"494...495...496...497...498...499...500!" Loincloth exclaimed as he threw the 30 ton barbell onto the ground, which dug itself into the dirt upon impact. His heart was pumping, the muscles in his arms throbbing, and sweat dripping down his face. It was a good feeling. If there was one addiction that he could consider to be a good one, it was an addiction to vigorous exercise and training.
Wiping the sweat off his face with a towel, Loincloth gazed upon the mirror he had set up on the tree and observed his tattooed form. Tattoos which covered his body from neck to ankle and only got because they increased the power of his angelic magics. Magics which he no longer had due his status as a fallen angel. He also took note of his hair, black as night and reached down to his heels. He was always told he should cut it, but Loincloth had grown attached to the lion mane his hair has grown into over the years.
Wanting to further examine his gains, Loincloth began posing in front of the mirror. With every pose and flex, he could see every inch of definition within his muscles. The arms, the legs, the abs. While his hair made it difficult to see his back muscles, he could certainly feel them. Putting them all together and one got the culmination of thousands of years of training and battle. The body of a god.
"Shall I get some oil to rub on yer oh so magnificent physique? Make it shine and glisten like gold in the summer sun?" A voice asked.
Loincloth groaned. Of course he had to be interrupted. God forbid he enjoyed his body in peace.
"What do you want, Flat Cap?" He asked in return.
"There's trouble. Ghost related trouble."
"I didn't hear any lightning strike."
"No need fer one. Haven't ye watched the news this morning?"
Loincloth shook his head.
"And ye call me ignorant. Well, you're gonna wanna get dressed cause we're in fer a doozy today."
Doozy was right. According to Channel 7 News, it wasn't just one ghost, but a whole army of them. All sailing straight for Puntang in a massive ghostly warship that looked like it was pieced together from scrap metal. The local navy and airforce tried to sink the vessel, but their weapons didn't do a damn thing to it. Of course they didn't. Mortal weaponry has no effect on supernatural entities like ghosts.
To make things worse, the ghosts counterattacked with their own ramshackle planes and missiles, which tore the human forces to pieces. Observing the approaching craft from the beach with a pair of binoculars, one question permeated Loincloth's mind.
"Where the hell did they all come from?"
"A meteor fell into the Atlantic Ocean a few days ago." Flat Cap answered, "So my guess is that the meteor was really a crashin' starship and these lads are the souls of the crew that was aboard."
"You sure?"
"Loik I said, it's just a guess."
"Well, it wouldn't be the first time we had to deal with alien ghosts. Let's get to work."
Loincloth put away the binoculars, climbed onto Tighty Whitey's flatbed, and put on his earphone. Flat Cap put his on as well then got in the driver's seat and started her up then pressed a button.
"FLIGHT MODE ENGAGED." A mechanical voice spoke.
Wings appeared from the underside of the truck, it's wheels transformed into rocket propellers, and machine guns appeared on it's front. Loincloth gripped tightly onto the handlebar on top of the truck as it took off into the sky. Soon after he heard Flat Cap's voice over the earphone.
"Shame your wings are too small to carry your fat arse!"
"Just get me within landing distance of the ship! I'll take care of the planes that haven't been deployed, you deal with the ones in the sky."
As they flew closer to the ship, one of the humans' jets came up next to them.
"Attention flying truck." The pilot said, "You are interfering in an active military operation. If you do not leave this air space, I'll be forced to-"
The human didn't get to finish his warning as he was then shot down in a hail of bullet fire.
"Jesus fuckin' Christ!" Flat Cap exclaimed.
"Bet this reminds you of your own time in the airforce!" Loincloth said.
"Not somethin' I loik to remember! Considerin' I was the one who got shot down!"
"Well, I'm sure you won't let that happen again. See you on deck!"
Loincloth then leaped off the truck and dived straight to the warship like a bombshell. The only sounds filling his ears were that of rushing wind, zooming planes, and bullet fire. Just before landing on the ship, Loincloth readjusted his body so that he would land on his feet. The impact caused a large dent in the ship's metal surface and knocked back several crew members and planes.
When the dust cleared, he stood up and took a moment to observe this ghostly crew. A majority of them were large and muscular with protruding lower jaws and beady eyes. The rest were the size of small children and had long pointed ears and hook noses. Their clothing, or at least the parts of the ghosts' being that resemble clothing, were just as ramshackle as their ship and planes, like something out of a post-apocalyptic movie.
"OI!" One of them shouted, "Youz can't be 'ere! Dis iz a git free ship! Get 'em boyz!"
'Holy hell.' Loincloth thought, 'And I thought Flat Cap had a thick accent.'
The larger ghosts then came rushing at the giant, either with crude weapons or just their bare fists. Loincloth readied his axe and proceeded to slash, punch, kick, and toss every one that got within arm's reach, occasionally catching glimpses of ghostly planes being shot down by Flat Cap. They were certainly numerous as for every one he slayed, two more came forward, eager for blood. Loincloth was actually starting to sweat from the fighting.
However, as numerous as they were, they weren't endless. After what felt like an hour of combat, the ghosts started to understand that this was a fight they couldn't win and began to flee to the ship's interior. Before he pursued them, Loincloth took this opportunity to destroy the stationed planes by grabbing one and slamming it into the others, causing them to fall into the sea. With that done, he contacted Flap Cap.
"Runway's clear. You good on your end?"
"Not quite." Flat Cap answered, "I got one of these bastards on me tail and I can't shake them. I'd really appreciate some help."
"You seriously can't deal with one plane?"
"I'm flyin' a fuckin' pickup truck 'ere! What it 'as in firepower, it sadly lacks in maneuverability!"
Loincloth groaned. "Alright, give me a second."
He then looked around the deck for something he could use. A wrench, scrap metal, a shaking bucket, a crude swor- Wait a shaking bucket? He walked towards the bucket and slowly picked it up, revealing one of the small, hook nosed ghosts that had been hiding under it. It ceased shaking and turned it's head towards me with fear in it's eyes.
"...You'll do."
Loincloth grabbed the ghost by it's head and looked around for the plane chasing Flat Cap. The moment he found it, he gripped the ghost tightly and spun around to gain enough momentum before launching it through the air. Going..going...going...aaaand…..boom. Direct hit. As he watched the ghostly craft fall into the sea, Loincloth noticed Flat Cap turn the truck and made his way to the runway.
"That's seven times now, Flat Cap. Really starting to get sick of this."
"Bite me, arsehole." Flat Cap spat. "Next time you can fly the truck."
Once he landed, Flat Cap came out with his thompson gun in hand.
"So, 'ow many coins did ya get from these bastards?"
"None, sadly. It means the one that really counts must be the leader, who is no doubt somewhere inside the ship."
"You're shittin' me."
"Nope."
"Fuck...Well, we better get movin' then."
"Yep."
The angels then entered the ship's interior and had to deal with numerous ambushes and traps set up by the ghosts. But between Loincloth's brawn and Flat Cap's somewhat sober wit, they were easy to overcome. Eventually, the angels stumbled upon a large doorway that screamed 'Head Ghost Inside'. Spikes, skulls, torches, the works. Pushing Flat Cap aside, Loincloth kicked the door open and they marched inside.
The room was dark and empty. Not a sound to be heard except the muffled bullet fire from outside and occasional rumble from torpedos hitting the ship's hull. When they reached the center of the room, a deep, booming voice spoke, echoing all around them.
"Well, well, well. Ain't dis a surproise? Two softie gitz reekin' 'avoc on me ship. I'll admit, I'z ratha impressed. Ya gave me boyz a good krumpin' and had 'em runnin' loik pansiez. So I fink it be only fair dat I repay ya in koind!"
There was a loud thump behind them and when they turned, the angels gazed upon a gigantic silhouette, far larger than Loincloth, with two beady eyes that glowed a crimson red staring directly down at them. As they readied ourselves for a fight, the silhouette inhaled and released a bellowing roar as dozens of torches were suddenly lit ablaze, illuminating the room, which in reality was really a gladiatorial arena and they were greeted the sight and sounds of hundreds of ghosts who howled with their leader, whose visage was now made clear to them.
His appearance was quite similar to the other ghosts. Pointed ears and protruding lower jaw with tusks. His most distinctive feature, besides his height, was his metallic right arm which ended with a crab-like claw instead of a hand.
"You two should feel 'onored. It ain't everyday that someone comes along wit enuff foight in 'em tae challenge da great Dickbag Nutbusta."
'"Dickbag what now?" Loincloth asked with confusion as Flat Cap doubled over in laughter.
"Oh sweet Mary and Joseph! Me sides, I can't!"
"OI! Stop ya laffin', ya hairy grot!"
"Can you really blame him? Your name is kind of silly. Not to mention immature."
"I'll show ya immature!" Dickbag growled before he swiped his metallic claw at the angels. Thankfully, Loincloth managed to grab Flat Cap and pull him along as he dodged it.
"Alright, here's the plan. I'll draw his attention while you pick at him with some well-placed shots. Got it?"
Flat Cap obviously didn't hear Loincloth as he was still giggling at the ghost's name.
"Come on, it's not funny."
"It's pretty funny tae me, lad."
"Then your sense of humor is about as childish as his name. Now focus!"
The following battle was intense. Dickbag was far more resilient than anticipated. The bullets from Flat Cap's gun just bounced off it's hide and Loincloth couldn't get close enough for a hit with his axe without risking his face getting sliced into threes or his body impaled by the ghost's mechanical claws. This forced the angels to remain constantly on the defensive, trying to find some sort of opening or weakness.
"This ain't lookin' good, Loins."
"Yeah….It's looking great." Loincloth replied with a grin.
"How the fuck is this great?! Me gun isn't doin' shite and ya can't land a hit on 'em! At this rate, we're gonna get pummeled into paste!"
"Flat Cap...Do you have any idea how long it's been since I had a real challenge? An opponent whose strength is equal to my own? A proper test of my abilities? I'm starting to think this ghost can provide that."
"Wha..I don't...What the fuck are ya talkin' about?!"
Loincloth stood up straight and tossed his axe to Flat Cap's feet then walked towards Dickbag.
"Make sure we're not interrupted."
"Uuuuh, Loins. I think ye got our roles confused here. Yer supposed be the smart one and I'm the one who does the stupid shite. Loins? Loins! Fer fuck's sake, think about what yer doin'! Are you even listenin' tae me?!"
"Oh ho ho, wot be dis?" Dickbag chortled, "Not only are ya comin' at me 'ead on again, but youz doin' it without yer choppa or 'elp from yer mate? Youz eitha got propa brass or a grot's brain. Eitha way, I'z gonna enjoy rippin' ya tae shreds."
"Not as much as I'll enjoy pummeling your ugly face into the dirt."
Loincloth then dashed towards the ghost, clenching his right hand and delivering a hard right hook to his jaw and he was pleasantly surprised when it didn't go flying off his skull. Good. It could take a hit. But that next question was: Could it dish out one too? Loincloth would have my answer in the form of a backhand that sent him flying into the arena walls, smashing through them like a wrecking ball.
As Loincloth laid in the rumble, he began to taste blood. His blood. He wiped my face and saw a streak of it on his leather glove. Not only did it hurt, but it made me bleed. 'Finally.' He thought then stood from the rubble and hopped back into the arena.
"That the best you got?"
"I'z just gettin' warmed up!"
"Then fucking hit me, you overgrown pile of ectoplasmic shit!"
Dickbag roared in response and rushed towards Loincloth. He did the same.
As their fight raged on, there was nothing on Loincloth's mind but the pain from Dickbag's blow and the taste of his own blood filling his mouth. Loincloth wanted more. He needed more. Every successful hit Dickbag dealt would be further confirmation of his worthiness as an opponent. That Loincloth could grow ever stronger as a result of this fight. Loincloth threw punch after punch, demanding the humongous ghost to give him more. To give him that confirmation that yes, he was indeed worthy and that he would indeed grow stronger.
However, it was not until Loincloth had thrusted his fist through Dickbag's chest that he snapped back to reality. Pulling it out, Loincloth realized he did more than just sock the gargantuan ghost in the face. He had also ripped off his mechanical claw and used it to sever it's legs before he delivered the final blow. To top it of all, aside from that backhand, Dickbag wasn't able to land another successful hit. Hell, he barely even had enough time to attempt it as Loincloth kept mercilessly beating him and countering the attempts he could make.
Looking at Dickbag's broken and defeated state, he sighed. "Flat Cap." He held out his right hand, "My axe." Flat Cap broke out his own state of shock upon hearing his name and tossed the giant his axe. Loincloth caught it and in one motion decapitated Dickbag. As the ghost exploded and his remains scattered, Loincloth stared at his goo-covered fist. Where he had just felt pain and joy was now replaced with bitter disappointment. He had overestimated his opponent and gotten his hopes up. All because he had a little tough skin and managed to nick his jaw. Had he grown that desperate?
"'E killed da boss…" Loincloth heard a ghost say.
"Krumped 'im good 'e did."
Suddenly the ship started to violently rumble and shake.
"WE'Z ALL GONNA DIE!"
"RUN FER IT, LADZ!"
"GET TAE DA LIFEBOATZ!"
The ghosts poured out of the arena, pushing and shoving each other as they fled while the ramshackle ship began to fall apart.
"Seems to me loik ole Dickbag was the only thing keepin' this chunk o' junk together. We better 'igh tail it before we become fish food."
"Yea...Let's go."
The angels hurried out of the arena and out onto the deck, where we saw two of the hook-nosed ghosts trying to fly Panty Raid away from the rapidly sinking ship.
"Oh no you don't!" Loincloth shouted as he grabbed the truck just before it took off then grabbed onto the deck itself with the other arm, digging his fingers into the ghostly metal. As the full power of the truck's rockets stretched and strained his arms, Flat Cap tossed the ghosts out of the truck. As soon as he got in and the truck landed back on the deck, Loincloth hopped into the flat bed. "Punch it!"
The truck took off like a bullet and as Loincloth held onto it's sides, he looked back and saw the warship fall apart and sink with the remaining ghosts either swimming away or zooming off in different directions in motor-powered lifeboats. So many poured from the ship that he couldn't help but think that they may cause trouble again in the future, but most of them went either back East or headed South so if they did, it sure as hell wouldn't be their problem.
"Alright," Flat Cap began," Lemme first start out by sayin'...that...was fuckin' incredible, lad! Punchin' through 'is chest like some Mortal Kombat shite! Holy shite, mate! A thousand and one apologies fer doubtin' ya! Just goes tae show that there ain't nothing too big, too tough, or too nasty fer ya to beat! Ain't that right, Loins?...Loins?"
"Just get us home…" Loincloth sighed.
"So much fer celebratin'. Oh and by the way, did you happen to grab the coins before we left?"
Loincloth inhaled and held the bridge of his nose. He was so busy lamenting that he had forgotten all about the coins.
"I'll take yer silence as a no, then. No big deal, though. As tough as 'e was, any coins he did drop would've been worthless anyways. At least ye had fun, right? Certainly looked loik it from where I was standin'."
Fun. That's a word Loincloth hasn't used to describe fighting for a long time now. While it was fleeting, he certainly did enjoy himself. When they landed on the beach, the angels were greeted by a host of humans and news reporters who wasted no time taking pictures and asking numerous questions when Flat Cap stepped out of the truck, who basked in the praise they were receiving.
"I tell him to take us home and he decides to garner attention instead. Typical." Loincloth grumbled as hopped out of the truck and made my way through the crowd of humans, shielding his eyes from the camera flashes. Flat Cap may enjoy the spotlight, but he didn't. Upon exiting the beach area, Loincloth heard two voices behind him.
"Wait!"
"Yeah, wait up!"
He turned and saw two young human boys, brothers he assumed, running up to him.
"Man, for a big guy, you sure are fast!" The older brother said.
"I was just walking, though." Loincloth pointed out.
"Still, you're pretty fast." The younger brother said.
"Look, if you kids are looking for an autograph, you came to the wrong person."
"Actually, we wanted to give you something."
"Yea! As thanks for beating up all those meanie ghosts!"
This was a surprise to Loincloth. Normally Flat Cap's the one who gets gifts. He even has a fan club if he remember correctly. These two seemed quite enthusiastic about their gifts so he figured why not? He'll bite.
"Alright, show me." He said, kneeling down.
The elder brother held up a hand-drawn picture of what Loincloth assumed to be him beating up a three-headed ghost, it's quality being what you'd expect from a pre-teen. He didn't recall fighting a ghost like that but chances are he might've in the past. They were certainly more numerous six years ago. The younger brother meanwhile had a necklace of canine teeth with a bird skull in the center, which was a little unexpected.
"Well, do what you think?" The elder brother asked with a great big smile.
If Loincloth was brutally honest, he'd say the drawing is quite poor and the craftsmanship of the necklace is mediocre at best, but these were kids so quality wasn't something they mastered yet.
"Hmm, not bad." Loincloth answered.
"We worked super hard on them!" The younger brother exclaimed.
"And it shows. Thank you."
He took the picture and necklace and watched the boys run off back to the beach, either to find their parents or to try and get a photo with Flat Cap, who was currently playing a tune on his banjo.
The next day, Loincloth woke up and carried out his morning routine until he saw the picture which he nailed next to his mirror along with the bone necklace. While the drawing was indeed poor, the thoughtfulness of it was enough to make Loincloth's lips form a light smile. He then picked up the necklace and tied it around his neck. Looking in the mirror, it fit quite nicely with his barbarian aesthetic.
"Oi Loins!" He heard Flat Cap shout as he threw open the door, "Quit suckin' yerself off and get to the truck! We got ghost trouble!"
Two ghosts in the same week? Loincloth didn't know whether to be joyful or concerned. He put on his leather gauntlets and ran out with Flat Cap. Hopefully this ghost had coins that were actually of some value. A thought soon crossed Loincloth's mind. All these ghosts over the past two weeks and he hasn't seen either of those two demons. Especially the one who always came at him like a starving dog to a piece of meat. Maybe someone finally killed him or he did it himself. Either way, it would certainly explain why they've had little trouble lately.