myOtaku.com: Vicious 2

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myOtaku.com: Vicious 2

Wednesday, February 28, 2007

Round 2
Dome
Round 2

After Michael Hick’s successful return to the dome, the chairman entered the caged structure, wearing a gray suit. He strutted past the fighter’s dead body, briefly looking down at the carcass before passing a smirk at Michael who briefly glared back before leaving the cage.
“Let’s hear it for Michael Hicks!” he yelled to a howling crowd. He scratched at his grey toupee before fixing his mouth to speak.
“As you know, I have a huge announcement, regarding our Dome Lord, Jean Hunter,” he said, staring at Jean in the crowd. Jean folded his arms, patiently waiting for the announcement.
“Next week in the dome, the Sadist returns and he has his eye on Jean. The first man to escape the dome or kill his opponent wins!” The chairman said, elevating his voice to compete with the roaring crowd. The announcement managed a small rise out of Jean, whose slightly widened eyes were shielded by the tent of his glasses. As the chairman closed his announcements, Jean took his leave from the dome.

The revving engines of fancy cars could be heard, projecting through the streets as the battles at the dome concluded. Jean stood in front of the civic center that was used to disguise the caged structure that rested below it.
“Yo, champ, I know you got a big fight comin up, but we gotta keep our heads on the matter at hand,” Rich said.
“You mean, Michael,” Jean reiterated, still looking straight as if his vision was as parallel as his thoughts.
“Are you going to actually take him out?” Rich asked, straightening the sleeves of his brown blazer.
“Doesn’t look like I will have a choice now that Elric’s boy got himself wasted tonight,” Jean replied, walking towards his black phantom that the ballet pulled up for him. A light rain poured over the city as everyone cleared out of the civic center. The cawing of crows could be heard from above.
“What the hell, Jean, check this shit out,” Rich said, looking up at the roof of a brick building. Jean looked up and saw the dark figure from the bar standing on the roof of the building with a murder of crows swarming around him.
“What kind of Eric Draven shit, is this guy on?” Jean said, before getting in the car. He looked back up at roof and no one was there, not a black feather in sight.
“That guy never ceases, to creep me out, let’s get out of here,” Rich said from the passenger side of Phantom.
“Just as long as he stays on his side of the field, I will stay on mine,” Jean said, revving the engine of the Phantom and speeding off.

Piano music played on an intercom of a fancy Italian restaurant downtown. The vibrancy of a food oriented workplace filled the kitchen. Waiters and waitresses maneuvered in and out carrying large trays of food. The chef’s prepared platters of meatballs and noodles laced in pasta.
“I can’t believe this shit, Dave! This is our first job?” Oran said, standing over a plate of spaghetti with some poisoned parmesan in his hand.
“Gotta start somewhere, bro,” David replied, sweeping the floor while looking out for Oran. Oran sprinkled the botched parmesan cheese over the spaghetti and put it on the tray for one of the waiters to serve.

David and Oran left out of the backdoor of the restaurant leading into an alley. Rich and Jean who were waiting outside followed the two young apprentices.
“How was the first assignment, boys?” Jean asked, walking behind the two with his hands in the black pockets of his slacks. David looked back and nodded.
“Too easy,” Oran replied. Jean’s smirk from the remark was severed as his keen since of hearing detected the rusty hinges of a fire escape ladder coming down at Oran.
“Oran, look out!” Jean said, drawing a chrome beretta from his blazer. Before Oran could respond, there was a knife at his throat and an assailant hanging upside down with his feet wrapped around the fire escape ladder.
“What’s up, Jean?” Michael said. David and Rich also drew chrome berettas. Oran’s instinct forced him to struggle a bit.
“Don’t move, little buddy,” Michael said, drawing Oran’s silver berretta from his apron and pointed at Jean.
“I hear you boys got a job to take me out,” Michael said, smirking.
“Yeah, so, what of it?” Jean said, pulling the hammer back on his gun.
“Business, I know. I figured one day my student would have to get rid the old dog,” Michael said.
“That’s how the job works, right, Mike?” Jean said.
“Right, let the games begin!” Michael yelled, as he released Oran and boosted off his shoulders to recede back onto the fire escape. He dropped Oran’s gun before he took his leave.
“We’ve got our hands full with his one,” Rich said, putting his gun away.
“Damnit!” Oran yelled in defeat, jamming his fist into the brick wall.
“No, Rich, I have my hands full,” Jean said.

The men arrived later that night at the club, back in the V.I.P. section. Elric came back in wearing a beige suit. He was sulking with anger. Oran sat on the couch, flipping a knife between his fingers, still discouraged by being sneak attacked by Michael.
“How could you let that bastard kill one of my best men?” Elric said, looking at Jean, who was in a corner, drinking a scotch on the rocks.
“He was in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Jean replied.
“So what’s the progress with Michael?” Elric asked, gathering himself.
“I want him alone, Elric,” Jean demanded.
“No way, I can’t afford to lose you, Jean,” Elric said, becoming uneasy as he took a seat.
“Besides, Jean I want a shot at him,” Oran intervened.
“I can’t afford to lose good men like Oran and Dave. I have to take this one alone, Elric. Don’t doubt my abilities,” Jean said. Oran threw the knife at the wall near Jean and he caught it.
“I’m not, I just don’t want to take any chances,” Elric said. Jean put his glass of scotch on the counter.
“You know this is what he wants. He wants us mixed up like this, so he can pick us off one by one,” Jean said.
“He won’t get us as long as you’re with us, Jean,” Dave said, leaning on the bar counter. The blaring techno music suddenly shut off as the bouncer flew the front door of the club below the V.I.P. section. Jean dashed to the window to see what was going on.
“What the hell?”
“JEAN!” a tormented voice belted out, as a seven foot monster entered the club, wearing the remnants of a straitjacket and the aqua green pants that patients wear when in the hospital.
“Oh shit, the Sadist is out,” Rich said, watching the chaos below as the crazed man arbitrarily attacked anyone in sight. The DJ watched in horror as the people were being slung around like bags of soil.
“JEAN!” the Sadist screamed as he clutched the throat of a young man and slammed him onto the ground. The DJ balled his fists tightly, making them pop as he decided to attack the monster. He hopped over the turntables and ran into action. His large fist crashed into the jaw of the Sadist, but had little effect as he wrapped his large hand around the DJ’s neck. His backwards hat slid off as the Sadist lifted him in the air. The DJ gagged and kicked as the very life inside his lungs began to diminish. As his eyes began to daze, the lights in the club flickered and the power went completely out. When the power came back on, the mysterious man was standing in front of the Sadist. He looked the giant monster in his eyes and slowly shook his head from side to side. The Sadist looked back at the mysterious man and cocked his head to the side before his rage subsided and he obediently put the young flamboyant DJ down. The mysterious figure’s burned through the Sadist, who stood lowering his head.
“Jean, you gotta fight that?” David gasped.
“I guess so,” Jean said, gulping the rest of his scotch. The Sadist looked up at Jean from the V.I.P. section and gritted his teeth. He began to advance forward, drawing back his aggressive persona. The mysterious man put his hand on his chest, holding the towering monster back.
“Come on, Hector!” the Sadist croaked, falling back to a more submissive manner.
“In due time, brother,” Hector said. Jean looked at the hunting knife in his hand and threw it at the throat of the Sadist. Hector’s taped hand caught it between his middle fingers, and he looked back, his eyes reared towards Jean. Jean gasped, nearly jumping back at the striking stare of Hector. The neon lights in the club flickered again while Hector’s glare still burned through the lense of Jeans glasses. The lights went out briefly, and when they came back on, both brothers were gone.

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