Little did I know what I was getting into when I went to the Denver Comic-con dressed as Lord Drakkon. I knew there were others who had cosplayed as the infamous “Dark Dragon”, though how many had actually used forged metal in their gear? I used brass lacquered with dark emerald flake around the edges whilst I also, just for the hell of it, forged my own bronze copies of the Zyuranger DinoMedals and the Dairanger crystals from smoothed rocks. The emerald for "Tengensei" Daigo and ruby for "Tenkasei" Ryō were the more difficult to find as I made each of the 'crystals’ the size of a golf ball.
Oh, by the way, my name is Thomas. Thomas Oliver, no intentional relation or reference to Jason David Frank's character of Tommy Oliver.
I'm nineteen, with raven hair falling over my shoulders and upper back and crystalline aquamarine-emerald eyes. I've been told that they sometimes seem to glow intensely, though everyone knows it's impossible for someone's eyes to glow. Even as I drop my gaze from the mirror to the helmet in my hands, I inhale slowly before lifting it over my head and sliding it into place before clicking the latches on the sides, the cherry red tint on the darkened lens making the helmet quite intimidating.
My gaze drops to the Zyusouken, or the 'Dragon Dagger’, sheathed at my left hip, the DragonMedal merged into the handguard. However, the sheath that should hold Saba, lies empty as it's very difficult to find someone willing to part with one. It's the only item missing, unfortunately.
Obviously, some details of the suit, like the shield and Saba, were either too detailed or large for the limited amount of metal I owned, so I had to resort to other ways to get the items.
A low sigh escaped as I left the bathroom, my gaze instinctively scanning around constantly to nullify the usual loss of peripheral vision from the helmet. I had a total of $650 with me for food or anything that caught my interest.
I had checked for Saba, and most of the replicas were cheap plastic, whilst I would much prefer something more dense and durable.
“Nice costume, man,” I heard before I paused, looking at the speaker. I blinked before chuckling a bit.
“Hello, Jason. I'm Tommy,” I quipped, amused as Jason David Frank’s almost immediate grin.
“Heh, that brings back memories. Don't have a Kimberly?” he said with amusement. I shrugged, the shield rattling slightly as the lacquered Plexiglas shifted.
“Not yet, though I'm keeping an eye out,” I deadpanned before shaking his hand and drifting through the crowd. I blinked as I noticed not only a Saba replica, but the recently released Legacy version which was primarily black and gold where the original was white and gold. The seller looked eerily like Bartley the Shopkeeper from Baldur's Gate: Dark Alliance, even down to the boisterous voice.
I do have several tricks that very few people know about, one which I suspect may be genetic, though being able to store things in a subspace pocket for easy access wasn't all that helpful most of the time. I also possess an eidetic memory for the martial arts, specifically Muay Thai, Brazilian Jiu-jitsu, Judo, Akido, and a couple of different styles of Kung Fu, specifically Dragon and Leopard.
Fortunately, I primarily used the subspace pocket for storing survival gear, walking staff, and my electric guitar and rarely for other things. Sometimes, just to freak people out, I drew things out of the dimensional pocket that couldn't possibly fit in something like a pants pocket. He grinned beneath the helmet as he tilted his head, the tight tendons popping rather loudly.
“Ah, the infamous Dark Dragon…. seems you're missing something, my Lord Drakkon,” the Bartley lookalike said boisterously.
“Saba,” I said shortly, making it clear what I wanted.
“Ah. Which would you prefer, then, my Lord?” was his energetic reply.
“Both, preferred. Heard the Legacy version is selling for $175, with the original selling for around $45 to $50. I'll offer $210 for both,” my tone was calm but firm and stern through the voice changer installed under the mouthpiece.
“Well, well, a man who knows what he wants and does his research. Quite refreshing, my Lord. These are unique as where most are made of plastic or, rarely, plate metal, these are fully forged and molded. I'll take $350,” Bartley said with a grin.
I chuckled softly, noticing a few cosplayers backing away as I unintentionally radiated the feeling of a predator hunting. I didn't notice Jason David Frank's body tensing subtly as if readying for a fight.
“Forged, eh? Of what, 1040 steel core with a 1065 outer layer?” I deadpanned. I was slightly surprised as Bartley grinned even more, as if enjoying the banter.
“1065 core folded into a layered 1040, 1095 outer layer,” was his reply. I cocked my head, mildly impressed.
"Intriguing. I assume that the outer jacket was twisted into Damascus before hot cutting the core groove and pressure forging?" I quipped, making the Shopkeeper laugh.
"Since you seem to know your blades, I'll sell you both Byakōshinken and Yorūshìkon for $250," the Shopkeeper offered.
"Done," I barked sharply, ignoring the oddity that the Legacy Saba had such an odd name. I did notice that he had used the Japanese name of the so-called 'classic' Saba.
"Don't be too surprised if that old fox wakes up. He's been in your family for a long time," he quipped as he passed me both blades. I could tell his claim that the weapons were forged was true from the weight, though unnoticed to me as I hung Byakōshinken from the empty sheath, Power Coin shimmered as the raised marking shone a metallic silver as its counterpart shone a dark indigo-black color.
I thought about the Shopkeeper's words as I stalked into the crowd and vanished from sight... unfortunately... in more ways than just visibly. I felt a surge of vertigo as mingled amethyst and silver-black energy surged around my body before engulfing my form.
What happens when you never see it coming? Vigilance will save lives...