Scaramouche X Debate Club Image Site

“I find,” Scaramouche whispered, tapping the flat of the club against his palm, “that with the proper tool, a debate can be concluded very, very quickly.”

One Nobushi was embedded upside-down in a rice paddy, his hat spinning in slow motion. Another had left a perfect silhouette through a wooden storehouse wall. A third was tied in a bow using his own haori. scaramouche x debate club image

And yet… he didn’t drop it.

And in the center of it all, sitting daintily on an overturned crate, was Scaramouche. He was polishing the Debate Club with a silk cloth. A single drop of something that was probably rain glistened on its iron face. “I find,” Scaramouche whispered, tapping the flat of

He smiled. It was the most unnerving thing the agent had ever seen. And yet… he didn’t drop it

He laughed. It was a short, sharp sound like a knife being drawn. “Debate resolution. Let me guess. Two parties disagree. They each take turns swinging this… architectural disaster… at the other’s skull until one side forgets their argument.”

But then he remembered the Doctor’s smug face. Dottore, that preening collection of scarves and scalpels, always going on about “efficiency” and “clinical precision.” He remembered Signora’s cold, condescending smile. He remembered the Raiden Shogun— her —and her immutable, divine perfection.