Stevenson. “We wanted peace, and you Americans and the Chinese love war, selling weapons here and
there!” he screamed, even when Stevenson started to reason. “ Die!” and he rolled beneath Thor’s legs,
stabbing through his vest, a hot knife through butter and leapt forward, the swords rising for the lethal
blow. But then Stevenson’s right arm shot forward and going into a crouch, released the Ka-bar in an
underarm throw. A spinning pinwheel light, it flashed toward the charging Ruto, hitting him between
the eyes. “Seems that you aren’t familiar with the peace you seek” murmured Stevenson.
Peace was a distant friend, yet amusingly close. All the years as a soldier at West Point led him to
believe that war and violence wasn’t absolutely avoidable, it still is. He felt guilty to have killed a man,
but he was left with no choice. Stevenson made a mental note to propose a world peace conference to
the Senate. No, all true warriors fought for peace, and they shall prevail. He thanked the legendary
brickwork dragon below him, for reminding him that, as the helicopters soared off towards the setting
sun.
***