The Fist and The Furious
Shayla had left three days ago, under the cover of night with only the clothes she was wearing and a small chance of success. She had been entrusted to sneak a message, an urgent plea for help, to the hero known as Fisto, in the nearby forest that bore his name in tribute. She was young and fragile looking, but she was also deceptively strong and determined. Her small village of Broken Wolf had been taken over by one of Skeletor's henchmen, the notorious dark master of the martial arts known as Jitsu. Another came and went periodically, an utterly frighting man-creature with purplish skin and spikes atop his head. She did not know his name, nor did she care to learn it.
Inside a simple looking cabin adorned with modest markings, Fisto and his friend Rio Blast were engaging in polite conversation. Of all the heroes on Eternia, few shared a bond as complete as they. Both had once been on the other side of good versus evil, but each came to realize their mistakes and have embarked on a noble quest to atone for past sins. They remained tough, hard men, but their hearts were now pure and their actions righteous.
A knock at the door startled both men, for it was getting long in the day and was an odd hour for company. Always prepared for trouble, Rio Blast readied himself for shooting if the need arrived. Fisto cautiously made his way to the door and called out for the visitor to state his or her business. Upon hearing the urgency in the young woman's voice, Fisto made a split-second decision to trust his instincts and opened the door. Shayla was weak and cold; her body aching heavily from the quick, hard journey. Rio Blast got to his feet and helped Fisto bring the girl inside. With weary eyes and a thankful spirit, she began to tell her story while a crackling fire warmed her bones.
In the morning, Fisto woke first, even before the dawn greeters of the forest, and prepared to depart. With his longtime horse companion, Stridor, away on a mission with Clamp Champ, he would have to make the journey to Broken Wolf on a modified Wind Raider. Despite managing to be nearly completely silent, something caused Rio Blast to stir in his cot and awaken.
"Where do you think you're going?" the cowboy asked in a deep voice, one yet to be treated to a hefty mug of morning brew.
"I'm going to Broken Wolf," Fisto answered.
"Don't you mean we're going to Broken Wolf?"
Fisto finished strapping on his belt and proceeded to retrieve his sword from its proper place. He cocked his head to his right. "That girl in there needs medical attention, attention two war-horses like us can't give her. I need you to take her back to the Royal Palace and make sure she gets what she needs."
Rio Blast nodded. "Okay. I'll drop her off with Duncan and bring back..."
"No," Fisto interrupted. "I can handle Jitsu; you stay with the girl. She's been through a lot and you'll be the only familiar face there. She'll need you."
Rio Blast looked his friend in the eyes. He knew he was right; the girl would need whatever comforts could be afforded her, and a face she already knew was one he could provide. Still, he didn't like the idea of leaving his brother-in-arms alone in battle. "You'll need me." Fisto continued getting ready, forcing Rio Blast to accept the fact his friend's mind had been made up. "You don't listen very well, you know that?"
Fisto offered him a handshake and a knowing smile, then departed as the sun was just beginning to break through the branches and spotlight the ground.
With the luxury of transportation at his disposal, Fisto made the journey to Broken Wolf considerably quicker than Shayla's trot to his forest. He abandoned the vehicle at a moderate distance away and finished his trek on foot.
Fisto had been fighting the forces of evil for a great many years, and he had seen more than his fair share of destruction. Yet the wretched state of Broken Wolf was such that even the hardened warrior couldn't help but pity those poor souls that remained within its borders. Cottages were either burnt or ransacked; some of them were both. He could feel the eyes of those laboring under Jitsu's command falling upon him, and a quiet buzz began to build. By the time Fisto had made his way to the village center, not a single hammer fell nor a fire stoked. All motion had stopped, and the few villagers still clinging to their faith began offering up silent prayers for their hopeful rescuer.
"Jitsu," Fisto shouted loudly. "I would like to speak with you!"
A group of scurrying villagers gave way from which Fisto emerged. "You are a long way from your forest, old friend," he stated while cautiously approaching. "What business do you have in Broken Wolf?"
Fisto started making his way towards the still advancing evil warrior, keeping his eyes locked on his movements. "Funny," he shouted. "I was going to ask you the same question."
A sly grin came across Jitsu's face. "I am their guest," he lied. "I regret to inform you that there is no more room available; I'll be needing you to leave. Now."
Fisto let out a controlled chuckle. "You took the words right out of my mouth... old friend."
They stared at each other with great intensity, then lunged at one another and ignited their latest battle. Both men were incredibly strong and for several moments neither could gain an advantage. That changed when Fisto took his attention off his enemy after being distracted by a villager getting dangerously close to the fight. "No!" he yelled. "Stay back!" That brief distraction enabled Jitsu to blindside Fisto and gain the upper hand. He proceeded to unleash a violent fury of chops and punches on his foe, finally sending him crumpling to the ground.
Jitsu peered down at the stunned Fisto and admired the damage he had inflicted. Blood was pouring from his nose, and his left eye was badly swollen. But even after taking such a beating, the hero would not stay down. With pained breaths and wobbly legs, he began struggling to stand once more. "Your spirit is strong like a mountain," Jitsu stated. "But why do you continue to rise, knowing I will only strike you down once more?" These two sworn enemies shared many of the same traits; courage, discipline, and determination. "Is your love for Eternia so solid you must continuously rise only to fall?"
"That's... part of the reason," Fisto growled, wiping away some of the blood trying to enter his mouth. "But its mainly because I love to fight!" The bearded combatant jumped to his feet and squared his posture, then smacked his tormentor directly in the jaw with his enhanced fist. It made a sickening thwack upon impact. "And I love the way that sounds!"
"I hope you cherish it," Jitsu stated after spitting out a broken tooth. "It will be the last time you hear it!"
And so they began their conflict anew. Each one tearing and grabbing at the other, searching for that elusive opening that would swing the battle yet again in their own favor, and possibly earning a victory. It was a symphony of aggression, a poem expressed by actions instead of words. They each fought valiantly, with all the power they both possessed, for what seemed to be an eternity. Neither man would falter; neither man would allow the pain they were experiencing to slow them down. It seemed that despite both men's best efforts, this was one brawl that was destined to end in a stalemate.
And then the villainous Spikor burst onto the scene and immediately made his presence felt by landing a stunning blow to the back of Fisto's head. As Jitsu began to recuperate, Fisto's future seemed dire as Spikor plotted his next offensive blow. "I would have liked to have been involved with the preliminary beating," he said boastfully. "But at least I can partake in the final act." Fisto's chest armor was broken and of little use, exposing his torso for Spikor to take aim upon. You could hear the deadly tightening of his embedded spike where his hand once rested; the final click, announcing that the deadly weapon was primed for maximum thrust, was always louder than all others.
From an unseen location, a laser blast raced towards Spikor, narrowly missing him and dispersing its energy on a closeby stone. It was reduced to rubble. "You missed, fool!" Spikor roared while trying to eye his attacker. "It will prove to be a fatal mistake!"
"I don't miss," the voice called back. "That was a distraction shot, meant to turn you around." Spikor felt a sudden eruption of unease. "I won't shoot you with your back turned to me. That's just not how I play."
Spikor grew outraged by what he perceived to be an insult, enabling him to cast aside his previous nervousness to make way for fury. "Play?" he shouted, still unable to see his stalker. "You dare insinuate engaging the mighty Spikor is nothing more than a game?" A few feet away from the angered villain, Fisto was nearly unconscious; the only signs of coherence were sporadic moans and grumbles. Jitsu, slumped over a nearby tree stump, wasn't much better.
"Call it what you want, but it gets the job done."
"And what is that?" Spikor asked.
"It got you to turn around," came the answer, followed immediately by a solid blast to Spikor's upper-body. He crumpled upon impact and fell to the ground. Seeing what had just transpired, Jitsu somehow managed to get to his feet and call for his trusted steed, Nightstalker. Within seconds the duo were out of sight.
"You don't look so good," Fisto's rescuer playfully stated.
"Rio?" Fisto asked. His voice was soft and weak, little more than a whisper. "I thought... I thought I sent you back to the palace?"
"You did." Rio Blast gently placed one arm underneath his bloodied and bruised friend's head, helping him get to a more comfortable position on the cold, hard ground.
"Not that I'm complaining," Fisto continued. "But what are you doing here?"
Rio Blast smiled and answered. "I chose not to listen, sort of like a stubborn friend of mine chose to do earlier today." The odd odor of laser fire hovered in the air, with trails of smoke still rising from the discharged weapon.
"Who are you... calling stubborn, shorty?"
"That would be you," Rio Blast chuckled. "And if you've already forgotten our conversation from this morning, then apparently you're a little slow in the head as well."
Sensing Fisto's strength had returned enough so that he could be moved safely, Rio pulled him up by placing his hands under his armpits and lifting slowly. He held onto him for a few moments, just to make sure he could support his own weight. When he was certain his friend was fit to stand, he backed away and checked him over. "You broke another chest armor? That's the fourth one in as many weeks. Duncan isn't going to be very happy."
Fisto nodded towards the villagers and waved his arm in the air triumphantly, signaling to them their home had been freed from the evil warrior's occupation. "Do I look like I care about Duncan's happiness?"
Rio Blast just laughed and walked side by side with his haggard looking friend. "You know what I like about you most, Fisto? You're just so damn jolly all the time."
The End.