There is a temple, deep within the Amazonian Jungle. What seems a lifetime ago, I was once a mere Navy Seal, untrained and young in the true arts of combat, green as the new sapling. I had heard the name of this temple spoken in legend, so I trekked across the steaming jungle, killing monkeys with my bare hands for food, and drinking the moisture from leaves in the morning. When I reached the temple, I rested on the steps… foolishly. Dark shapes flew from the trees, a whirlwind of blades and fists. Even today, I have no memory of what happened. But somehow, I kicked out my legs in time to send one of the men spinning down the steps to land in a broken heap at the foot of the temple. With that, the attack stopped.
I stayed in that temple for ten years, learning the Flying Tiger on Fire stance, the Very Large Sword Technique, and the other True Arts of Combat. I have gone all the way. I have gone past Navy Seal, past Mosad, past KBG. After ten years of dedication and training, I am now a silent warrior of the night. I am a shinobi.
You doubt me? This is the president’s computer. I killed him. I killed him and am fluthering from his computer.