Chapter1:

Dear Samurai,

You didn't look too good the last time you waved me. I hope you're holding out well, and I honestly mean that. Would I be sending you this info if I didn't? Well, that's for you to decide. In the end, I suppose it's better if you trust no one, especially those of us on the inside.

Here's everything you asked for: Project Farsight, Project Demolition, and Project Spartan. And yes, I did manage to get that one other thing you asked for. No idea why you'd want it... Agent Priest's been off the grid for more than three years.

If you can ever figure out how he managed to actually disappear so well that we couldn't find him... well I guess you wouldn't tell me.

But hey, I'm here for you, anytime. Really.

Regards,

Phantom 437

******

Agent Samurai looked at the sword that had given him his nickname. His actual designation had been Agent Stonewall, but no one had used that name, except in official documents, since Agent Samurai had adopted that sword. No one else used a sword. And after what he had done, no one else ever would. It would invite unwanted attention from higher-ups.

He smiled to himself. Every other agent had used either a gun, or a soundstick. He shivered. Those tiny sonic agents of death gave him chills. Operatives were only sent to kill those who had accomplished remarkable things... things worthy of an honorable death.

Bleeding to death from your ears while having your brain turned to jelly was not an honorable way to die.

When Agent Samurai had taken up the sword, his superiors were understandably concerned. The sword had at first appeared to embody a dangerous affirmation of independence, of individuality. He had to work hard to give that sword a different meaning.

That sword became the symbol of the most dedicated Operative that the Alliance had ever trained.

That thought made him smile again. He would use that sword to destroy the Alliance. That masterful bit of irony spelled the end of his former superiors' lives.

Agent Samurai looked