In the Hands of Young Chôjin

By Son Rhandi

Chapter 03: "Way Under Down Under"

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After the long and arduous task of convincing Harabote that the situation was more than just some dMp retaliation, Meat and the New Generation saw their way to the nearest airport, taking nothing but the passports in their hands and the shirts on their backs (for those who wore shirts). Coach was a little something Gazelle thought beneath him, but the trip was free, so he couldn't complain too much, not when adoring fans were begging for his autograph. Terry, Seiuchin, and even Check had their share of crowds. Mantaro, however, could only remain on the outside looking in.

To Sydney, Australia the six of them flew, a popular tourist city. They hit the terminal, those wrestling few, unsure of what the next move was to be. That old pinniped happen to see someone holding up a sign bearing the Hercules Factory emblem, and so directed them all that-a-way. The bearer of the sign was a dapper-looking chauffer, an older gent with a fair complexion and white toothbrush mustache. "You all are the Muscle League's wrestlers?" He inquired with a mild Aussie accent.

"Yeah, that's us," Terry spoke, eyeing the man suspiciously.

"A limousine to Bondi Beach, courtesy of B and A. Follow me, please."

The mysterious letters again… Check took in a sharp breath through his nose. Was he getting closer to finding out just who it was…? They loaded into the vehicle, a freshly-waxed black limo. "Now this is more befitting of the Hercules Factory's Number One wrestler..!" The crimson buck smiled, reveling in the patented leather seating.

"You really need to find something else to boost your ego," Mantaro threw out. "That Number One thing is getting' kinda stale…" The muscle prince banged on the separator. "Hey, driver! Is there any food in this thing?"

"Knock it off," said Terry. "We can get something at the boardwalk."

Seiuchin could hardly contain himself. "Mmm… Think of all the fish we can catch..!" He wiped the drool from his muzzle.

"And all the things we can do!" Mantaro joined in. "Swimming, volleyball, water skiing…"

Gazelle Man stroked his chin, a sly smile creeping upon his face. "Bondi's pretty crowded this time of year. There'll be a lot of people on the beach, especially the ladies…"

"Remember now, this isn't a vacation," Meat reminded them all. "We're here to check out this invitation. This is serious business, you guys. We gotta find out just what all this is about..!" The miniature manager turned to Checkmate, who had been silent the entire way through, lost in thought. "Hey, Check." He placed a small hand on his arm. The chess master jumped a bit, startled out of his somber trance. "I can't tell ya not to worry, but I can tell ya we're with ya all the way. We'll get to the bottom of this."

The king cracked a forced smile, then returned to his former state, gaining only the concerned glances of his allies. It wasn't long before they came upon the world-renowned Bondi Beach, packed like a can of sardines. They were dropped off at the end of the parking lot and bid a g'day by the chauffer, watching as he sped off. "Y'know, I'll never get used to this whole 'driving on the left side of the road' thing…" the Texan shook his head. "So, what now? Are we just s'posed t' wait fer someone t' show?"

"Hmm…" Mantaro lowered his head, feigning serious thought. "Ah, I know!" He snapped his fingers. "I think we should go down to the beach..!"

Meat furrowed his brow. "Are you saying that because you think we'll find something there, or do you just want to run off and have fun?"

"Oh, Meat, of course I think we'll find something there!"

"If it's girls or food, forget it."

"Well, what else would you go to the beach for? Babes in bikinis and shrimp on the barbie should be enough for anyone!"

Seiuchin parted them before the conversation could deepen. "Uh, hey, guys… Where's Checkmate?" The pinniped inquired.

The chess set wrestler was seen far ahead of them, already making it to the start of the boardwalk. "Good sirs…" He called over his shoulder. "If thou art going to be of some help to me, then I implore thee, be of some help!"

He turned his back on them, continuing onward. The others could only stand there, mildly shocked.

"Woah…" The pig-faced prince scratched the back of his head. "I think we just got told…"

"Can ya blame 'im? He's just edgy. Let's stop horsin' around an' come on."

The six of them made their way down the boardwalk and to the sandy beach, stepping over all sorts of bodies as they went. The others kept their sights straight ahead, ignoring the temptation to get a better look at all the curves. Mantaro, however, shamelessly ogled, and Meat dragged him by the arm in doing his best to keep him from running off.

"Say…" Gazelle Man's ears shifted forward. "Sounds like there's a lot of excitement up ahead. I hear a crowd cheering. Should we check it out?"

"Gazelle Man, in what direction doth the sound ariseth?"

The crimson buck shifted each ear in opposite directions. "Hmm… It's more northeast. Try going further down, then where the lifeguard tower is off in the distance, bear right after it's been passed."

And so, following the stag's directions, they headed in a straight line further through Bondi, past the lifeguard tower, hanging right. Not much later, after a few more minutes of walking, the others were within earshot. The excitement of an audience, a sound familiar to them all, growing all the louder as they progressed. Checkmate, being at the head of the line, was the first to see what all the hubbub was about.

On the northeast side of the beach, a throng of spectators were gathered around what appeared to be a wrestling ring. Checkmate dashed to it, the others following close behind. They merged in, unnoticed by the crowd. There, on the canvas stood two strapping fellows: One, a burly human with a shark's head mask, and the other, a lanky but lean and muscular, spike-haired otter sporting a sleek pair of sunglasses and an orange life jacket.

"C'mon, yeah? Who's next, eh?" The marine animal shouted into the megaphone. "Who 'ere's gonna take on me buddy, Shark Man? All y'gotta do is stay in the ring for five minutes! C'mon, blokes! Impress the li'l sheilas and try your best to survive! You can say with pride that you lasted against a Chôjin!"

"Shark Man..?" Seiuchin furrowed his furry brow.

Mantaro turned to the walrus. "You know him?"

"I know of him. He's one of Ireland's Chôjin."

"Ireland, huh? He doesn't look very tough…"

"No, he really isn't. He's an average Chôjin, but no ordinary human could ever hope to last against him. I wonder why he's here..?"

"Hey." A man in the audience raised his hand. "I'll go."

"Awright! Step up, mate, and try your lu… Oh……"

The name 'Kevin Mask' was murmured throughout the crowd. He stepped to the ring and over the ropes, that Mask, his familiar pink t-shirt clinging to him in the Australian heat. "It's Kevin Mask! What's he doing here?"

The Kid took a finger to his chin. "Could he be involved?" He pondered.

"Uh… Well, great day in the mornin'! We got ourselves a real celebrity here! Okay! So it looks like ol' Shark Man'll be layin' into Kevin Ma… Oy!! Shark Man!! Where do you think you're runnin' off to?!"

The man stopped in his tracks, just steps away from the surf. "Uh…. I've been out of the water for a while, and my skin's getting pretty dry, so……" He dove into the ocean before any more explaining had to be done.

"Oy!! Oy!! Come back! We're supposed to be waiting for those Muscle League blokes!! Bloomin' idiot!" He threw down his megaphone, crushing it under his large, hairy foot.

"Did you hear that?" Meat exclaimed. "That must be the guy in leagues with those other three from before!"

Recomposing himself, he turned back to the crowd with a huge, toothy grin. "Uh, well, sheilas and blokes, we seems t' be short an opponent, so, ah….. Wait! Don't be leavin'! Oy!" The dissatisfied muttering of the spectators filled the air as they turned and headed back toward the main beach. "No!! Come back, yeah?! Oy… Apples, this ain't…"

"Well, if that's it," Kevin began. "I'll be leaving, too."

"Hey, Mask! What are you doing here?"

Kevin looked down from the ring. As the gathering of people thinned out, he caught sight of six conspicuous characters, none of which looking particularly happy to see him. "Hmph. Muscle Leaguers…"

The otter whipped his head around. Did he say 'Muscle Leaguers'? Sure enough. Anyone who was anyone could recognize the pig nose and swollen lips of the Kinniku family. Oh, blimey, what to do, what to do? That no-good Shark Man! Cripes, we were s'posed to fight these guys, too… Any layin' into I get won't be half as bad as anything' I'll get from El Matador… Best to carry on, then.

"Unlike you chaps, I'm free to go where I want whenever I want. Right now, I feel like relaxing on Bondi Beach. Now, might I ask you the same?"

"We're here…" Terry pointed to the gangly otter. "…for him…"

"Hideous dog creature, your attention!!" Checkmate clenched his fist tightly. "Art thou of the same vile scum which hath slain my master? Loosen thy tongue!"

The otter turned his head to Checkmate. "…Oy! I'm not a dog!! I'm an otter!! The name's Wesley Blue, and we make up Team Aquatics, or the full name, Nautical Chôjin Wrestling Team, the Mighty Aquatics Rangers! Hah!" Blue stood on his left leg, drew his right up, stuck his right arm in the air, and held the left one across his chest.

The others just stood there, taken aback by the sudden display. "……You said 'we'," Gazelle began. "But you only announced yourself…"

"Cripes, man! Lay off! Shark Man swam off just now and the Crustacean Kid, our other guy, was carried off by a giant albatross the other day, so I'm doin' me best right now! And anyway," Blue smoothed back his fur. "To answer the question, yes, but I think 'vile scum' is a bit much, yeah?"

Kevin turned to the six in the sand. "What's all this, then?"

"Sunshine is dead," Meat briefed him. "That guy's with the crowd that killed him."

Kevin's yellow eyes widened. "The old Legend, Sunshine..?!" The diminutive fellow nodded in response.

"Well, blokes, now that introductions are out…" the marine animal gave his back a good stretch. "Let's have a brawl, yeah?" They all gave him quizzical looks. "You wanna know more about this, right? The organization, Bloody Arms?"

Terry narrowed his eyes. "So, that's what the letters stand for….."

"Right you are, mate!" Blue walked over to the front of the ring, leaning his top half over the cordage. "So, if you want me to tell you anything, we gotta duke it out, y'see. So, who wants this one…?"

Checkmate began to step forward, but Terry's outstretched arm halted his advance. "Save yer strength fer right now, Check, though I don't think it'd take much to beat this polecat. Save it for his boss." The chess master complied, grudgingly.

"Well, I took the last water match with Crione Man back then, so I'm good." The muscle prince turned to his deer companion. "Gazelle?"

"Sea air does nothing for me. This job calls for Seiuchin, I think."

"Me?" The pinniped twiddled his thumbs. "Well, we could ask Kevin Mask if he…"

"Sorry, but this isn't my problem." The Mask man reappeared ringside, seated comfortably in a metal folding chair.

"Don't all rush in now…" Meat muttered under his breath.

Checkmate had had enough. He may as well just left by himself, the useless buffoonery that these Muscle Leaguers brought was becoming insufferable. "Twits!" He pushed Terry the Kid aside and stepped to the ring, tossing his checkered cape to the beach. This would be the beginning of it, then. This ugly water dog would be the first on his list of paybacks. This feeling of loathing was familiar to him. It reminded his of the way he used to be, that Checkmate who so despised his opponents and fought in the ring with smoldering hate, a terrible feeling. Terrible like the tortured expression on his Sunshine's face…

"My body doth remember the heat of the flames, knave, I perspire," he began in a quiet, angry tone. "Thou and thy associates hath left me with nothing, not a home to go to nor a person to wait there for me. Thou shalt be the first to feel the wrath of the Nightmares!"