masterís blade he carried behind his back. But the Zen Master was capable of bending any weapon to his will such was his focus and his determination. But for Blue Skelton the blade became a power greater than he could bear and it was unknown who was responsible for its actions, the swordsman or the blade. But wrath and a malicious destiny were everything that made him desirable to the lotus. That and the Zen Master had trained him well. Although it would be the Lotus that would teach the boy ruthless combat tactics, it was the Zen Master who gave him the mastery of his family heirlooms. For the master so loved the boy that he would give him the heirlooms of his own house. And though the items had spent an eternity in an hickory box that smelled of dragons they had lost none of their potency. It was this boy that would wreak havoc on the world and the aging supervillains that desperately sought the secrets of the black lotus plant.
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