10 Helter Skelter and Death Metal
Meet Travis. Just your ordinary guy in his late twenties, rocking shades, a red jacket, and jeans. He's stepping out of his apartment, really a motel. It's named the No More Heroes Motel, but whether or not it's a statement of Travis' view of the world is really unknown, for lack of it mattering.
Travis walked across the open air hallway, whistling the latest thing to get stuck in his head as he near skipped down the stairs. He's excited; today he's got a mission. He proceeds to jump onto his very expensive and very coveted (only by him) scooter, the Schpeltiger. Honestly, it looks like a motorcycle at first glance but instead much cooler (his words, not mine). With a few revs, Travis barrels out of the parking lot, and soon he's on the highway out to kill somebody.
Why is Travis out to kill someone? Well, he's out of cash again. After going out to the video store to pay off some rentals he realized his pockets were empty because of the job he took last night. Travis lives a bit like a bum, but ever since he won his shiny new beam katana from a random internet auction, he's been heading out to the Deathmatch Bar, a place where guys like him can jump into the ring and beat a couple fellows for some cash. Weapons were allowed, but when you have a beam katana most other weapons fall kinda short, and Travis soon found himself with a lack of opponents, and thus, a lack of cash. It doesn't help that he went out a few nights ago and drank himself silly before realizing they still hadn't found any new opponents for him.
Arriving at the mansion of his target, he charges through the front gates, immediately jumping off his bike, pulling out his beam katana, the Blood Berry, and slashing off the heads of two guards, while yelling an appropriate (for him) battle cry: "Fuckhead!" You could literally hear the roar of applause.
Travis walked up to the front door where a single guard stood, peeing in his pants, seconds away from groveling but too chocked up on his own spit to get anything out besides a few wails. "Yo, help me out here. Where's this Death Metal dude?" The absolutely terrified guard actually works at this point to stammer out a few words, but still fails miserably. "Bad answer." The guard was shortly made into halves onto the floor, along with the door.
Walking in, Travis was met with a couple of other guards peeling down the staircases to meet him. They were outfitted with their own weapons, some with actual steel katanas, and others with beam knuckles over their fists. Travis smiled at the brawl waiting for him. "It's game time!"
Travis charged right ahead and cut the first guard in half, vertically, before he even realized Travis was moving. All the fights at the Deathmatch Bar had really helped Travis become stronger, faster, and quicker. You could almost believe he had had formal sword training (he hadn't). It didn't matter too much though, as the guards were extremely wary of Travis' Blood Berry, and their hesitations cost them. Travis quickly dispatched the group and charged in the direction from whence they came, upstairs.
Most of the second floor of the mansion seemed to be taken up by a large bathing room, with fountains and jacuzzis placed every which way. A guy could get used to a life like this, with a few less goons all over. Travis decided it was fine to jump in and get both feet wet as he slayed the few in there, but no Death Metal to be found. He quickly went up to the next floor.
There he found a large room filled with a hearth and many types of trophies. From displayed weapons to animal fur rugs, it was a very rich feeling place. And to top it all off it was filled with many trained guards who were waiting for him in ambush.
Travis didn't have a ton of experience fighting someone else who was actually trained with a sword, and fighting six at once was actually working against him. The swordsmen goons knew how to surround and attack from all sides, and Travis was forced to mostly block or else be pricked to pieces. And it started to make him impatient.
"This is the end!" Travis yelled. If there were too many to fight at once, he'd just need to move faster to hit them all quickly. One of the things that made Travis special, and is probably what caused him to be scouted for this mission, was the fact that he was able to channel his Inner Force. One of the first things he learned how to do was to concentrate and increase his speed and reflexes if under enough pressure, just like in anime.
A few seconds later, the room was cleared, but no Death Metal meant that he wasn't anywhere inside the mansion. However, there was a sizeable area out the back, as could be seen through the window, so Travis quickly headed back to the first floor and out through the main hallway.
Where he found a new type of guard; one with his own, low grade, beam katana. The man stood up, went into a fighting stance, and gave a look that screamed, 'bring it.' And Travis brought it. With a side of chocolate milk. "Strawberry on the Shortcake!" Travis yelled, energy flowing through his body overclocking his katana to the point where his opponent could not block it. A quick death blow later, Travis entered into a large ballroom, and felt very much like dancing.
Travis' most recent night at the Deathmatch Bar, where he had drunk himself into a near stupor, contained a chance meeting. A woman offered him a job. It was to kill a drifter. He found the guy and cornered him to a rooftop, where he unloaded dual magnums and rocket-loaded arm cannons. His name was Helter Skelter, and upon meeting him Travis "couldn't tell if he was 'the shit,' or just plain old shit." He was the first real challenge for Travis in a long while, and afterward the woman didn't mind giving Travis a generous prize. However, right after she offered setting up another fight for Travis, if he gave back the money and added a little extra as a set up fee. There'd even be a larger prize waiting for him. Feeling blood-thirsty, he quickly accepted.
Exiting out the back of the ballroom, Travis could see only one area left to the whole complex. The pool hall. The final guards stood behind a large locked door. One even had a small Uzi. Travis ducked the first few shots while charging at the nearest guy. Slicing him in half he spun around and caught the next guy easy. The final guy, with the Uzi, unloaded a clip while Travis rapidly flailed his sword around to deflect the bullets (when you have a shit scared guard and are close enough to negate the spread, the area you have to block is a lot smaller than you think). Travis, nearly satisfied, entered the pool hall and ran to quickly close the distance for his final fight, before his cell phone rang.
"Hey, Travis?" A female, distinctly Eastern European voice was heard. "Your ranked fight begins just up ahead. Win, and you will be 10th. Lose, and hell awaits. Are you up to this? Need a bathroom break? Whatever you need to do, do it now."
Travis couldn't quite place the voice. He also couldn't remember giving out his cell number recently.
"Your opponent, some call him the Holy Sword. He is good. But I know you can take him."
Travis was quickly running through the list of people in his head that would have his cell number. Bishop? He's a dude. Shrieking from the phone quickly distracted him from further thought.
"You are the man! Eye of the tiger! He only looks tough because his mother was an ugly bitch! Take it to the red zone! Assassin's way at full throttle! Unleash your power! Show no mercy! Bring me Death Metal's head!"
And then finally Travis remembered who she was.
"Enter when you are prepared to fight. I believe in you, and your force. Now, off to the Garden of Madness..." And the phone went click.
It was the lady who signed him up for this, giving her own brand of cheering. But he came here to win, and he was going to do it, no question to that. Walking down to the end of the pool hall, he took her advice and found an outhouse, checked his Blood Berry and its batteries, and found a mask with a note.
A mask? A luchador mask, a memory from Travis' earlier and wilder days as a pro-wrestler. In it, held a note from his master, a famed Japanese luchador, now retired, who taught Travis in the ways of a pro-wrestling champ. He had fought many foes, gained much fame, and was shining brightly, until an event in his life sent him into a sudden retirement. It looked like today, even his master was rooting for him, recalling for Travis one of his older, more beloved moves.
Now prepared for anything, Travis stepped through the door, and out to the open pool, overlooking the sea with a beautiful cliff side view. There was a man sitting by the pool, sipping a drink, while enjoying the view before him. Travis slowly walked over to him, down some steps. He knew the man was dangerous, a vicious killer who had to have done many dirty things to gain all he had now.
The man spoke. "Quite beautiful, wouldn't you say? Paid for with the lives of many. When you have the strength to take life for yourself; that is true wealth. I am free of desire. So long as I have this scenery to look upon, I need nothing more. Please, leave me be."
Pointing the de-powered Blood Berry, Travis decides to speak. "You're the one leaving... In a body bag."
The line only seemed to anger the man. "I'll only say this once more. Leave. Here. Now!"
"Me, leave? You obviously don't know me."
"You don't get it, do you?" He swirled his drink, a ring with a skull on his finger.
"Hey, you know what Paradise is, right?"
"Paradise?"
"This is Paradise," Travis told the old man, while waving his arm towards everything around, "the place where dreams are fulfilled. Well, you've had your dream old man. Time to wake up!"
There was a pause before the old man said anything more. "This is no Paradise."
"All right, then what is it?"
"A place to die." The old man said as he got up. His red robe fell from his body, revealing his large tattoos that cover from his chest, over his shoulders, on to his upper arms, and over the entirety of his back. Metal studs like flat capped silver tacks lined from the tip of his nose, up the bridge, and then left and right across the brows of his eyes. This was the man Travis was looking for, Death Metal.
"Hmph. I'm glad you and I are on the same page here."
"So naive..." Death Metal said as his hands reached his forehead. "You have no idea, do you? What a pity. You make an old man cry. Arrogant, crude little shits like you come around from time to time." He took a step back up the stairs Travis cautiously walked down moments before, and Travis chose to keep step. "Listen well, young one. The wall is high... Higher than you will ever know." His arm raised, an extremely large beam katana unfolded itself, his Holy Sword, known by few as the Orange II. "Ultimate sacrifice is sublime. Now draw." The top reached, the stage set, his katana pointed at Travis.
Travis aimed his katana as well, and it activated. Its low, dull, blue light looked pitiful next to the large black curved blade, incredibly thin yet at least six inches from front edge to back edge, and a handle similar to a butcher's knife. Its beam rested along the front edge, a tiny sliver of yellow. Travis, undaunted, pulls out one last line. "You can take that to your grave."
Travis charged. He figured he could possibly take Death Metal out quickly, and by surprise. Death Metal easily blocked, and Travis decided to press the advantage with many extra slashes, but he could not at all penetrate the defense. But Travis didn't care, he felt exhilarated, and as long as he pressed the advantage he could overcome. Thoughts began to crystallize in his head.
'This count... I feel as if I'm looking at my future self.'Travis rained attacks in and again, hoping to win on speed. 'Mega bucks, big ass house, fast cars...' Switching his stance up a bit, Travis tried again with lower aimed attacks, trying to work off the issue of balancing such a large sword. 'Dining in style with a world class chef and a trusty nutritionist counting every calorie.' A large, low slash flew seemingly out of nowhere from Death Metal, forcing Travis back. 'A team of hot yoga instructors to keep me in shape. Nurses to attend to my body...' Death Metal began his counter attack, showing off his immense strength by wielding his own sword with the speed Travis wielded his. 'Maids and loyal servants at my beck and call. On the weekends, tanned babes knocking on my door every two hours.' Travis blocked, blocked, blocked, but the weight of the heavy sword finally sent him sprawling on the final hit. 'That'd be the life. Everything in its right place. It's the perfect life.' After a moment's breather, Travis pulled himself up and charged once again. 'It's the life for winners. That'll be my life!' Death Metal neatly sidestepped, and his momentum allowed him to easily swing around his sword with Travis caught open. 'I thirst for selflessness. Hypocrites lusting for their own desires get killed by young rookies like me.' Travis managed to spin around in time to block, but with barely any balance left Death Metal pressed his own attack with another flurry of heavy blows. 'This is how it goes down. And for the old killers? They'll croak anyway.' One more blow blocked from Death Metal and Travis heard a terrible sound from his sword; the battery gave out.
Death Metal had had enough of seeing Travis flail about as an amateur. At first things were interesting, but now Travis was becoming quite pitiful to him. It was time to end things quickly and decisively. He spun quickly, unleashing his ultimate technique. Suddenly, there were three Death Metals, each with their own Holy Sword.
'I guess you can call this a comedy. I realize there's nothing here for me, but what else can I do but keep going?' Travis couldn't do anything other than run. The three attacked him and he managed to squeeze between them with a dodge roll, and then scrambled to the other side of the small fighting area. 'Maybe I should have been a little more careful before I jumped in.' Travis, with a moment's reprieve, started to try and kick start the batteries with a rapid shaking motion. Death Metal ended up giving extra time away as he watched Travis' strange pose, hunched over and moving his hand rapidly up and down. 'Gotta find the exit. Gotta find the exit to Paradise. But I can't see it. Can't see anything.' The moment didn't last long, as Death Metal quickly regained his composure and attacked with all three of him. At the last moment Travis got the Blood Berry back in working order, and spun around for a surprise slash, taking out one of the clones. 'There's this sense of doom running down my spine, like it's... like it's trying to suck the life out of me.' Travis clashed with the next one, pushing him away as he dodged a slash from the third. He now saw an opening, and was able to land a few glancing blows before a definitive slash across the midsection caused this clone to disappear. All that was left was the real one. 'I need to get rid of it before I bail.'
Death Metal was surprised by the sudden comeback, but didn't give it much thought. The fight felt nearly over to him still, and all he'd need to do is attack. 'Something deeper... deeper than my instincts is taunting me.' He launched another flurry of blows, and Travis was stuck blocking once more, and it shouldn't take long for a repeat malfunction. However, Travis succinctly pressured, managed a sudden dodge to the side during Death Metal's combo. 'Can't find the exit. Can't find the exit.' While he was open Travis quickly reached forward, tucked Death Metal's head under his arm while reaching for the waist of his pants, and with all the necessary part linked, flipped him over in a glorious suplex known as the Front Neck Chancery Drop. 'Can't find the exit. Can't find the exit.'
Pain escaped Death Metal's lips, and with the advantage gained, Travis quickly stood up to face his opponent while Death Metal ended up stumbling back a bit, dazed. Travis stepped forward to close the gap, but Death Metal preempted the attack with his own, another large swing. It, however, wasn't as low as usual, and Travis easily ducked under it and brought his own weapon up. Suddenly, the Orange II was spinning upwards before it embedded into the ceiling, Death Metal's hands still gripping the handle, although slipping off.
Blood spurting from his stubs, Death Metal was amazed at what the amateur had done. "Extraordinary. The moment I've been waiting for. The name 'Holy Sword' is now yours."
"You're joking, right? I don't care about titles or power. I just wanna be number one."
"Then master the ways of the assassin."
"Here's your ticket to Paradise, old man." And Travis finished the job with a quick slice through the neck.
Within moments, the sound of clicking heels was heard. Travis turned, and his sight was met two men in cleaner suits holding large gizmos with vacuums attached. Both were lead by the woman who gave him this job and called him earlier; Sylvia Christel.
"Nice kill, Travis. I didn't think you had it in you. It was rather..." She walked up to and then past Travis, before turning. "Exciting. Congratulations. You are now ranked 10th."
"Tenth, huh? What? Do I get anything?"
"Hmm... How about some cash? That should help you pay the bills." Sylvia walked over to the armless and headless body of Death Metal, pulling out a camera, and started snapping pictures.
"I'm not feeling the sense of accomplishment that I should here. So I just gotta do this a few more times, right?" The men activated their large backpacks, sending out a stream of chemicals through their nozzles at the corpse, as Sylvia continued taking pictures.
"If you so choose, yes."
"And will you keep your promise?"
"There is nothing the Association cannot do."
"And if I refuse?"
"As the 10th ranked assassin, you are now a target for those who want to replace you." The body was now just a bloody mess of goo and ashes, and the men now started mopping up the blood. Sylvia just went right along, still taking pictures of the corpse and the scenery. "Anytime, anywhere. Number 11 could be right around the corner, ready to put a knife in your eye."
"So what you're telling me is that I gotta continue fighting. There's no way out of this. You set me up, bitch!"
That caused Sylvia to whirl around and face Travis, camera still at the ready. "Quit your bitching, and get with the program. There's only one road out of here. No turning back."
Travis suddenly got a much better idea for compensation. "Ok, how about this? If I become number one, will you do it with me?"
"Mmm... Maybe... Maybe not..."
"C'mon! Just once!" Travis pleaded, with one finger up to emphasize.
Click. Sylvia took one final picture, of Travis' mug with a finger held out.