Chapter 1 - Conflict
On a clear winter midnight, a city had faced a heavy blizzard that left its streets with layers of ice and snow everywhere else. No cars could drive in the perilous streets, making travel by foot the only possible choice. However, the blizzard did not leave the city in a blackout, allowing its inhabitants to use the necessary refrigerators and heaters to survive comfortably. Only nightclubs and homes were to be filled at this time of night as the streets were left devoid of people.
Ever since the blizzard had begun, there have been disappearances of men and sometimes women. The city police tried to investigate the few that were reported by concerned families to no avail; their search would continue again when city conditions become better. The majority of the city did not know about the disappearances, for the people were too concerned of the effects of the blizzard affecting their own lives.
A young man in jeans and a black fleece jacket trudged out into a snowy city street from a restaurant. He was the only person in the street. A chilling wind constantly whispered its presence, brushing up against the man's messy black hair. He looked determined to complete a task that was given to him, but a familiar sadness filled his somber eyes. He suspected himself to be the only man in the city that has experienced the events that transpired in his past, yet he was unaware of the disappearances.
He turned around and saw a dark alleyway with many trash-bags right next to the restaurant, before staggering into it and looking around as if he was being watched. He not only visibly shook from the cold air, but from also the murky and narrow alleyway.
I don't know how it's going to end for me, he thought. But at least make it so I can expect it.
Soon, the young man found himself at the front of a very old wooden door. He placed his shivering hand on the rusty doorknob, and twisted it to reveal that it was unlocked. He slowly pushed the door into an even darker but bigger room. He strained his eyes in the darkness while stepping on the dusty concrete floor.
He regretted not bringing a flashlight, dreading the inability to see who or what was going to do the dirty job. An imagination of a knife and a bathtub full of steaming water back in his home felt easier to him. The unknown room he entered now felt so unnecessary to him that he shrugged it away despite its suspicious promise. An exasperated sigh showed his desire to turn back, not wanting to suffer any more time.
Just as the young man was going to head out of the room, two mysterious hands emerged from the darkness and grappled the bottom of his legs. With a powerful jerk he tripped, thrashing his chin against the stone floor.
"W-What's going on?!" he screamed while being dragged back into the darkness like a hapless doll. He scrambled against the smooth floor as his chin pinged with pain. He watched the door close on its own, promoting the growing darkness until there was not a ray of light.
Soon, the hands stopped dragging him across the floor. A grip on his body was briefly absent, before an unknown force gripped the cuff of his jacket and dragged him up to a standing position. Wracked with confusion, he darted his eyes everywhere to no avail. No longer feeling the grip of the foreign hands on his cuff, he could hear footsteps receding away from him.
Why did he send me here? He questioned himself.
"I was told that you are a good brawler" said a deep and foreboding voice as it echoed throughout the room. The young man tried to scrutinize the source of the voice, but it seemed to resonate equally within the entire room.
"My informant from the restaurant tells me your name is Ken. Correct?" demanded the voice. The man it was speaking to became infuriated as he immediately regretted venturing into a waste of time.
He used me. He fucking used me. The angered man muttered. I knew that it seemed too convenient when I talked to him. Now I am going to get…
"Am I correct?!" boomed the impatient voice, ruining his train of thought. He turned his open hands into fists as he gritted his teeth. He no longer had the desire to die, for he now wanted to fight. He swore to himself to go on a hunt for the one who betrayed him to this unknown man.
"Yes. My name is Ken." He gritted. "What do you want from me?!"
Somewhere in his mind, Ken could feel a smirk forming in the room. He wanted to grind that smirk off with his fist.
"Good. Now do as I say and you get to die quicker. Step forward" ordered the voice.
Ken grimaced a little to himself before he brought his right foot forward. He stepped on a movable object that went from side to side. He could hear cracking noises that resounded throughout the room. Ken lowered his head to attempt to see what he was stepping on.
The hanging fluorescent lights came on in the room to reveal the interior of a large warehouse with a gray cement floor and stone brick walls. Bloodied and mutilated bodies were strewn across the walls. Dried blood streaks streaked across the floor with all leading to where Ken was standing. What Ken had stepped on was the head of a corpse with its neck and bones brutalized. The wounds were not fresh, for the body seemed to remain there for a few days. Ken's face contorted with disgust as he lifted off his foot.
"He wasn't following the rules" said the voice as Ken looked up to see a very large bald man whose muscles were prevalent through his white bloodied shirt.
The supposedly fair brute crossed his arms with impunity. He stood in between a line of men who leered down at Ken on a rusty metal catwalk. A large sliding door that was slightly cracked was present below the catwalk. Ken shivered as he could feel eyes coming from the sliding door observing him.
"He tried to fight dirty with a very nice looking blade," justified the brute.
The bald man raised his hand, which prompted one of the men in the line to bring out the blade in question. Ken stepped back and eyed it as the blade was thrown towards the corpse, impaling right through its chest. The bald man twisted his hand to face a wall already filled with cadavers. The last man on the left of the line of 'henchmen' descended through a set of stairs to the ground and walked towards the skewered cheater. Ken observed the man, noting his large arm muscles and underdeveloped chest as he threw out the blade to the side, picked up the corpse, and threw it towards the wall. It banged against the wall before falling amongst other bodies.
"I want fist fights. That is all I want. Try to use a weapon or other kinds of help and we all will make sure your death is very slow and painful." The brute formed a suspicious grin. "Beat every single man in this line and we'll do whatever you wish, which can include death."
The man who threw the corpse squared up with his fists angled toward his own head at shoulder level. Ken sneered at the positioning of his fists as he began to look at the man's blood-streaked face. Sneering turned to curiosity with a glance at the strange pupils of the henchman.
Ken leaned his face closer to focus on his eyes, whose irises are red with a black center. Already at unease, Ken hesitantly squared up himself, extending his bent arm with the other arm closer to his chest with open hands. He spread out his legs to gain a better center of balance.
"Begin!" thundered the bald man, prompting Ken to tense his upper body muscles. He prepared himself for an almost endless beating that he believed he had to endure.
A reverberating and demonic roar surged out with so much force that a miniscule shockwave blew out from Ken's opponent. Ken staggered back from the shockwave, seeing the henchman spurt into a mad dash towards him with his hands ready to latch onto something.
As soon as Ken regained his balance, he readied himself for the charge. As soon as he was very close, Ken pivoted to one side and dodged the attempted tackle. The man found himself running into a wall, but he bounced back at that instant and charged towards Ken again.
Ken started to run towards the mad man as well. As soon as the two closed their distance, the lunatic leapt off the ground to lunge himself towards his dodger. Ken smirked as he began to crouch and spin with increasing speed.
After a full turn, Ken unleashed a rising uppercut onto his chin. Ken could hear a bone in the mad man's neck crack as he caused him to glance up. However, a devilish grin formed as two strong hands latched onto Ken's uppercut arm. The thumbs with long fingernails dug into Ken's skin, causing blood to slowly bleed out and Ken grimacing in pain. As he was brought to the air, Ken was also forced into a standing position from the grip.
"Get the hell off of me!" cried the grappled Ken.
His opponent proceeded to lock his arm, rendering Ken unable to use his uppercut arm. When he landed back down onto the ground, he stared Ken down with his head continually looking upwards. He sneered wickedly as he brought back his own arm, aiming a punch towards Ken's face.
With his mouth slowly oozing out blood streams, the lunatic brought forward a wild punch at Ken's head. Ken quickly tried to use his other hand to redirect its course towards the ground, but it was merely shoved out of the way as Ken took the hit on the side of his forehead.
His vision quickly blurred as his locked arm was soon released, being dropped to Ken's side as he staggered. Catching sight of another punch headed for his head, Ken ducked down and rolled haphazardly to dodge the incoming attack. He almost lost his balance by almost falling to the ground after his roll.
"Did my punch…even hurt?" muttered Ken.
Ken, delirious, was barely able to stand up and brace himself to face his cackling opponent. He forcibly brought his head down with a resounding cracking of neck bones, disgusting Ken with his power. As Ken's vision cleared up, he saw black vapor exhaled from his adversary's mouth.
"What are you?! There's no way you could have lived from that" yelled Ken, believing that he wasn't facing someone human, rather someone who was able to flinch off a bone breaking uppercut and feel just fine.
"He is one of us" answered the bald man on the balcony. "You too can be like him if you serve us. Puny humans like you have no chance against our kind. But you have potential since you are the first one to break his neck like that. You can have all this power and no one will be able to stand in your way nor will they question you. Retain your human appearance and become a superior race."
Ken hadn't suffered a concussion from the punch he took but he knew that anyone could suffer from it. He wasn't one to believe that being a specific race would determine your strength.
"And what's the name of this so-called superior race?" questioned Ken, not swayed by the tantalizing words of the bald man. He continued to watch the lunatic for any sudden moves, for Ken did not trust the brute's honesty.
"The Fomors" replied the bald man with pride. "The one you are struggling against is our newest initiate. He bravely fought against me and answered my call. And in return, I gave him enough to overpower your weak kind."
Ken's opponent nodded as he continued to smirk evilly at the narrow-eyed Ken. He scorned the name of the one who brought him into a recruitment ambush in the guise of euthanasia. Ken had no desire to gain power for he had no need of it. He just wanted to be out of the living world quickly and quietly; a task that could have been easily done in his home.
"Now, will you join us? Or do you wish to die? I can't promise it will be fast, for your opponent likes to take his time" asked the bald man, before crossing his arms again.
"I choose to die" snarled Ken, displeasing the bald man and his subordinates.
"So be it. Zann, knock him out after your fun with him is done. We'll turn him into a Fomor," ordered the bald man, contorting Ken's face in anger and making him turn towards the bald man.
"You said that I can die. Why won't you give me that chance?" yelled the cheated Ken.
"Because you are the best kind of recruit; you are unafraid to embrace death. What more could I ask for? I simply won't let you die that easily" answered the bald man, eagerly eying his possible new initiate.
"Then I'll make sure to kill you all myself before that happens" grimaced Ken, prompting the bald man to cackle.
Having experienced the punch from a Fomor, Ken knew that he would lose if he approached with a bare fist strategy. He knew he needed to wield a weapon of some kind that would kill him easily. With that in mind, Ken eyed the discarded blade near him while Zann primed himself for another charge.
Ken feinted, making it look like he was going to fight his adversary head on. He caused his opponent to beam at him with bloodied teeth. He enthusiastically ran towards Ken with a demonic gait, having his arms outstretched again.
Ken likened Zann to a bull running towards a red cape. His legs fidgeted as he invited a curious look from the leader of the henchmen.
As soon as the distance between them was small, Ken rolled to where the blade was while dodging the grab. As Zann began to turn back around, the bald man widened his eyes as he discovered Ken's plan of action.
"No! You fool! Stop!" quickly ordered the bald man while the rest of his men looked panicked and worried. But unfortunately, the newest initiate ignored his superior's orders and continued building up speed towards Ken. His face was lavished with the same evil smile and squinted eyes as he lunged himself again towards Ken. Ken quickly took up the blade with both hands before he made a thrust towards the head of the newest initiate.
The two forces collided, as the blade stabbed cleanly through Zann's head. However, Ken was pushed back to the ground through the momentum built up by the charge. He looked down to see the initiate dead on his legs and spilling fresh blood onto the cement floor through his mouth. A large sigh of relief escaped his mouth.
"Kill him!" boomed the bald man, shakily jabbing his left hand finger at Ken before sending the men to his right to go after him with frantic right hand motions. The men on his right did as he asked and vaulted over the balcony to the ground.
Ken welcomed his impending lynching as he sat back with his hands behind his back while stuck under a dead body. He gazed into the many men landing on the ground, whose murderous glares were soon facing him. This was the final part of his plan, to enrage the leader and get himself killed. A bittersweet happiness pulsed through his body, as he was ready to rise out of the unforgiving world.
"Now!" A young female voice resonated throughout the warehouse. The door below the balcony was knocked open, before a large metal pipe came out of it towards the men landing on the ground. The pipe knocked into them with such force that it caused some of them to fall over, with the rest of the confused men gaping at their fallen companions.
Two females charged out into the warehouse. One of the two wore a metallic jacket with a little knapsack on the back with a very short skirt and long boots. She wielded a claw hammer in one hand and a trashcan lid as a shield. With her blonde hair tied up in a voluminous ponytail, she looked like she was ready to raid an island.
The other female wielded a wooden stave with both hands while wearing a black metallic girdle with a furry scarf, a matching metallic skirt with large feathers on one side, and black booties with very long red stockings. With her black long straight bangs, she looked ready to hit some birds and break off their feathers.
Ken's mind was not occupied on the fact that his plan was foiled, but rather on the appearance of the two foreign-looking warriors. It was when he saw their seemingly unfounded wrath upon the henchmen that he wondered:
Are they saving me?
