Unreal Tournament Chapter II
Internal Demons Unveiled

Mikhail had nearly fallen asleep on his way back to his apartment. He was so tired. All he wanted to do was sleep so he could have enough energy for his next match. He shouldn't have spent those last few hours at the damn bar. When he finally reached his apartment parking lot, he nearly slammed into another hover car as he parked. He wondered how tired Janice was right now, since he had seen her at the bar. At least he had seen her until he had gotten drunk.
Right now, he wondered if he was ever going to actually get into his apartment. Being tired and half drunk wasn't really all too good of a combination. He nearly collapsed on his way to his door. He had barely been able to pick himself up. When he finally reached his door, he fumbled with the key card. Mik nearly broke the card as he slammed it into a small part of the wall above the slot. He got it on the second try and the door slid up into the ceiling. He shambled through the doorway and forgot to lock the door. All he cared about right now was finally going to only pieces of armor that he bothered to take off was the upper body armor. He fell onto his bed, half asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
He woke up at around two o'clock with a start. He was bathed in a cold sweat. He knew that he probably wouldn't get back to sleep, but he had to try so he could have enough energy for his next match. As he lay in bed, he wondered why he had woken up. It wasn't a dream, because he rarely had those anymore. Mik sat back up and looked around the room for something that may have fallen or something like that. He noticed a dark figure sitting against the wall near the door to his bedroom. He decided not to waste anymore energy and find out who or what it was in the morning. Or whenever he woke up.
Mikhail shot up as he heard his alarm clock beep.... Since when did I have an alarm clock? he thought. He nearly smashed the damn thing trying to get it to turn off. Once he had finally accomplished that task, he remembered the thing near the door and twisted his head around to see if it was still there. As he thought it would be, it was gone. Most likely some person that let themselves in last night, he thought. He lay back down and actually looked at the time on the clock. It was around nine o'clock. He had three hours until his next match at noon.
He got up and out of bed and realized that someone had taken off the rest of his armor. He ignored that fact and went to the refresher. He took a cold shower to wake himself up. He dressed himself in a skintight, black, undershirt and dark grey cargo pants. He went back into his bedroom and grabbed his helmet. It reminded him of his first few matches, the only ones when he had actually worn the damn thing. He remembered how comfortable it had been to wear into combat. Then a few more distant memories drifted to the front of his mind, and he forcibly shunted them out of his head.
A low growl drifted up from his throat as even more memories came. All he wanted to do was forget everything about his past and focus on the present. Really the only thing he wanted to remember were the other times he had entered into the tournaments. He had been in the tournaments ever since Malcolm had defeated Xan. He should have went with Xan to train when he had the chance. Even if had gotten killed by the robot, it would definitely be better than the life he was living right now.
He had been in the top ten before Malcolm and the Thunder Crash came. Brock, Lauren, Malcolm... Xan, even... He hated them all. The ones in Thunder Crash especially. Again, he shunted those thoughts from his mind. He set the helmet into a box specially designed to hold the helmet and kicked it into the back of his closet. At least he hadn't kicked the helmet itself this time. He fell back onto his bed and stared up at the ceiling. The tournaments had become boring for him. Each year, he would win the preliminaries, but his team would absolutely suck. The only year he had a good team, years, actually, was before Thunder Crash.
Everybody had joined Malcolm, Brock, and Lauren, all except one man. But that man had soon retired from the tournaments. The only reason he hadn't joined was because he had been planning on running his own team that year. He sat up and finally got rid of the thoughts. Mik stood up and walked out into the , out of anger, he punched the right side of the doorway to the kitchen and took away a chunk of the wall. He smiled. That would knock out the sliding door for a couple of weeks. Can't wait to harass the repairman, he thought, unless if they send a damned robot. He frowned. Then he decided to take out another piece of the wall. He decided not to wait around the apartment any more and go to the arena, even though there'd be a match going on. It would probably be good to watch something actually entertaining. And it would keep his mind occupied... actually it wouldn't. The only thing that would keep his mind occupied was being drunk.
"Incoming video call. Number 935-2937, name; Paul Makotes," a female synthetic voice chimed. Before he hit the button to activate the call, he slammed his fist into the screen. "No video. You know I don't like to watch people just standing there with their lips moving." "Guess I forgot. But couldn't you have just deactivated the vid screen instead of destroying it again?" Even though he couldn't see him, Mik knew Paul was smiling. He sighed. "You're lucky. I was just about to leave for my match." He heard Paul snort and Mik couldn't help but smile, "Your match isn't scheduled 'til noon. You have a couple hours." "I know. I just wanted to watch a couple of the rookies. It seems I might have a 'better' team this year." "The emphasis on the word 'better' doesn't make me feel good. What are you going to do to them?"
Mik grinned wickedly and said, "Same thing I do every year. Hire some newbies, train them and squeeze out the weaklings. It's the best way. You would be a great help, if you weren't retired." There was silence between them for a few moments. "Am I able to come back this year?" Paul finally said. "I can pull some strings to get you into the secondary bracket of the preliminaries, but that's the best I can do. Prize money ain't great--" "It's gotta be better than what I'm getting now." Mik shook his head and wondered what his old friend could be doing that was worse than the secondary brackets of the prelims. "Don't tell me what you're doing right now, because I don't want to know. I'll talk to some of the recruiters. I'll get you in." "Great. At least I get to kill legally again." That raised Mik's eyebrow. Then he said, "Who," as a command rather than a question. "Some guy tried to mug me. Couldn't he realize that I used to be in the Tournaments? Kids today don't know who was their hero back when they were ten years old. That's just sad." "I know. How'd you kill him?" Paul sighed, "Snapped his neck when my arm came swinging around as he tried to stab me. At least that's all I really remember. Some of the witnesses said I even beat up his dead body and ripped it apart. And, apparently, I did, because there wasn't much of his body left to be burned."
Mik sighed. "Damnit! I know that you'll be able to get into the secondary brackets, but only because of me, and remember; keep everything IN THE ARENA! If I find out you have done anything to anybody outside of the arena, I'm gonna drop you out. Got that?" Paul chuckled, "I'll have to keep everything in the arena, since I'll be kept in a cell near there." "Yeah, well, I don't want any of my teammates in jail, so I'm gonna bail you out. But if you get into trouble again, I won't bail you out and I'll drop you out of the tournaments. I gotta go now. I'll see what I can do for you." Mik deactivated the phone and shut it down for good.
He liked to ruin things at the expense of other people's happiness. He grabbed his armor and put it on, one piece at a time. Paul could piss him off a lot some of the time, but he couldn't stay mad at him for long. There was just something about the man that made him so likable. He decided to take his helmet with him in a duffel bag. It was time to use it again. He strapped the duffel over his shoulder and walked out the door. He decided to leave it unlocked on purpose so the place would most likely be destroyed by the time he got back. Or if he got lucky, everything would be stolen. He tossed the duffel bag into the passenger's seat and slid himself into the driver's seat of the hover car. He hit the ignition key and drove wildly around the parking lot before heading off in the direction of the arena.
He decided to wait until after he had gotten Paul into the tournaments to bail him out. I'll bail him out after my match, he thought. That might take a while. He walked into the ready room and over toward his locker when he heard shouting over by the holoscreen. He returned his attention to his locker and entered the combination. He opened it and shoved the duffel bag into it. Mik looked over his shoulder at the holoscreen and it showed Nighteye, Kain, and Phantom going at it on Spirit. He glanced at his wrist watch and it said 9:34. He had a couple hours left before his match still. And it might pay to watch Nighteye, since Mik was planning to hire him onto his team this year. He walked up toward the holoscreen and tried to get a view of the match.
The entire group was composed of mostly rookies, except for a few more experienced ones. As far as Mik could tell, he was the oldest and had the most experience out of the entire group watching the screen. He looked at the score and read "Nighteye is in the lead with nine kills!" Damn, he thought, it's almost over. He stared at the screen as it finally showed Nighteye as he fired his shock rifle at Phantom, and, in return, Phantom fired his lightning gun at Nighteye. One lightning bolt connected with Nighteye's chest, which immediately burst into flames as the extreme heat generated by the bolt burned his fur. Then one shock round connected with Phantom's head, making Nighteye's tenth kill. He watched the wolf fall backwards, his chest still aflame. He looked over his shoulder and followed a team of medics with his gaze to the arena floor.
He turned away from the screen and walked back to his locker. He grabbed the lock and pressed his hand tightly around it. If he couldn't destroy it by his strength alone, his willpower would at least aid as he closed his eyes. His head slumped forward and his hand slipped away from the lock, revealing it only partially crushed. His hand landed on his knee and his head finally connected with the locker door. Inside his anger and hatred swelled around.
He woke up around two hours later, his eyes shooting open and burning with hatred. This had been a trance he could easily slip into and it helped him find the energy to continue on through the tournaments. All he had to do was forcefully 'fall asleep' and only bring thoughts and dreams of his parents and former friends. He made sure that he kept up the constant flow of those thoughts throughout his match. This had been the thing that made him a sort of legend in the tournaments. It had made him Most Ruthless Player of the Year once. This was supposed to be a ruthless sport, but the way he played was usually against the regulations.
He stood up and ripped the lock away from the locker, permanently destroying it. Mik ripped the locker open and grabbed the duffel bag inside. He grabbed it at it's sides and began to stretch it past it's limit. The nylon strands tore under the force of Mik's pulling. The box inside fell to the ground and nearly cracked, but didn't. He raised his fist and slammed it down onto the crate, splitting it into thousands of fragments. He picked up the helmet and slid it over his head. The visor immediately warmed and showed his biosigns, armor strength, ammo, and weapons. The only reason he was wearing the helmet was because it was the only way to hide his eyes from the guards.
They had been told to watch for him and his ability to control his anger in very destructive ways.
He had just about half an hour before his match, so the trance might wear off a little before the match before his would finish. Other than that, he would definitely win. He walked toward the hallway to the arena floor and stopped at the entranceway. Mainly because there were guards that prevented any other contestants from going out to screw up the match. The other reason was because he had to maintain the steady flow of thoughts in order to keep the trance working. And he wanted to be the first one out there.
He stood and waited for about thirteen minutes before one of his opponents approached him. He stood next to him and watched him with the corner of his just stood there, nearly oblivious to the man standing next to him. Several minutes passed before Mik's opponent said, "What are you doing?" in a low whisper. Those words nearly brought him out of his trance. In as low of a whisper as possible, Mik said "If you wish to live, please go. If you bring me out of my trance now, you will surely die before you can even let out a scream." He felt the man take a step farther away from Mikhail, and he had enough sense to not say anything back at him. At least one of his opponents was smart. He hadn't met the other one yet. And he hoped he wouldn't before the match, because he had to stay in the tournaments. Soon he was able to slip back into the trance.
Then he felt a presence walking up to him with an aura of anger and hatred about it. He couldn't tell whether this one was male or female. He felt that she had the intent of stirring him and trash talking him. If she was able to complete this objective, she would be killed almost instantly, as would everyone near him. Then he felt a strong presence step in front of him to stop the other person. He could tell that this one was his first opponent. He heard a female yell, "Out of my way! He needs to be woken up!" "I wouldn't really advise that. He needs to finish up first." "Finish what?" Mik opened his eyes and the reddish-black sheen was so bright that the woman could see them through the black visor. Her eye's widened and she was nearly paralyzed in fear as she took a step backwards.
Several other combatants noticed the small amount of light as it quickly faded... and so did some of the guards. As the sheen finally faded back into his normal blueish-green eyes, his pose slackened a bit so he wasn't standing completely straight. He felt his senses had been amplified ten times what they had been. He could hear a whisper up to 30 meters away. He could feel the presence and the unique feel of everyone in the room. Mik could make out the details of an eye at very long distances. There really wasn't much that could hide from him now. Except for an animal itself, like a wolf. If he could do this for every match, he would only have Nighteye as a rival.
Finally, Mikhail and the other two were called into the main room. He didn't really care what his opponent's names were, since this was really the last time he would see them. They came in right after Mikhail did, and they were soon transported to Tokara Forest. His eyes darted around like fireflies, taking in every detail they could. He smelled the scent of the tree's emerald lifeblood. He saw small dots of light falling from the tree tops. He heard the small chirps of crickets and grasshoppers. It was time to kill.