A massive boom, and the earth recoils.

A frail figure in a ratty cloak emerges to greet the disturbance, and he aims his beak skyward. Solemn was the sight above the Valley of Peace: bloody reds and savage purples clashed, and smokey clouds swirled black as tar. A single white feather peeked out from beneath the ratty garment, and the old stranger felt it burn. Fresh pink petals from the Valley's famous cherry blossoms used to fall here. Today, all that greeted his feather was ash.

It had been thirty years, at first drowned in melancholy, more recently flooded with anger, but all filled with meticulous planning. Years of constructing the very tools that would change China forever. An evolution of his technological might from thirty years ago. He could feel its heat under his cloak, like a caged animal. It was jealous of it's brother, who had already done his work. Done a marvelous job, in fact, as the fire made itself known all the way out here, onto the farms lining the edge of the Valley. It's smell filled his nostrils. Time was short. He must get to the city.

As he made his way across the countryside, whispers of the tragedy reached him.

"...bomb..."

"...fire..."

"...death..."

But there were two words in particular which hung with him, latching onto his brain and feeding the coals of his fiery blood march. Two words more dense with fear than any of the others. But he wouldn't address them, not just yet.

Entering the city was like a walk through the gates of hell. The old bird had nearly entered those gates himself years ago. Shops, homes, temples; it all burned, all around him. And not living soul could be seen through the choking smoke.

Then a familiar voice rose above the monstrous roar of the flames. Recognition was followed by only anger. "Please, everyone, do not panic!" Master Crane's voice echoed from above and out of sight, a precursor to his arrival. Landing close to the stranger, the act was impressive and sudden. But from beneath the cloak, the heroic avian was analyzed.

Crane looked wise and worn; his beak was chipped, with faint cracks, and his white feathers had begun to gray. The years had been mostly kind to the bird. Exhaustion from the last hour was hidden masterfully beneath his attempt to maintain some stoicism, but his large brown eyes revealed his inner depression and fear. Those eyes looked to the cloaked stranger, offering little hope from the fires around.

Now was as good a time as any to test his creation.

Spotting sudden movement from beneath the ratty cloak, the master raised his wings to defend himself. The garment exploded in a thunderous roar of fire and force. Crane's body snapped backwards at a brutal speed. Those two powerful words, earlier muted and restrained by fear, now screamed through the air with electric terror: SHEN LIVES.

For a moment the old peacock stood, trembling amber eyes awed by the aftermath of his weapon. Such power, of his own creation! It never ceased to impress him.

Crane's agonized screams broke the peacock's trance. With his already frail body mangled by the blast, old Shen regained himself and hobbled towards the fallen avian with his back hunched from the weight of the smoking tube. He had few feathers left, and no weight hung on his body; Shen's ribs were very defined, like a starved slave. Crane, on the other hand, was in much worse shape. Oh, what a messy sight this was.

"Master Crane, was it?" His voice rose over his victim's wails and sounded like shredded paper, but the old ruthlessness could still be heard, thick as ever. The bird on the ground continued to scream, flailing his shredded wings as fire consumed him. "Shush, shush now. This has been a long time coming."

Crane's eyes locked onto his killer's. Blood oozed from his beak. Without hesitation, Shen raised the cylinder to the master's face. "Look it right in its fiery eye. That will make it quicker, moreso than the other four."

"You lost before. You'll lose again. Po will stop yo-"

With an ear-shattering blast, Crane was silenced. From here, the old man gazed upon his work. His voice began to rise, shaking with his frail body: "I was born to rule China! You denied me my future! If I cannot have her, then my country will burn!"

Old Shen let loose a crazed laugh, then coughed and staggered, putting his weight on the weapon as a makeshift cane. He looked onwards, towards the epicenter of the inferno raging around him: the Jade Palace. With a piercing yell, he fired another shot into the dead master, then angrily raised the gun to the sky.

"Let the panda come!"