In the Hands of Young Chôjin

By Son Rhandi

Chapter 06: "A Herculean Task"

Mantaro had arrived on the scene to aid the animal combination, keeping a brave front despite the urine spraying from his pants, around the time Hoffman (with Bighorn in tow) called the ninjas and their scissor-headed companion to retreat. It was a welcome thing for all three of them, the Muscle Leaguers, the sudden withdrawal of those Bloody Arms wrestlers. Terry the Kid explained the situation to his parents during that frame of time, about Sunshine and Checkmate and the damnable organization, Bloody Arms…

Checkmate watched them all run off into the sunrise, breathing a relieved sigh once they disappeared over the horizon. He turned to enter the stables, sighting Mantaro and Seiuchin. The two were huddled around Gazelle Man, who was clutching his left shoulder, blood trickling down his arm. "Sir Gazelle, what is thy status?"

The three looked up. "Checkmate…" Mantaro muttered.

"It's just a scratch. I'm fine." The blood-red buck replied, downplaying his injury. "What about Terryman? Is he…?"

The chess set wrestler gave his first genuine smile in nearly three days. "He lives."

It was as if a huge weight had been lifted off their shoulders. The three Muscle Leaguers, relieved at the outcome, breathed deeply, their faces shining with smiles. "We should seek care for the gazelle," said the chessmaster, turning to exit. "I am certain Sir Kenyan will be able to provide the proper medical care. Let us go to the house."

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"Well, dang… Looks t' me as if this is a right nice fix y'all are in. Yup, a right nice fix, indeed…"

"Yeah… I just wish I knew why they're doin' all this. We got no clues to that or to what their next move might be…"

"Well, no use frettin' over it if there ain't a thing that can be done. Let's get some breakfast an' then we'll start cleanin' up."

A now wide-awake Terryman stood out of bed and greeted the day with a yawn and a stretch. "Hey, Natsuko," the old bronco addressed his wife. "How's about rustlin' up some chow fer these younguns?"

"Hold yer horses. I'll get to that, but first thing's first: I gots t' vacuum up all this broken glass. And don't y'all go walkin' 'round here without shoes on, Terry. Last thing y' need is glass in yer foot."

"Well, alright. Kid, why don't you help yer Ma an' I'll feed the troops?"

A smile and a nod. "Okay, daddy. No problemo."

And so, Kid set about assisting his mother in clean-up detail while Terryman descended to the first level of the house to provide them all sustenance. As he came down the stairs, he spied Checkmate and the rest entering the house. "Howdy, y'all," the old wrestling horse greeted them.

"Terryman!" Meat came running up to him.

"Well, burn mah britches, if it ain't ol' Alexandria Meat, himself..!" Terryman knelt down to give the little man a hug.

"Say, Terry, you think you could help out Gazelle Man there? He's been injured."

The old man looked up at the crimson stag, still keeping pressure on his shoulder, and walked over to him. "Lift up yer hand fer a second, son. …Mm-hmm…… Yeah, we can fix that right up." He led Gazelle to the stairs. "Second door on the left is the bathroom. There's a first-aid kit behind the mirror. Get that and go take care of yourself, y' hear?"

Gazelle Man bowed his head in gratitude and proceeded upward. "So…" The aged man turned to the others. "Anyone fer some breakfast?"

"Breakfast?! Like, yeah!! Just point the way!" Terryman pointed to the doorway to his right, and Mantaro skipped merrily into the kitchen to have himself a seat. The old bronco had to laugh. "The apple sure don't fall far from the tree, do it?"

Seiuchin chuckled along with him. "That's our Mantaro. He won't change."

"Right thou art," Checkmate joined in.

"Heeeeeeeey!!" The muscle prince called from the kitchen, creating a din that sounded of silverware being banged against the table. "Mister Terryman, where's the fooooood?"

"Hold yer horses, I'm comin'! Y'all want somethin', too? Come on with me."

The old wrestling horse entered the cooking arena, Check and Seiuchin tailing him. "Finally!" Mantaro brayed, perched at the head of the table and clutching fork and knife as if his life depended on it. "Let's eat!"

Terryman leaned on the hardwood table. "What's yer pleasure?"

"Cow and rice is nice," he grinned eagerly.

"Hmmm….. How's about some steak an' eggs?"

The muscle prince lowered his shoulders in disappointment. "Oh, okay… but only if you put it all in a bowl."

"It's a done deal, partner." They shook hands to seal the meal pact. "Hey," Terryman called over to the other two. "Steak an' eggs all right with you fellers?"

"Um…" The walrus raised his hand. "Do you have any fish?"

Terryman blinked, then rummaged through the freezer in search of the pinniped's request. "Um… We got fish sticks…"

"That'll do..!" The walrus took a seat to the right of Mantaro. "Whatever thou makest, noble Terryman, is fine with me." Checkmate joined the others at the table.

"Well, that's a relief. I don't suppose y'all can speak for yer antelope friend on this?"

"Oh, Gazelle doesn't eat meat," Mantaro briefed him. "You might wanna set him up with some oatmeal or something. He eats a lot of that."

"Shucks, I wasn't countin' on all these special requests… I tell you boys what: Why don't y'all gimme a hand with the cooking? I still gots Terry an' the missus t' cook fer, not t' mention myself. That okay?"

Checkmate and Seiuchin didn't seem to have a problem with that. The pinniped set about preparing his breakfast of processed fish batons while his chess set companion fielded the task of making hot cereal for his vegetarian friend. The muscle prince pouted for a bit, then sought some bread for toast.

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A sizzle and a pop and breakfast was good and ready. Kevin Mask had just entered from the morning heat, the smells of a good meal filling his helmet. He followed his nose to the kitchen where the area was alive with the hustle, bustle, and muscle of meal time camaraderie. A one chef Terryman sized up the portions of beef slab and scrambled eggs equally for all who would have some, and the gracious lady of the house served up plates, knowing for the first time the feeling of a house full of smiles and laughter.

"Here you go, sugar." Mrs. Natsuko served Gazelle Man his bowl of boiled oats.

"Thank you, ma'am. It smells delicious."

"Junior done tol' me how you pr'tected our horses. A shame they got ol' Beauty, but thankee fer lookin' after the others." She gave him a peck on the cheek and the buck turned a deeper shade of red. The other wrestlers just chuckled, throwing out comments on Gazelle having a thing for older women and how well they suited him.

"Breakfast? I'll have egg on toast, please." Kevin took a seat beside Checkmate.

Terry scoffed. "Only those who earned a meal get one…"

"Now, Kid. Don't be inhospitable-like… Y'all know we can't eat in front o' others without offerin' them some. Now, youngun…" Terryman walked over to Kevin, hovering a plate of his food of choice over his head. "In return for this here meal, yer gonna hafta help me with an outdoor task 'r two. That sound fair?"

Kevin shrugged. "Whatever…."

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"So, how did it go?"

"…We failed to exterminate Terryman, sir. The Muscle League managed to arrive before us."

"Hmm……" Matador rose from his throne, stroking his chin and pacing back and forth. "Actually, that may be for the best for right now. With the threat that something may be lurking out there over their heads, they'll be unnerved for the rest of the day. Besides, we can kill Terryman anytime."

"Sir," Hoffman began. "When shall we give Rhodes the OK to return?"

"When it's time, I'll send for him myself. What time was it when you all were there?"

"The sun was still low, sir. I'd say barely beyond sunrise."

"Alright, then," Matador rose from his seat. "We'll initiate the rest of the plan in 17 hours. Notify all available teams to coordinate then."

"Of course, sir."

"Heh heh heh… It'll be lovely." He stroked his chin, a devious smile spreading across his face. "We're going to have party. A glorious party in space…

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The threat of Bloody Arms eased for the most part, house work began, as per agreement betwixt the wrestlers and the House of Terryman. Gazelle, being a man of cleanliness, offered assistance to the missus in kitchen detail, earning him more taunts from the other young men. The Terry men, meanwhile, set to the desert to dig their deceased a grave, Kevin Mask in tow. The two young ones dug to Terryman's melancholy strumming, his beautifully crafted guitar with newly changed strings vibrating to a tune in C, the Kid throwing in an occasional yodel.

"O bury me not on the lone prairie… (Yo-del-ay-ee-oo…)

Where the wild coyotes will howl on me… (Yo-del-ay-ee-oo…)"

Kevin Mask shook his head and continued to stick his shovel in the dirt, thinking this sort of thing was a bit too American for his tastes. They put the horse to rest in the hole with 4-foot depth, all three of them working to place the carcass in its grave. Covering the burial place over with the red dirt dug from it, they took the short walk back to the ranch, spying the missus playing foreman to Mantaro and Seiuchin's window pane installment.

"Ease up, now… Y'almost got it…Easy does it…"

"All done!"

"It's in!"

"Woo! Great job, partners!" She applauded them.

Terryman came up and tipped his hat to her. "Back already and done, too? Didn't take ya long…"

"Not atall, thanks to those fellers up thar." She looked back up to then, waving and giving them a grateful smile. The boys just waved back, returning the favor with toothy grins and rosy cheeks.

"Che. It sure is somethin' t' be young, ain't it?" He plunked his digits on the guitar's fingerboard. "Anyway, the horses need tendin' to. I'll get to it."

"Don't worry 'bout that none. I gots Meat, Zelly, and that Checkmate feller takin' care o' that."

"Zelly..? Oh, that Gazelle boy…" Terryman chuckled. "It sure is somethin' t' be a woman, ain't it?"

Natsuko just laughed. "Kid, if y'all don't mind, help th' others out with cleanin' the stables, would ya?"

"Sure thing, Ma." He bent over to give her a son's kiss on the cheek and headed to the horses' hold.

Terryman turned to Kevin. "And what about you?"

"I've done my work. I repaid you for that meal."

Terryman's face faulted. "Actually," he wrapped his arm around Kevin's shoulder. "I need y'all to come with me fer a minute."

The Mask man sighed as the bronco led him around back, a wonderful, rustic porch with swinging bench upon them. "Sit a spell." The old man plopped on the bench, patting the space beside him before strumming a broken chord. Kevin sat next to him, giving a familiar sigh.

"I knew you were Robin Mask's little boy right off the bat," Terryman began, playing a lazy country tune. "What's yer name?"

"That's none of your business," he replied coolly.

"Well, alright, but you know I can ask any one of the others and get the same info."

Kevin scoffed. "So ask them."

The old bronco paused his playing, mildly shocked at his rudeness. "Hoo, yer a regular pistol," he yipped, changing keys and starting again. "But I guess youth and aggressiveness go hand in hand. Kid's a little like that, too. Getting' better, though…"

"What do you want..?" The Englishman inquired, becoming a little annoyed. "I thought you needed help…"

"I reckon you're the one that needs help," Terry responded matter-of-factly. "Y'all can't go on through life with a chip on yer shoulder."

"What do you mean?"

"Kid used to be a lot like you. Had more heat on 'im than stank on a polecat. That boy… I really didn't know what was goin' on in his head--Oh. Pardon me a sec." The old man timed out to tighten a string. He strummed all six, an in-tune harmony. "Perfect…" He smiled. "Anyhow, you should try to get along with them best as possible fer now. The way things are now, yer pappy may well be a target, too. How's he doin', by the way?"

"You're asking the wrong person. I haven't seen him in 3 years."

"That's too bad. He's the only daddy you've got, y'know. It's better to have things go smooth as possible with family, so ya don't have no regrets."

"Regrets?!" Kevin shot up. "A childhood filled with nothing but training and studying day in, day out..?! The only things I regret are having to have gone through that all my life and not leaving sooner! That Robin Mask, he was responsible for my misery." He narrowed his yellow eyes. "…I hate him……"

"Hm. So that's it," breathed the bronco, wearing an expression that seemed to say 'I thought so'. "Y'all don't care if he's killed, then?"

"Give me some credit, Yank…"

"Sorry, partner. I guess you comin' along with all the others proves that otherwise."

The conversation drifted, the awkwardness reflected in Terryman's playing, his chords falling out of rhythm with the rest of the song. "Robin…" He continued again. "If there was one thing he hated, it was anyone who hated him. But… I don't think he'd hate you, his only son. Frankly, I don't see how any father could. I reckon y'oughta get what the shrinks call 'closure' on this li'l issue o' yours while ya got the chance."

Terryman pulled the Stetson over his eyes and let himself be engulfed in the sounds of his six-stringed instrument. "Oh, give me a home where the buffalo roam and the deer and the antelope play…"

The Englishman figured that was his cue to exit. He looked to the wide horizon splitting the blue sky, the sun casting its morning light on the red soil, feeling strangely nostalgic. "Kevin."

Terryman looked up. "What..?"

"My name is Kevin."

The old man smiled. "It suites you… Where seldom is heard a discouraging word and the skies are not cloudy all day…"

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"Night is a cool one in the desert, it's perfect. No city lights to ruin this." He trimmed the fuses just so. "We're going to have a blast tonight."

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Day to afternoon, afternoon to evening, evening to night. The sounds of laughter and gaiety fell muffled on Kevin Mask's ears, he sitting on the front porch brooding while the rest were inside doing their thing. He couldn't deny that Terryman's words held a bit of knowledge, but still, it wouldn't change his feelings, not a bit. Of course he knew Robin was his one and only father. That's why he'd be the one to take his life. Not in could murder like the Bloody Arms boys, but honorably in the ring, a death match. He swore revenge on his patriarch for raping him of his childhood and wouldn't except anyone else getting to him before he did.

Kevin wondered, momentarily, of how his mother fared. He could still remember her voice calling after him as he rushed out the door and ran away from that life. As far as he was concerned, she was as much to blame for his frustration that time ago as Robin was. Even so, he didn't fate her, and if given the chance to see her again, nothing would stop him.

BOOM--!

An explosion? Kevin looked upward to find bursts of colorful, burning lights in the sky, then another and another… The others had detected the noise, as well, Gazelle Man being the first to emerge. "Ah, I thought I heard fireworks," he said with twitching ears.

"Is this for some kind of American celebration?" Asked Seiuchin to either Terry.

"I doubt it," the Kid replied. "There ain't no sort o' holidays comin' up that use fireworks… At any rate, let's enjoy the show."

And so, the night sky filled with the booms and crackles and colored lights burning bright, an impressive display. The show changed its content just a bit, going from circular explosions to word bursts. "Hey," Mantaro pointed skyward. "Check out that one. Kinda looks likes it's sayin' something…Let's see… 'Come… to… HF…'"

HF? Ah, Hercules Factory. "There's another. …'Mega Party'…"

That got them excited. The next one came and the muscle prince continued reading. "Courtesy of…"

The finisher: The last one rocketed high in the air, a tiny sparkly shooting straight up then fading into the darkness. Then, in the loudest explosion, one so harsh that their blood-red buck winced in pain, the last words burned the sky…

B*A

Their blood ran cold. Checkmate rushed to the front to do his duty, opening up the spiraling black space. "Who will lead?" He shouted. "Quickly!"

"I'll go." Terry the Kid scooted the others aside. He felt a warmth on his shoulder, slightly familiar. He turned around to see Mantaro holding him back.

"Terry," he began, looking at the Kid with eyes that understood the situation, a grave expression. "You should stay with your dad just in case they try again. If their setting off fireworks, then at least one is in the area." Mantaro cast his sights downward. "And Meat, you should stay, too. I don't think this will be a pretty one… Is that all right, Mister Terryman?"

"Don't fret none. Go an' do what needs t' be done."

Kid clenched his fists in frustration. "I don't like the idea o' stayin' behind, but I don't wanna leave my daddy 'lone, neither… Y'all go on ahead and come back safe, y'hear?"

The wrestling royalty nodded. "I promise. Alright, Checkmate. I'll lead…" He approached the chess set wrestler, who placed a hand on his shoulder.

"There are so many Legends at the school: Curry Cook, Ramen Man , Buffaloman…" Seiuchin broke out in a cold sweat. "What horrible people these wrestlers are…"

"How dare they bring noise to our alma mater…" Gazelle Man socked a fist into his open palm. "They'll have hell to pay!"

The others nodded in agreement. Kevin Mask just stood behind them, keeping silent his fear, his anxiety, his rage. "…It becomes my problem, after all..!" Kevin slapped a heavy hand on Gazelle's shoulder. "Mantaro!" He barked. "Get us there in one piece!"

The muscle price looked back at his and gave a confident nod. "Kid, Meat, wish us luck! And Mister Terryman, thank you for all the nice meals today!"

They hopped in that black space, the party of Chôjin wrestlers. It swallowed them up and disappeared, putting the sky back together. The Terrys and Meat could only look on into the night space where the portal appeared just moments ago. The old Terry pulled his hat down once again.

So, Kevin Mask, what will you do now?