For those of you who don't know what this is all about, it's a character introduction for A Winner Is Two, my CCT (Canon Character Tournament). I'm hosting a tournament of fanfiction authors in the spirit of friendly competition – last author standing gets a story request from me. You can find a link to the forum on my profile, if you're interested. All you have to do is choose a character, write their entry into the tournament, and write fight scenes that will be judged against those of other writers.
Specifically, this is the entry for Travis Touchdown, as an Enforcer. Since I'm hosting the tournament, I'm entering characters to keep the rules in line rather than to have any possibility of winning. I actually think this is one of my best works, especially the first two-thirds or so.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters within. I do own this tournament, Grand Cross Isle, and the organization BORED, if not any of its members. I merely own the contents of this story.
A Winner Is Two: Desperate Struggle
Chapter 1
Prelude to Madness
Deep within the residential complex BORED had carved into a cliffside, a man was singing in the shower. But this wasn't just any man singing off-key anime tunes in the relative privacy of a bathroom; this man was an Enforcer. The first-ranked assassin in America, BORED had handpicked him for his skill, strength, sheer resilience in the face of overwhelming injury, and ruthlessness. But right now he was just a man rubbing Head and Shoulders into his black hair, his pale, freckled face screwed up as he sang. "Benribenri banzai benribenri banzai benribenri banzai ningen! Benribenri banzai benribenri banzai benribenri banzai ningen! Hora biribiri okorasuka? Biribiri okorasuka? Biribiri okorasuka? Ningen! Hora biribiri okorasuka? Biribiri okorasuka? Biribiri okorasuka? Ningen!"
Suddenly, the sliding door of the shower was pulled open with enough force to crack the pebbled glass panel. "You're going down, man!" A large, long-haired Hispanic man wearing lots of chains and leather and a ninja mask stepped one foot into the shower stall, brandishing a pair of tomahawks. "That number one title will be mine!"
"Jeez! A little privacy!" the other man exclaimed. "I'm wet and naked over here!"
"Too bad, Touchdown! You should have kept your guard up!" the assailant made a swing to behead the showering assassin, but he dropped to the floor and drove a fist into the ax-wielder's knee. Grunting, the assailant braced himself against the stall with one arm and swung downward with the other, but Travis Touchdown rolled out of the way (striking his head against the stall wall in the process), and the assassin only embedded his axe in the drain.
"You're out of your league!" Touchdown snarled, quickly rising and stomping on the assailant's outstretched wrist, eliciting a crack and a cry of pain (both equally satisfying). "Bastard!" He followed up with a punch that connected with the man's nose, and blood began to flow freely from it. "Fuck-head!" Touchdown grabbed the stunned lesser assassin, leaning forward and wrapping his arms around the man's torso. He followed up by lifting the man up and over himself, pulling the man into the shower stall and slamming him down headfirst in a messy suplex. Travis managed to complete the maneuver before slipping on the wet ground and falling on his own ass. He quickly recovered, getting up and out of the stall without bothering to shut off the hot water. Drying off his hands on a towel, he rummaged around the bathroom counter before finally removing the black cylinder that held the toilet paper in his dispenser.
Pressing a button on the side of the cylinder caused segments of it to unfold. In particular, a cap at one end of the cylinder extended outward for over a meter on a thin rod resembling a car antenna. Another button was pressed, and a glowing stream of blue light came into existence between the 'cap' and the rest of the cylinder, giving the whole affair the sudden appearance of a beam sword – the Blood Berry. Satisfied, Travis stepped back into the shower. The assailant was still in the same position: upside-down, balanced on his shoulders and the back of his (probably broken) neck. His face was staring blearily upwards at Travis, his jaw slack, his nose still bleeding and crooked. He gurgled up at the number-one ranked assassin.
"I'll accept those as last words," Travis said coolly. "Now, EAT SHIT!" He brought his beam katana down, bisecting the upside-down man from his groin to his head. "Asshole ruined my shower…" the otaku grumbled, deactivating and putting down the beam katana before he grabbed a towel and began to feverishly dry his hair off. He left the water running; this had happened to him once or twice before, and he knew that if he didn't, the blood could thicken and clog the drain.
Dried off, he went about his business as usual. Replace the toilet paper and the Blood Berry. Wipe down foggy mirror. Brush teeth, apply deodorant. Get dressed; boxers, socks, faded blue jeans, worn sneakers, T-shirt advertising his favorite anime and manga (Pure White Lover Bizarre Jelly), brown leather belt, crimson jacket, one leather glove, yellow-lens, white-framed sunglasses, lots of hair gel. Mouthwash, grin at reflection. He looked good. Finally turning off the water, he stared at the two halves of a corpse and shook his head. He'd get rid of him later. Travis was already in a better mood when he left, although he didn't start singing again.
---
"Ah, Mr. Touchdown!" Travis looked up, and found himself waved over to a conversation down the corridor. It was between two men who had been talking animatedly, and Travis would rather have not gotten involved – his bike might need some maintenance, and this tournament was supposed to go down tomorrow. But one of the men, a graying guy with an eyepatch and a powered armor of some sort, was waving him over, and these were the guys paying him, so he headed over. What was his name… Something Snake? Solidus, right. "This is Commodore Smoker; he's another of the Enforcers, and he's just arrived."
Travis looked the man up and down. He was a pretty big guy, although not unusually tall or broad, with medium-length hair of a sort of faded green-blue coloration that was about halfway to silver. His jacket was open to a bare chest, revealing an impressive X-shaped scar and a bodybuilder's physique, and he wore an improbably large jitte on his back – Travis doubted it was still very effective for catching blades, at that size. The only other eye-catching thing was that he was smoking – two cigars at once, in fact, which made Travis wrinkle his nose. Normally he wasn't bothered, but… two cigars at once? And his jacket pockets were filled with even more! What kind of addict was this guy?
At the same time Travis had been assessing his new co-worker, Smoker had been doing the same, but he noticed Smoker was now staring at his own eyes, his face registering a bit of surprise. "Take a picture, why don't you," Travis snapped, and Smoker's demeanor hardened again. "What are you Commodore of, anyway? Friends of Lung Cancer?"
"I can't punch him, can I?" Smoker growled.
"I'd rather you two saved your aggression," Solidus muttered impassively. "We've gone to great lengths to obtain the services of each of you for good reason, and it wouldn't do for the tournament to begin with one of you dead and the other wounded." He didn't mention which would be which – trust an ex-President to speak diplomatically.
"Yeah, whatever. It's been great meeting Smokey the Bear, boss, but I have to go take care of –"
"Er, Travis, could I have a word with you?" This voice belonged to the suited, professionally nondescript man known as Ofdensen. Travis sighed; another detour. Besides, he liked that Ofdensen was never rude to him and always let things go without interference unless there was a problem, but of the BORED members present, he had the least appreciation for a good fighter. Travis knew by instinct. "Unless I'm interrupting something?"
"Not at all," Solidus said jovially. Fake joviality – it was all part of his sizing the two Enforcers up, and Travis knew it. Instinct again. "I was just watching a healthy rivalry blossom between two of our Enforcers."
"Well, as long as the 'healthy rivalry' doesn't blossom into 'killing each other'. Speaking of – Travis, would you walk with me?" Uh-oh.
"Sure, why not." Travis turned his back on the old man and the chain-smoker. "Not like I have anything else I should be doing," he said sarcastically.
"I assure you, we'll be done in ten minutes." Travis caught up with the slightly shorter, dark-grey-suited man and matched pace with him. Ofdensen glanced sidelong before continuing. "In case you were wondering, this was about the body that was in your shower."
Travis grumbled wordlessly before articulating a real answer. "Fucker wanted to take my title," he finally said. "He's not the first to try and catch me off-guard. It's a fucking insult; whenever I wanted to advance in rank, I had to pay through the ass so the next assassin up could go wherever they liked for the time and place. I mean, all I ask for is a quick meal at Burger Suplex before you try and kill me, but nobody's ever-" Ofdensen cleared his throat. "…sorry. You were saying?"
"I'm actually here to apologize to you," Ofdensen admitted. "The attacker was Number 513, one of my own men. I hadn't known any of them harbored an interest in the assassin's life."
"Please tell me he wasn't one of your best."
"Hardly. In Fighting Skills class, he got through Klokateer training with a C+. At any rate, it won't happen again, I assure you." Something in Ofdensen's voice indicated that he had indeed taken some rather dramatic steps to assure this. "I do wish you'd let us know immediately, though. I have a clean-up crew working on the bathroom."
"Oh, okay. I'm used to getting rid of any corpses in my bathroom and bedroom by myself, so I was just going to wait until later." Upon further reflection, Travis decided he didn't mind Ofdensen – he was perfectly happy to tell Travis exactly what he needed to do, exactly what the pay would be, and leave it at that, provided Travis did his job. Nothing worse than an employer who insisted on interfering with the job over some spur-of-the-moment impulse. "What does it matter – you guys don't have some kind of health code you need to follow all the way out on this island, do you?"
"I'd prefer to follow a health code where possible, but the concern is actually that the Enforcers share bathrooms." Oh, right – Travis had completely forgotten, since the other guy hadn't left so much as a toothbrush in the room. "Your neighbor, Mr. C'Baoth, was a little annoyed that you left a dead body in pieces in the shower."
"C'Baoth… how do you pronounce that?"
"The way I just pronounced it," Ofdensen replied, narrowing his eyes in an understated gesture of exasperation. Travis noticed and quickly decided not to care.
"Is he the guy in the burlap robe? The mad wizard guy?" Travis had seen the older man in passing a few times, but never spoken to him.
"You probably shouldn't call him either of those things to his face, but yes. He is." Travis realized they had reached the control room, where Sakyo was calmly explaining something to a man whose suit and sunglasses didn't hide that he looked ready to shit his pants. "Feel free to run along now – there was a problem with the cameras on the east peninsula and I need to get that checked out."
"Alright. I was going to make sure my ride was in gear, then go scope out a few outposts before it gets really hot."
Ofdensen nodded in his taciturn way, and the door slid shut behind him.
---
The lights on the elevator flashed downwards, one by one. Instead of merely numbering the floors in the base, BORED had chosen to describe each floor's function next to the elevator light corresponding with it (why the elevators of all things were easy to navigate, Travis would never know). Of course, to get anywhere on the elevator, you needed to swipe your keycard, and most keycards would only grant access to certain floors. For example, the Workout Room was open to all employees, but the more posh Gym and Spa floor just above was only for Gold-clearance cards (which all the Enforcers had) and Platinum-clearance cards (which BORED had). Travis's Gold-clearance got him everywhere except for the VIP bedroom floor and the Pinnacle, the room where BORED kept their most secret plans and held their most secret meetings.
Not that Travis cared. He was being paid several shitloads of money, plus room and board (with most of the executive perks), just to watch a few dozen poor bastards massacre each other and kill any who step out of line. At worst, he'd lose maybe one or two nights' sleep over the guilt, and at best, it'd be fun and easy. He smiled as he reached the bottom floor; Harbor and Parking. BORED's unique base layout had them storing all the vehicles deep in the mostly-flooded underground caves, which they had expanded and turned into a regular underground harbor. A few ships docked deep down here, and land and air vehicles were kept in the caves until they needed to be used, when a freight elevator would bring them up to the surface.
As he got off the elevator, Travis began to make a beeline for the part of the expansive cavern he knew his Schpeltiger would be in, but he was quickly distracted. There was a wooden sailing vessel docked now, an impressive-looking battleship marked 'MARINE' on the sails. Lots of cannons, and quite a few men in white caps and coats moving along it (the marines or maybe the navy, he supposed). "Lousy jarhead butt pirates…" Travis muttered as he continued onwards. They were a ways away, and weren't bothering him as long as they didn't bother to stop the contest.
Another hundred feet away, though, he found something even more distracting. "Yah!" Crack. "Yah-AH!" Crackcrack. A woman with short black hair was practicing sword techniques the old-fashioned way: with a bamboo sword and a scarecrow made of tatami mats. He stopped to take a look at her sword technique, then stopped pretending and just looked at her. Even with the glasses, even with that heavy, unflattering jacket she wears over the floral-print shirt and long, pastel pants, she looks good. She's skinny, with curves in all the right places, and I think there's a nice face behind those frames. Good thing, too; this place has been a fucking sausage-fest so far. I was worried I'd have to stalk a female contestant. Oh, shit, she knows I'm looking at her.
"Can I help you?" she asked, a bit annoyed but not really impolite. She knows exactly where my eyes were wandering. She must be a pretty sweet kid, not to be angrier with me. Now think of something to say.
"Your technique is outstanding, but you aren't putting enough emotion into those blows." Hey, that actually makes sense – run with it. "You should put some anger behind those strikes – what else is it good for, anyway?"
The girl considered the idea. "If I let my rage get the better of me, it could easily be exploited."
"Just because you're getting angry doesn't mean you lose control. Here, let me show you." She offered the handle of the training sword, and he gladly took it. Inhaling, he pulled the sword back over his head and focused on the tatami dummy. It's that asshole who ruined your shower. It's that Smoker bastard who talked down to you. It's that BITCH WHO KILLED YOUR PARENTS! Suddenly there was a massive tearing sound as Travis swung the blade downward. The tatami mats fell to the ground, partially torn, but the sword had sustained most of the damage – it had broken above the handle. "Whoops."
"What was that?!" the young woman yelled, mostly annoyed but a little amused. "You broke the training set! Besides, you left yourself way open."
"Well, yeah. I'd only use an attack like that when another person with a melee weapon was charging me, or to finish off a stunned enemy." Travis lamely poked at the collapsed mats to illustrate. "Well… sorry." Shit, that didn't work out as planned. So much for scoring with the Sexy Librarian Swordsman. He flipped the broken bamboo sword around and returned the handle to the brunette. "Here."
"Thanks…" she took it uncertainly, most definitely not brushing his hand. "So much for maintaining control."
"You're quite beautiful, you know." Whoops, that just escaped. Luckily it wasn't one of the dirty ones. Still, before he knew it she had slapped him. As he cried out in surprise and held his cheek, she blushed.
"I'm sorry! Reflex. Uh… listen, you're sweet, but… I'm not really on the market right now… that is to say…"
"Is he bothering you, Tashigi?" Travis stiffened at the unpleasantly familiar voice, his reddened cheek forgotten. The swordsman girl (obviously Tashigi)'s own cheeks blushed further, and he turned around. It was that asshole Smoker! "Touchdown. Fancy meeting you again so soon."
"You! What are you doing down here?" Travis turned away from Tashigi; it's probably a lost cause anyway.
"I'm just here to get my ride… and keep an eye on my troops."
"Your troops?! Who, the… aw, don't tell me you're in charge of these Navy goons!"
"Goons?!" Tashigi yelled angrily, and Travis winced. She could go from soft and unsure of her words to loud and angry pretty quickly.
"I see you were just getting acquainted with my second-in-command, Officer Tashigi. It's probably relevant information for you that she's a surprisingly fierce swordsman who's dedicated her life to retrieving fine swords from amoral bastards who don't deserve them."
She's definitely a lost cause, then. Shame. "I was just giving her some friendly advice on technique," Travis snapped. "I'll get out of your hair now."
"I'm going your way," Smoker said calmly, leaping off the crate he had been sitting cross-legged on to land a few steps behind Travis.
When they had left earshot of Tashigi, Travis grumbled, "Why are you tailing me?"
"You noticed." Smoker chuckled a little, and Travis cringed; it wasn't a healthy sound. "It's simple – I really don't trust you."
"I'm just doing my job. I wonder, when the chips fall down, which of us will prove loyal."
Smoker's eyes narrowed. "I don't think you understand – in some cases, loyalty doesn't make you trustworthy."
Finally, they reached the section of the cavern that was used as a garage. Travis marched right past the several standard ATVs and Jeeps; they would get people through the underbrush, sure, but they weren't impressive vehicles. "So I hear one of the Enforcers is getting paid in jewels, and another's trading his services for a spaceship. Some people, eh?" Then Travis reached a crate marked 'TOUCHDOWN', and he immediately set himself on prying it open (not bothering to use a crowbar).
"I ain't getting paid," Smoker grumbled. Then he launched into a story about why he was doing it; Travis didn't listen to all of it. He had found a crate of his own and was using his big-ass jitte-thing as a crowbar of sorts. It ended with, "And I have to share my bathroom with a spiky black rat wearing just gloves and shoes. I've seen some crazy shit in my life, but that's pretty weird. Luckily, he isn't around much."
Hearing the word 'bathroom' jogged Travis's memory of his morning's events, and he eagerly related them to Smoker, who gave him a few funny looks over it. But by the time he was finished, he managed to pull the lid of his crate bare-handed. "Jackpot!" He opened it, and was immediately plowed under by an avalanche of packing peanuts. But inside those peanuts was… "My Schpeltiger!" Travis exulted. Wading through the Styrofoam tide, he dragged the massive white motorcycle out and leaned on it, grinning at Smoker. "Impressive, isn't it?"
The commodore frowned a little more. "It looks like just a glorified scooter. Big, though, I'll give it that."
"Not just big – powerful." Travis rubbed his hand along the vehicle, taking in its luster, its smell. Have to enjoy the paint job while it lasts. "It's a super large scooter, with a platinum white body and red pinstripes and markings. It's got rear twin disk brakes, sweet suspension, a super long spin arm, fat rim 30 inch Grasshopper tires, and a super freaky engine that I can't even begin to explain. The four mufflers that extend from the left and right side power filters and muffler covers create a very hot X shape when looked at from the front or back, and they power the turbo." He finished dragging it clear and sat down on it, listening to the motor rev. "It's only 530 millimeters high, but 1,488 millimeters wide and a full 3946 millimeters long, and the top speed is impossible to measure thanks to the turbo boost. I'll be plowing down any trees I don't care to go around."
"That seems unlikely, given how much smaller the front wheel is than the back."
"It's big enough. I used to try it out on the palm trees in town, just to see if it'd work."
Smoker sighed, pulling his own vehicle out. Unlike Travis, he was able to do it one-handed, but then again, his vehicle was a bit smaller. "Like you, it's about as subtle as a Buster Call." He finished producing a green three-wheeled ATV from his own crate.
"What's that supposed to mean?!" Travis grumbled, but Smoker ignored him, explaining his own custom vehicle and why it was better than Travis's. Travis didn't listen much until Smoker mentioned that it ran on his own unique power. "And what power would that be?"
"Raise your voice at me again and I just might show you." The commodore blew a surprisingly large amount of smoke out of his nose. "Oh… and watch out for the old man behind you."
"What old man?!" Travis turned around and found himself face to face with an elderly, white-bearded man, who stood uncomfortably close to him and affixed him with a piercing gaze. "YAH!" He stumbled back, but quickly regained his balance and composure. "Hey, I know you. You're Joruus C'Baoth, the guy I'm sharing my bathroom with. If this is about the dead body in the shower… sorry. It was self-defense."
The man, clad in silvery pants and a red-trimmed black shirt of an almost Eastern design, waved his hand dismissively. "It was an unpleasant shock, I admit, but you struck down that man with ease. He ambushed you in such an underhanded manner, but… you don't have a scratch on you, do you?" Joruus was intense in expression, and seemed determined to hover just inside Travis's personal space.
Smoker chuckled, hopping onto his vehicle. He revved it, and a cloud of smoke almost identical to the one produced by his cigars shot from the back. "I'm going out for a ride. You two have fun getting to know each other. Oh, and Touchdown… I've got my eye on you." He drove off, his machine giving a healthy roar but still not as loud as the one the Schpeltiger produced.
"Bah. Don't listen to that clod." Joruus's eyes flickered to the Tsubaki, the beam katana Travis wore on his hip, and Travis noticed that Joruus was armed with one of his own. An unfamiliar model, but it's gotta be one of the high-end ones with no support bar. "Those who are not force-sensitive can be so… ignorant sometimes."
"What are you getting at, old man?"
"You're strong, arrogant, well-versed in the ways of the sword, and the Force is palpable around you…" Joruus was circling Travis now, which was really, really unnerving. Suddenly, the old man stumbled back as if struck, his tone switching abruptly to a mix of fear, anger, and shock. "You aren't a Sith Lord, are you?!"
"Never heard of 'em." What a lunatic. Smoker must be laughing his ass off that he left me to talk to the crazy ancient. "I'm just a humble assassin."
Joruus's demeanor shifted again, so abruptly switching to pleasant surprise that Travis thought he could hear gears being stripped. "Is that so? You have an abundance of talent. Tell me… you have strange powers, don't you? Abilities that you can't find an explanation for in any biology text…."
"What of it? I've transcended my limits – any human can do it, if they've got the drive."
"Oh, you think so?" Joruus started to chuckle, but he quickly abandoned that for outright insane laughter. "Join me, Travis. Become my apprentice, my padawan, and I can sharpen your abilities to levels you do not yet believe possible. And when this foolish exercise in mayhem is over, we can travel through space to begin setting up a rightful kingdom, one where Jedi rule, a-"
"You lost me at space travel," Travis interrupted. "Listen, it's been nice chatting, but I'm going to go scope out a spot to set up camp."
"I urge you to consider my offer," Joruus… well, he urged. Then his tone shifted, becoming innocent, almost pleading. "I will have a spaceship, you know. BORED is going to secure one for me in exchange for my services."
"Sorry, but I've already learned well from Master Jacobs and Thunder Ryu. They taught me everything I need to know." Travis sat back down on the seat of his Schpeltiger. "Thanks for the offer, though."
Joruus frowned. "I've never seen an X-Wing designed for land travel, before. Where did you get that?"
"The internet," Travis snapped, driving off. "And it's not an X-Wing!"
The mercurial old man's expression darkened as he watched the young assassin rush off. "I'll yet see you as my apprentice, young Touchdown. We, gifted in the ways of the force, must stick together."
End of Chapter
No More Heroes: Desperate Struggle is the working title of the sequel to No More Heroes, the game Travis is from… hence the name. The song Travis is singing is "What's Up People?", the second-season opening theme from Death Note, and it's actually pretty damn near impossible to sing clearly at the speed it's meant to be sung at. The scene itself is also a reference to the fake ending of No More Heroes – in the fake ending, he's killed while on the toilet by a Mace Windu wannabe (in the real ending, the killer is stopped before he can do it). I figured after that, he'd keep a weapon within reach of the toilet at all times.
If you want to know more about the scenes involving Smoker, read his entry when it's ready – it contains the same scenes from his POV. Just a little something I'm experimenting with – you don't miss anything really vital because of it.
Crazy Joruus is mostly being crazy, but also unintentionally pointing out all the Star Wars references in Travis's character.