"This is the police! Come out with your hands up!" One of Philadelphia's boys in blue blared over a megaphone.
"Hi, I'm Connie Dimarco here with the current scene. I'm standing in front of the First National Bank in downtown North Philly, where three armed robbers have taken five families hostage. The police are currently trying to negotiate the robbers to release the hostages, but so far they have made zero progress. Channel five action news here, however, will remain on site until all hostages have been released." The woman speaking was dressed rather business-like. She wore a gray business suit, with a white blouse. Her tanned hands were grasped upon a microphone, while her steel-gray eyes remained focused into the camera. Her bleach blond hair swayed with the wind, as she turned to face the large white building. Twenty-five steps led up to the bank's glass, see through doors. Further inside, three men stood in a triangle formation, with a group of hostages lying upon the ground.
"I guess the cops really are just overpaid morons." A young male whispered to the female lying beside him. The male had a brown skin complexion, and a short, black buzz cut hair style. Despite his obvious African- American heritage, his dark brown eyes, which were just light enough to differ them from the color onyx, slanted upward. It, overall gave him the appearance of having Asian blood within him. He bore a light goatee on his face, and both of his ears were pierced. The male's average-looking body frame was evident, despite his baggy crimson hoodie, and black jeans. His hand was clasped around the female's hand beside him.
The female's skin was of the same brown complexion as the young males, and both appeared to be of similar age. Her body type was average as well, and she bore short black hair, with a few loose strands hanging in her light brown eyes. Her eyes were obscured slightly by her skinny, tan-rimmed glasses. Her shirt was black, and her pants matched. "Darryl, this isn't funny! I'm scared!" She whispered back to her boyfriend, and gripped his hand tighter.
"Don't be. I promise, even if it takes my last breath, I'll get you out of this." Darryl's light demeanor from his previous statement completely faded, and a brief moment of serious compassion swept over him. He then slowly revealed a smile, leaned over slightly, and planted a quick kiss upon the girl's forehead. "Ok Chelsie?" He uttered, in an attempt to reassure her.
"Yes." She seemed more at ease than she previous was, before she continued listening to the conversation the three armed men had been having.
"They have ten minutes, before we kill a hostage to show them that we mean business." One uttered just loud enough for all of the hostages to hear. Immediately, all of the hostages besides for Darryl broke into a hushed panic.
"I have a plan. Calm down." Darryl finally spoke, and the hostages immediately ceased their talking, and looked up at him. His face, no his very essence was calm. It was contagious in fact; it seemed like whenever he spoke, all of those around him were caught by his radiation of serenity. "You all see that money cart over there?" He outstretched a finger toward a large, tan cart which appeared to be used to push around large sacks of money. It had four large wheels at the bottom, and was positioned particularly close to where they were lying. "When I give the signal, everyone run towards that and jump in. Your role, Mr. Husky…" Darryl extended a finger out again, pointing to a particular bulky man this time. "…is to get in the cart last, and push off with your feet with all your might as you get in. That should push the cart back to that metal counter. That's when you guys all jump out, and hide behind the counter. I'll distract those three for you guys." Darryl's fellow captives all nodded in agreement, and prepared themselves to take off sprinting at a moment's notice.
"I don't like this! What about you?" Chelsie panicked once more, before Darryl placed his index finger upon her lips.
"Don't worry about me. It'll all work out for the best. Just make sure you're one of the first to get inside that cart." And with that, Darryl shifted himself. While the rest of the hostages were lying so that they were face first with the cart, Darryl was the opposite, instead face first with one of the armed men. "Go!" Darryl cried out, as he took off running toward the closest armed man. He had just fully faced Darryl, when he realized that Darryl was already upon him. The man, like his two associates, had been wearing all black sweat suits, boats, and gloves. Their heads had been obscured by large, black helmets with glass visors. The reason for this was to conceal their identities. The man aimed his Ak-47 at Darryl, but before he could squeeze the trigger, Darryl had used his right forearm to push the man's left arm upward. The result was the entire gun lifting upward to face the ceiling. After the twelve rounds fired into the ceiling, Darryl grabbed the man's left wrist, and brought it down hard, while simultaneously raising his right knee into the elbow of the man's left arm. The result was a sickening snap, followed by the man's wail of pain flooding the ears of everyone in the immediate area, including the cops and news crews outside. The man fell to his knees, as his left arm dangled freely as though it were a leaf in the wind, and his weapon dropped to the floor. With one swift kick to the man's back, he fell face first into the ground, and remained there.
Darryl turned his head, to see the hostage's heads peeping from behind the metal counter. "Safe…" He thought to himself, as he turned his sights on the second armed man, whom was directly in front of him. He had been raising his Ak-47 up, and the furthest man from him, whom resided on his left, had already taken aim at him. Darryl pushed off his right foot hard, just in time for the six shots that the man furthest from him had fired to slam into the wall behind him. The result of Darryl's push, was him sprinting toward the man directly in front him, whom by now had his weapon raised and finger resting on the trigger. With the finesse of a major league baseball player, Darryl slid feet first on the ground, as shots flung past his head and into the wall on the other side of the room. Darryl's slide continued until he was directly in front of the man, where he then used his right hand to lift himself up off the ground, while slinging his right foot. He kicked up the man's weapon while he landed from his flip onto his feet. While the man was defenseless, Darryl cocked his right fist back, and placed his entire body weight into a punch toward the visor of the man. His fist crashed through the glass, and placed a heavy punch upon the man's forehead. As he stumbled back, Darryl placed another punch while not as powerful, was nearly twice as quick into the man's neck. His fist careened into the man's Adam's apple, as he dropped gasping for air.
With no time to pause, Darryl took a diagonal path toward the last man. He then quickly and suddenly barreled right when the man began firing his weapon. A stray bullet slammed into Darryl's side, which although momentarily decreased his speed, didn't stop him completely. The man backed up, while Darryl cut hard to continue traveling toward him. Once he had backed up enough so that there was a white pillar separating Darryl and himself, the man began to take aim again. However, Darryl simply used the pillar as a spring board, and was now flying straight for the man. A few more shots rang out, which slammed into Darryl's shoulders. They weren't enough to stop his kinetic energy and halt his movement, but they did manage to make Darryl go into a spiral. Darryl grabbed the man, and continued his midair spiral, now taking the man along for the ride. With all his might, and with a mighty battle cry, Darryl slammed the man headfirst into a wall and caused him to be stuck there.
Darryl landed on the ground, and looked up with just enough time to notice that the man had dropped a greenish, orb-ish object which had landed close to where the hostages positioned themselves. "…Grenade?!" Darryl cried out, as he took off in a mad dive. The sheer adrenaline which had been coursing through Darryl's veins was more than enough to cause him to ignore his bullet wounds, and focus solely on the grenade which was seconds from going off. With his right hand, he grabbed the grenade and pulled it in tightly into his body, as though it was a football and he was preventing a fumble. He placed himself into a ball, while the grenade rested dead center at his body against his stomach. "This is going to hurt…" Darryl thought, as he braced himself for impact, and his mind went blank while the bank was consumed with a large bang.
"And with the situation finally resolved, only one causality was the result. With the men in custody, we pay tribute to the young male whom sacrificed himself to save the others whom were captured. The young, eighteen year old Darryl…" Connie's report was cut off, by the sound of sobbing, as his girlfriend was being carried out of the bank by three police officers.
"No! He can't be! Let me go! Let me the fuck go!" Her cries were then, in turn cut off by a mid-40's couple, whom had pushed past the police in tears. Both the male and female dropped to their knees and let their anguish overtake them.
"That's my son! That's my boy!" The male, Darryl's father cried out. The female, Darryl's mother, had been reduced to a hysterical mess.
Red flames licked at Darryl's skin, as his eyes opened to his surroundings. He had been standing on a rocky platform, while peering green, ghoulish eyes surrounded him. He sniffed very quickly, before brimstone and burning skin engulfed his nose. "Hell? Oh, come on! I mean sure, I might have had premarital sex but who hasn't! Not cool man, not cool. I cry mistrial, mistrial I say! I want a panel of judges, not just god this time. Get me Simon Cowell, get me Randy Jackson, and get me Paula Abdul! I promise, my life has not been absolutely dreadful!" Once Darryl realized where he was, he began verbally assaulting the environment, and was distraught with his current situation.
"Silence." Darryl turned toward the deep, booming voice. He then found himself face to face with an elderly looking man. He bore a black trench coat, with matching pants and round-brim hat. His piercing red eyes looked down upon Darryl, while is long, white beard hung down to his navel. White, curly hair stuck out from his hat, and the look on his face was serious and stern.
"Look, Mr. Satan, I think this is some type of mistake. I mean, I sacrificed myself for others, do I really belong here?" The man chuckled a bit, before opening his crusted lip mouth.
"As flattering as that may be, I'm nowhere near Satan's level of power. He resides on the last level of hell. Here, you are within the eighth circle of hell. And my name is Cogliostro, but you may know me as Cain. And you are correct; you aren't supposed to be here. However, I have an offer for you. You can either, ascend into heaven where you belong, provided you withstand the trials of purgatory, or you can accept my challenge and return to the mortal plane with the power to protect."
"And just what do I have to protect anymore?" Darryl had been mostly at peace with his death, now that his loved one would be safe.
"Oh, she isn't safe Darryl." Reading Darryl's thoughts, Cain began to explain to Darryl of the syndicate that the three men had belonged to. He also explained how once someone from their syndicate was captured, killed, or arrested, the rest would be sure to destroy every connection to that person, which now included Darryl's girlfriend, mother, father, sister, and whomever else they could find.
"Then tell me, what do I have to do?" Darryl knew that no matter what, he had to protect them.
"Fight in a tournament. If you win, I will turn you into a hell spawn. However, if you lose, I will have no choice but to condemn you to the life of a demon." Cain offered the ultimatum to Darryl. With no thought, Darryl immediately replied: "I accept."