Songs: "Warlord" by Mick Gordon and "Spinal's Komplete Dynamic Theme"
Chapter Four: Spinal
"A 'scream' is always just that - a noise and not music."
- Carl Jung
Once security personnel had arrived to guard the body, Dieter and Lawrence went into the building through the back entrance.
Dieter scanned the changing room.
"Mister Carnegie!" He called.
"Mister Carnegie!" Lawrence repeated.
Illuminated by several white overhead fluorescent lights were several columns and rows of lockers and benches. Despite the clean white tiled floors, the wooden benches, the white sterile walls, and the distinctive smell of aerosol fresheners, the place still smelled like BO. Moving along the mid section of various rows of lockers and benches, the duo continued their search until they noticed two peculiar and puzzling deformities to this largely unmarked room - a five foot wide hole that was six or so feet deep with debris littered across the tiles and an overhead lamp that swung noisily and flickered repeatedly.
"What the fuck happened here?" Dieter puzzled as he kneeled down to examine the hole.
"An exploded gas pipe, perhaps?" Lawrence suggested.
Dieter gave him a doubtful look. "Really? Without taking down the rest of the building and without us noticing?" the bodyguard said as he went back to examining the curiosity. "No, Larry. Besides, there's no scorch marks here, nor do I smell gas."
Still, it did look like something erupted out and damaged one of the overhead lights.
Dieter picked up his radio.
Konrad heard the radio beep. "Ja?" he said into the speaker.
"Dieter here. Lawrence and I are at one of the changing rooms. There's something weird over here."
The aristocrat was about to ask him to clarify when he saw a silhouette of someone standing at fighters' alley opposite of Eagle's.
"About bloody time!" Konrad said aloud, then changed channels. "Control room, do you read?"
"Yes Baron."
"Carnegie's arrived. Start the intro."
"Baron? Baron, are you there?"
Dieter was about to repeat when he heard the announcer.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, Max Carnegie has entered the building!"
The bodyguard sighed. "Well, looks like the show will go on," he said irritably. "And we missed our opportunity to meet the champ."
"We'll get another chance after the show, Dieter," Lawrence said as he clapped him on the shoulder. "Besides, we should check around and make sure there aren't any other holes."
Dieter nodded. "Good idea."
The duo wandered along the rows of lockers, checking the walls, floors and ceilings when Lawrence slipped.
"Fuck!" He yelled as he hit the floor hard.
"Lawrence!" Dieter cried as he bent down. "Are you okay?"
His associate groaned. "Yeah, I'm fine," he said as Dieter pulled him up to his feet.
"Aw fuck," the latter swore. "I need you to sit back down, Larry."
"What? Why?"
"You're bleeding."
Lawrence gave him a startled look. "What?" he said as he glanced down at himself, then paused as he spotted red on his pant leg. He shook his head. "That's not me, Dieter."
The two men glanced around, then stopped upon seeing the red marks that stained the white floor.
Following the trail, the duo headed toward the showers until they both stopped cold in their tracks.
"HOLY CHRIST!"
When the announcer called out Carnegie's name, the figure walked toward the arena, the speakers blazing away with some death metal soundtrack with some unintelligible singer.
Konrad watched as Carnegie faltered and stumbled.
"Ah nein," he growled.
"What's wrong with him?" Michael asked.
"It looks like the fucker is inebriated," Konrad said as he continued to watch the figure.
Crashing clumsily against the wall, Carnegie leaned against it for a moment, then pushed himself back up.
Exhaling, Konrad raised up the radio, changing the channels. "Felix, you there?"
"We're here, Baron," came the reply.
"Shut down the broadcast," he ordered. "Mister Carnegie's drunk."
"Are you sure, Baron?" Felix asked. "To me it looks like he might be hurt."
Konrad continued watching Carnegie as he lurched toward the arena, his entire person shrouded in shadow, looking around, then halted. For a moment, it almost seemed as if the fighter was staring directly at him, which was impossible due to the one-way mirror.
"Stand by in case we're in need of medical assistance," he called into the radio.
"Jawohl."
The figure stood there for a long time, staring in his direction. The more Konrad stared back, the more unsettled he became.
Something was off.
As Carnegie lurched out from the shadows, Konrad did a double take as the man stopped just outside the alley entrance.
"Jesus," Roger breathed.
Bare-chested with an armband on his right arm and military fatigue-styled pants with huge combat boots, Carnegie was a hulking brute of a man with the body of a thickly muscled bear that stood at six-eight. Bald with a broken nose, his face reminded Konrad of a tiger's. On his chest was a Celtic-styled cross tattoo with intricate lines, a recurring motif that ringed around both the man's eyes and was displayed prominently on his back. As far as fighters were concerned, Carnegie may not have been the brightest of individuals, but as far as appearances were concerned, he was one of the most intimidating looking with a ferocity to match.
But the Carnegie that Konrad saw now was different. He still looked like the same fellow, but his skin was sickly pale and yellow. Even more, he had a strange glassy stare, a stare that was completely at odds with the fiery personality Carnegie was known to have.
"What the hell happened to him?" Roger asked. "Do you think he is sick?"
Before Konrad could answer, his cellphone went off. Checking the call display, he blinked as he saw Dieter's name.
"Ja?" he answered.
"Baron, it's Dieter," Konrad was put off by the alarm in his voice. In the background, he heard someone retching violently.
"What's wrong?" Konrad asked.
"It's Carnegie! Lawrence and I found his manager dead in the shower."
"WHAT?!" He yelled into the phone, causing Roger and Michael to look up startled.
"He killed him, Baron! I think the guy's on something, there's blood everywhere and the body's been completely mutilated! You need to shut down the program NOW!"
Konrad hung up the phone, his heart throbbing loudly in his head.
"Herr Baron?" Michael said quietly.
The aristocrat raised up the radio, changing channels.
"Felix, are you there?" he said.
"Yes Baron," Felix answered.
"Shut down the program."
"What?"
"Shut down the program and get security down there immediately, Carnegie's on something. Also call the goddamn police."
"The police? Why-"
"JUST DO IT!"
As he released the call button, Konrad continued watching the scene before him.
Carnegie was staring around him, turning his head slowly in one direction, then the other. Looking straight ahead to Eagle, Konrad watched as the Irish fighter pulled his lips back into a hideous grin that made him flinch in disgust. It was at that moment that the death metal-styled tune was abruptly cut off completely; in its place was a bagpipe that played two long notes repeatedly. By the ninth note, Carnegie started to slowly walk towards Eagle, saying something, but it was impossible to tell what was being said. Konrad's ear twitched.
"Listen," he said in a hushed tone.
Roger and Michael gave him a curious look.
"What are you-"
"Shh!" He interrupted, tilting his head in concentration. Both bodyguards unconsciously followed suite.
It was barely even audible, but they heard it just the same.
Whispering. Or rather, quiet chanting that repeated the second verse repeatedly, then repeated the previous verse again at slightly louder volumes, building more and more each time. Konrad heard a strange wailing noise in the background. At first, he thought that it was wind, but as the chanting continued building up, the more dread weighed down upon Konrad. He felt physically ill the more he listened. He was certain that they were screams. Screams of fear, screams of agony, screams of rage, screams of insanity, screams of laughter. Nonstop crying. Men, women, children. Voices of the damned. It was as if someone had decided to place a microphone by the gates of Hell and record the awful racket that went on down below. Konrad raised the radio.
"Felix, what the hell is going on?" he demanded. "Who's doing that? Why is the broadcast still on?"
"I-I don't know, Baron!" Felix answered bewilderedly.
"What do you mean you don't know?!"
"The equipment isn't responding! I don't know what's happening!" Felix exclaimed.
"Then unplug the damn things!"
"We just did! It's running on its own!"
"BULLSHIT!" Konrad said angrily. "Quit fucking around now or I swear to God that I'll find someone better to replace you."
"And I swear to God, Baron, this is beyond us! We've nothing to do with this!"
"Have you contacted the police yet?" he asked.
"We can't, the lines are dead!"
"Do you think someone could have hacked the network?" Michael asked quietly.
Konrad shook his head.
"Impossible," he answered. "Felix, I want you to listen close-"
He was cut off as the chanting quadrupled in its intensity, startling everyone, causing several including members of the audience and Michael to cry out in alarm and the Baron to jump in his wheelchair, nearly dropping the walkie-talkie. Recovering quickly from the shock, Konrad raised it up again to his face.
"Felix," he said, but stopped. "Felix?"
The chanting was playing from the radio speaker. Shutting it off, Konrad took out his cellphone from his pant pocket and turned it on, only to be met with more of the chanting.
The screaming or wailing, whatever it was, was gone, but the chanting continued, louder than ever, this time accompanied by the beating of a drum. Konrad was able to hear the lyrics clearly this time along with the chorus of voices that chanted it, deep, dreadful-sounding things that didn't even sound remotely human.
"Kung och furste.
Krigare,
Kejsare,
Härskar.
Kropp av ben,
Inget hjärta,
Döpt i blod.
Själlös, livlös.
Kropp av ben,
Inget hjärta,
Döpt i blod.
Själlös, livlös."
It came from every direction at once, even from directly behind the three men in their private booth.
Stiffening, neither Konrad nor his bodyguards looked to see who or what was chanting in the suite behind them - they kept their eyes squarely on the arena, staring straight ahead to avoid seeing the owners of those horrible voices.
Roger's hand was shakily reaching for his sidearm.
Looking over to the commentators, Konrad saw both men white as ghosts, tense and perplexed by the bizarre music. The audiences were still, almost entranced by the tune. Staring at the massive cluster, Konrad thought that he caught glimpses of something amongst them, but it was just shadows.
At least, he hoped they were.
Glancing back to Carnegie, the more Konrad watched the Irish fighter speak, the more certain he became that the lyrics matched his mouth movements.
Carnegie started walking toward Eagle, who backed away cautiously with each step the Irish fighter made. Security personnel stormed into the arena from the fighters' alley behind Carnegie and called out to him, causing him to pause and hang his head forward, the chanting stopping the moment he had. Something dropped beside his left foot.
"What's that?" Michael asked.
At first, Konrad thought that it was some sort of misshapen snail, a scrunched-up bun or a slice of crumpled up pizza that was thrown at the stage by some disgruntled audience member, but as he glanced back to Carnegie, Konrad realized his mistake. It was an ear. Raising his head back up, Carnegie resumed walking towards Eagle, chanting, his lips pulling back into that disgusting, rictus-like smile as he did so. The chanting renewed throughout the arena.
"Kung och furste,
Krigare,
Kejsare,
Härskare.
Kropp av ben,
Inget hjärta,
Döpt i blod,
Själlös, livlös."
As he came closer, a new verse was chanted.
"Ond Demon,
Folkets hjälte,
Hemlös Gud."
At that moment, the bagpipe ceased. A drum boomed and a kangling sounded. Carnegie stopped and made a horrible noise, a long, loud inhalation or gasp that both signaled his last breath, and the beginning of something indescribable. Konrad watched as the horror unfolded before him.
"MEIN GOTT!" He cried.
The disembodied chants repeated one word over and over throughout, accompanied by a percussive instrument, possibly a xylophone.
"Flå! flå! flå!"
Maggots were starting to crawl out from the man's skin and smiling mouth while pieces of his flesh were falling to the floor.
Rolling his eyes into the back of his head, Carnegie violently convulsed as he took a shaky step forward, his eyeballs dropping out from their sockets onto the piles of offal that gathered by his feet as he gagged and coughed up nonstop streams of worms, struggling to breathe.
People were screaming.
The security personnel turned away, vomiting, prompting other people to join in. Poor Roger was among those as he retched onto the personal booth's carpets, burning Konrad's nostrils and stinking up the air with bile. It took enormous willpower not to join in. Pieces turned into handfuls. Handfuls turned into chunks. The next thing Konrad knew, Carnegie burst into green flame, causing people to scream even louder as the pile beneath ignited with him.
Scrambling for his radio, Konrad flicked through the channels frantically.
"FELIX?! ARE YOU THERE? SOMEONE?! ANYONE?! PLEASE! SOMEONE PLEASE ANSWER!" He yelled.
As he watched Carnegie's body consumed by the blazing green inferno, Konrad saw a massive face peer out from it. A woman shrieked.
Four feet long and two feet wide, the face was brown in color. Resembling either an elephant or mammoth skull, it had yellow beady blinking eyes and no mouth - at least, as far as Konrad could tell. Where the mouth and lips should be was a medusan-like beard, a series of two-foot-long octopus tentacles that waved about in the air. Parts of the head were marked by what looked like runes, although of what origin Konrad was uncertain, while draped around its face were some ropes.
Puzzled by this aspect, Konrad wondered why it had those when the flame died down, revealing the true nature of the thing; attached to some piece of driftwood, it was actually a sort of grotesque living shield that hung from the left arm of its owner, a being that was just as hideous, loathsome and abnormal, even more so, for its mere existence was madness.
Standing in Carnegie's place, held together by no apparent form of sinew or muscle, was a human skeleton with a red bandanna wrapped around its forehead.
A diminutive figure that stood at five-six, it was dressed in a Scottish tartan with a belt around its waist, while a pair of buccaneer boots that looked like they were from the late 1700s adorned its feet. Wrapped around its torso were a series of ropes while what looked like old, rotted parts of a ship's mast and steering wheel were stabbed into its right shoulder, with one part swinging around loosely behind each time it moved. Its right arm gauntleted, it held in its free bony hand a large cutlass.
Staring out at the stunned audience with red, glowing, lidless balls of light from its sockets, shifting its mandible around, grating its teeth back and forth, the impossible entity regarded its surroundings.
Then, to Konrad's amazement and horror, it tossed its head back and let out a loud, shrill, defiant maniacal laugh, despite not having any sort of musculature, vocals or lungs.
It was an awful, insanity-inducing sound that pierced the eardrums and buried itself into peoples' consciousness.
"Yaahahahahahaha!"
"What the hell is that?!" Roger exclaimed.
Konrad raised the radio again and pressed the call button.
'Please let it work,' he prayed, then cheered as he got a response.
"Richter, are you there?" he said into the radio.
"Jawohl," Richter answered.
Success! The chanting was still there, but at least there's a signal.
"Listen to me carefully," Konrad said. "I want you to use non-lethals only."
"What?!"
"Look around, Richter! There's seven thousand people here. We cannot risk that thing getting to them or Eagle, nor can we risk firing a shot without hitting and/or killing them. Before you do so, I want you to try communicating with it."
"Are you insane?! It's a goddamn zombie!" Hermann exclaimed on the radio.
"If you don't antagonize it in any way, it will not have any reason to lash out," Konrad reasoned. "Just try to get its attention. Smile and try to be friendly. Show that we mean it no harm. If it attacks, taser it."
Konrad heard the man mutter something unintelligible on the radio, then watched as the skeleton took a step toward Eagle, stopping as the security team called to it from behind. Turning around, it tilted its head curiously as one of the men spoke, raising his arms and hands up in a placating motion, smiling, his colleagues nervously following his example. The skeleton stared at them, then glanced back to Eagle, shifting its jaw back and forth, deep in apparent thought. As it lowered the sword, Konrad slowly nodded to himself in assurance.
"Maybe it could be reasoned with after all!" Konrad said to his bodyguards.
The skeleton then turned toward the security team, raised up its cutlass threateningly, then stomped toward them in halting steps.
"Wh-REALLY?!" Konrad yelled at the figure through the one way mirror in disbelief. "You only have a one-tract mind?! The only reason why you stopped was because you didn't know who to kill first?!"
"It can't hear you, Baron," Michael reminded. "At least, I think it can't."
The stupid bastard kept stomping toward the security team, then started to run, laughing menacingly and maniacally, waving its cutlass in the air dangerously as it did so.
Once it was well within range, the security personnel fired off their X-26 tasers, the electrodes planting themselves onto parts of its bony body. It shrieked as thousands of volts of electricity coursed into it, then collapsed to the floor in a clutter.
"They got it!" Roger yelled.
Konrad watched as the security personnel scrambled quickly to the fallen creature, one of them raising up his boot and slamming it down onto the thing's skull, crushing it underfoot several times. When he finished, he pulled away and pressed into his radio.
"Hostile down," Hermann said. "No more Mister Zombie."
Konrad sighed in relief. Changing channels, he raised up the radio.
"Felix, are you there?" he asked.
No answer.
"Felix, are you there?"
Still no response.
"Control room, do you read?"
Nothing.
Konrad watched as Hermann went over to the shield, which was still flailing its tentacles about, blinking its eyes.
"Felix? Do you read?"
From the other end, a guttural voice spoke, raising hairs on the back of his neck, "You fool, Felix is dead!"
Konrad stared at the radio, taken aback.
"Who is this?!" he demanded. "WHO ARE YOU?!"
He watched as Hermann raised up his foot and slammed it down on the living shield's head.
The moment his foot made impact, an impossibly huge bony arm made from some sort of green energy erupted from the ground, eliciting shrieks of startled surprise as it scattered debris and held the guard up fifteen feet in the air.
The guard screamed and struggled in its grip while the others tried grabbing hold of his legs.
The next thing Konrad knew, there came a bright green flash and the guard exploded, raining down blood and gore onto the others as they shielded their eyes from the unexpected downpour. Audiences screamed and, to Konrad's incredulity, cheered.
"Why the hell are they cheering?!" Konrad asked in confusion. "Can't they see people are getting killed?!"
"I think they think this is part of the show," Michael said.
Konrad watched as the skeleton's frame reconfigured itself in the air, skull and all. From there, it became an all-out slaughter as security guards were eviscerated and decapitated left and right on live television, the ghostly chorus singing obscenely in delight and in accompaniment as if it was some sort of horrible performance.
Even worse, the audience seemed to be loving every moment of it, especially when reinforcements arrived in the form of the Theseus combat androids.
"Skogen den pratar, boskap på flykt,
Fienden bränner våra marker,
Rasslar med svärd och slår på sköldar,
Redo att dräpa oss nu.
Vi ber till dig Spinal, lämna din kropp,
Bli våran hövding, ta till vapen,
Skänk oss din styrka vid denna strid,
Vakna vakna, mäktiga Gud."
One guard fired his taser only to have the projectiles blocked by the shield as the skeleton stood in a defensive position. As thousands of volts entered the shield, Konrad watched as three green floating spectral skulls appeared behind the demonic figure.
"What is-"
He stopped as the living shield parted its tentacles, blasting into the guard with these ghostly projectiles that exploded against him, chattering and laughing as they curled up in the air before dissipating into nothingness. The guard lay lifeless on the ground, his body a smoking pulped ruin.
"Mörkret det faller över vårt land,
Vindarna viner, marken skakar,
Fienden samlas runt vårt rike,
Redo att kuva oss nu."
Krigare samlas vid helig grav,
Kallar på Spinal, krigarguden,
Hjälp vi behöver vid denna strid,
Fräls oss, fräls oss mäktiga Gud."
Scattered around the entity, the panicking security guards and the Theseus units started firing live rounds at their target.
"CEASE FIRE!" Konrad roared into the radio. "DU VERDAMMTER MORONEN! CAN'T YOU HEAR ME?! I SAID CEASE FIRE!"
Bullets pierced the creature's body, but no matter the direction, part or angle, it just ignored them, continuing relentlessly on in its quest for blood.
Its sword glowing with green flame, with a single violent swing, the skeleton cut down several of the Theseus units all at once, leaving them as twisted smoking scrap and wire that clattered to the floor.
As one Theseus unit fired point blank into the creature's ribcage, cutting down one unfortunate guard behind it, another stabbed the skeleton in the back with a retractable wrist blade.
Elbowing the machine away, the skeleton brought its cutlass down onto the other's head, slicing clean through, causing sparks to fly. Planting its boot on the Theseus unit's chest, the entity pushed it back, wedging its weapon out.
The steering wheel on its back creaked and swung as the entity rolled its right shoulder in readiness.
As the remaining Theseus units fired upon its position, the skeleton suddenly sunk into a patch of glowing green light in the ground, reappearing instantaneously next to a guard as it killed him.
"How the hell is it doing that?!" Roger asked as it kept reappearing all over the arena.
"The ugly little bastard is full of unwanted surprises," Konrad growled as the entity summoned up a pair of spectral skeletal arms from the ground that somehow phased through each other while at the same time crushing a Theseus unit that was caught in between.
Konrad got out his cellphone and tried calling the police, but the only thing he heard was more of that damn chanting.
"Riket det skriker efter vår hjälp,
Spinal han vaknar, lämnar graven
Med kraftigt tjut han samlar trupper
Redo att slåss för oss nu."
Konrad looked to his bodyguards.
"Can either of you call the police?" he asked.
Both men turned on their cellphones.
"Vi äter upp svampar för kraft och rus,
Plockar fram yxor, brynjor, hjälmar,
Med Guden Spinals krafter och mod,
Seger, seger, segern är vår."
"GOD! FUCKING! DAMN IT!" Konrad roared as he violently flung his wine glass from the table next to him against the wall.
He helplessly looked back to the arena. The Theseus units had all fallen, scattered around like garbage. The guards were running for their lives, but the bloodthirsty little bastard continued hunting after them, gutting them like animals on the arena floor without mercy. It wouldn't be long before it turned its attention elsewhere.
"Roger, take my radio," Konrad ordered as he held it out to him. "Find Dieter and Lawrence and get down there. Get everyone out of here. Save as many -"
He stopped as he heard the door opened. Turning around in his chair, he saw the aforementioned men, putting the radio back down onto his lap. They were both pale and stained with blood.
"Dieter! Lawrence! Where have you been?!"
Dieter wiped sweat from his forehead.
"We were busy tending to the wounded down there. It's bad, Baron. We've tried to do the best we could, but we've run out of supplies and the bodies are piling up faster and faster," he said as he took out a cigarette. His hand was trembling furiously as he lit it. "Where's the police?!"
"We're cut off," Konrad answered. "Have you sent someone out to get help?"
"Several ran out the building, but we haven't heard from them, nor has anyone seen them since."
"What about Eagle?"
"SIR, LOOK!" Michael called.
Konrad turned around looked to where he pointed, his eyes widening in alarm.
"Oh mein gott," he uttered in a quiet voice.
To his amazement, Eagle was still down there.
His hands, clothes and face bloody, it looked like he was trying very damn hard to save as many guards as possible, dragging and carrying the injured away to one or both of the fighter alleys, helping those that had fallen up to their feet to flee the scene, even yelling at the audience to get help, call the police or to get out while they still could. At one point it looked like the Native American, a usually affable fellow, was cussing at the audience.
And who could blame him?
The stupid bastards just sat there, cheering and enjoying the show. The only reaction Eagle got was him getting into an argument with some moron about something. Meanwhile, the skeleton was off to the side. Its sword propped up against a wall, it stood there playing with some guard's decapitated head, shaking it about with one hand, causing the mouth to flap about obscenely.
"LA LA LA LA LA LA!" It sang off-key happily, trying to get the decapitated head's mouth to match its awful singing.
After several very hard and violent shakes, the jaw flew right off, causing people to scream.
One person fainted.
Shrugging, it grunted, then absentmindedly tossed the decapitated head over its shoulder, the body part landing onto the bloodied arena floor with a splat. Giving a heavy, sad and discontented sigh, the skeleton picked up its cutlass and reached up its tartan to scratch its bony crotch with its blade, much to the Baron's disbelief, looking around in boredom before doing a double take. It now had its beady red orbs fixed on Eagle.
Stomping towards him while he was still arguing with some mental midget, it rolled the cutlass eagerly in its hand. It charged toward him with an insane laugh. Eagle was now running furiously around the arena, dodging each of the thing's attacks.
"RUN! RUN! SCHNELL! SCHNELL!" Konrad shouted furiously.
Just right when Eagle headed to one of the fighter alleys, several massive green arms sprouted from the ground, blocking his way out, causing him to skid to a halt. Turning around, he bolted to the other exit, only to find it blocked off by another giant set of arms. He was caged in with no way out.
From the speakers, the chanting repeated only one word, which the audience themselves seemed to delight in saying with it.
"SPINAL!
SPINAL!
SPINAL!"
"Nein, nein, NEIN!" Konrad repeated worriedly as he ran his gloved hands against his hooded head. "We have to get him out of there!"
"How?!" Dieter asked.
The aristocrat cupped his hands on his face. If only there was some way to help him. If only there was some way he could get out-
Pausing, he tilted his head thoughtfully, then stood up from his seat, taking hold of the blanket from his lap.
"What are you doing?" Dieter said in confusion.
Wordlessly, Konrad folded up the blanket, then took off his gloves, unsheathing his furry clawed hands. Putting them both onto the seat of the wheelchair, he then slid the cloak, scarf and hood off from his shoulders and head, along with his sunglasses.
"Are you insane?!"
"Nein, Dieter," Konrad replied as he neatly folded them and laid them out on his wheelchair, "I'm thinking clearly, very clearly."
"Baron, you can't just go out like that!" Dieter protested.
"And why not? If those people in that arena are stupid enough to believe that what they're seeing isn't real, then chances are they're not going blink at the sight of me."
"People are going to notice a blue four-hundred-pound werewolf!" Dieter hissed. "Especially one that's exiting from the Baron's private booth! You can't just walk out into the hallway!"
"Dieter," Konrad tsked, "how stupid do you think I am? I'm not going into the hallway, that's crazy! I'll crash through the window."
"WHAT?!"
"For dramatic effect."
The bodyguard looked like he was ready to tear his own hair out. "Baron, this is fucking stupid and bloody crazy! People are going to know it's you!"
"Not if Michael poses as me," Konrad said as he pointed to the wheelchair. "What matters now is saving that boy before that thing guts him and the rest of the audience."
"And what if you get killed?! What if you die from the fall or get cut up to pieces by Skeletor down there?!" Dieter retorted.
The aristocrat paused for a moment and thought about it. It's true, there was no guarantee that he'd survive.
His shoulders sagged as he sighed.
"Well, then the joke will be on me once again."
Eagle stared down at his opponent, his form drawn into a defensive pose, his arms raised in readiness, his fists tightly wound like knots. Beads of sweat rolled down his brow as he met his strange opponent's unwavering gaze. All around, people were chanting one word, over and over again in conjunction with the chants.
"SPINAL! SPINAL! SPINAL!"
Turning away from Eagle's eyes, the skeleton glanced at the audiences, tilting its head curiously, moving its jaw. Rolling its shoulder, it took a menacing step in the audience's direction.
"STAY WHERE YOU ARE!" Eagle shouted, catching the creature's attention. "Your fight is with me! Just as the Coyote had struck you down ages ago, so too will I, Monster!"
The skeleton turned back toward him.
His heart beating loudly in his ears, Eagle carefully kept his eye on it, his opponent doing the same. Before either party were able to make a move, the one-way mirror overlooking the arena shattered, raining down glass as something big landed into the arena with them, causing the audiences to cry out in alarm and both fighters to pause. Raising itself up, the creature stood up, staring at the skeleton, growling menacingly. Once it reached its full height, it made several threatening slash gestures, reared itself back and gave a mighty roar, which elicited loud cheers from the audience.
"OHHH SHIT!"
"A WEREWOLF! IT'S A FUCKING WEREWOLF!"
"IT'S ON, NOW!"
Eagle stared at this newest creature.
"A hímiinhaama? Here?!" He said aloud, baffled by its presence.
The creature paused as he said that, looking straight at him, regarding him thoughtfully. Meanwhile, the audiences were going nuts.
"THAT LOOKS SO COOL!"
"THIS IS AWESOME!"
"IT LOOKS SO REALISTIC!"
"THIS IS GOING TO BE GOOD!"
Others weren't so enthused.
"It looks so fake!"
"What were Ultratech thinking?"
"It looks like a rat!"
"Why is it blue?"
"Boo! Werewolves aren't blue! Fuck this, I'm outta here!"
"I just lost all respect for Ultratech."
"Oh come on! They're not even trying anymore! I can see the zipper on the back of that thing!"
"WHY ARE YOU JUST STANDING THERE?! DO SOMETHING COOL, DAMN IT! I PAID GOOD MONEY, YOU MORON!"
Hearing those negative comments, the beast looked in the direction where they had been said, bared its teeth and let out a fearsome roar, eliciting several whoops before turning back to the skeleton.
"GET OUT OF THERE!" A voice called from above.
Looking up to the broken one-way mirror, Eagle saw several men call to him. One of them was in a wheelchair with a cloak and hood.
"GET OUT OF THERE, NOW! RUN!"
At that moment, the hímiinhaama charged toward the skeleton, giving Eagle the chance to flee to the fighter alley.
Putting his hands around the massive green arms, he gave a yell, sharply whisking his hands away from the shock he received. Blowing on his hands, he looked to the dueling creatures.
It seems like there's only one way to get out, and he knew what he must do.
Charging towards the skeleton, Konrad lashed out with a swipe from his clawed hand, only to have to the attack deflected by that shield.
Dodging away in a cartwheel from an oncoming swipe, he slid down to the floor and spun on his back like a top, twisting himself around expertly until his feet connected with the skeleton's booted feet, causing it to trip.
Launching himself back up to his feet, he lunged at the downed opponent, only to miss as it sank down into the ground in a green flash of light.
He yelped as he felt a hot searing pain across his shoulder blades, causing him to stagger forward.
Turning around, he dodged the overhead to the side, twisting, turning, blocking and parrying each of its attacks. Planting a lucky right hook across its jaw, Konrad gave a feral grin and felt a certain degree of satisfaction as he watched the ugly little shit fall down onto its bony ass.
Lifting up its head, his opponent narrowed its beady orbs at him, then gave a frustrated, angry roar as it rose and charged him. Leaping high into the air toward him with its cutlass raised over its head, it plunged down. Konrad waited, timing the fall until he back flipped, his feet catching the skeleton in the air, causing it to come crashing down.
"OH THAT'S BULLSHIT!" He heard someone from the audience yelled out angrily. "WEREWOLVES DON'T DO BACKFLIPS!"
'Well this one does! Fuck off, geek!' Konrad thought.
Feeling a hot pain across his back again, Konrad stumbled, whimpering before quickly twisting around into a spin, his clawed hands swiping the skeleton across its face and following up with a backhand, then finishing off with another backflip kick.
Once it fell the ground, Konrad wasted no time in pinning it to the ground, slamming his fists down upon it over and over again until it sank into the green light, taking Konrad with it. The sensation the aristocrat felt as he traveled into it was unlike anything he had ever experienced; even though it was a scant few seconds, if not less, it felt far longer, a violent process that seemed to span across all of eternity, involving simultaneous tearing and reconstitution of his self. Once he crashed back onto the arena floor, Konrad pushed himself onto his hands and knees, feeling himself.
What the hell was that?
Hearing the demonic laughter ahead of him, he glanced up to see the creature charging toward him with sword up in the air.
Twisting his body to perform a sweep, Konrad's timing missed its mark as the little bastard sank down in front of him, reappearing behind him before ducking down again to avoid Konrad's side thrust kick. With the creature's constant teleporting, it became practically impossible to catch the little bastard, leaving him at its mercy as it continued with its hit-and-run tactics, slashing him over and over again until his body was covered in cuts that bled freely. Several cuts were made into his back, his arms, his chest. One caught him on the forehead while another cut into his leg caused Konrad to whine in pain as he collapsed onto the ground.
His body wracked in pain, Konrad breathed heavily as he crawled weakly on his stomach, shutting one eye as blood dripped into it. All around him, the audiences continued to chant that single word, or rather name, over and over again in delirious euphoria.
"SPINAL! SPINAL! SPINAL!"
Walking slowly toward him with cracking joints, each step punctuated by loud crunching, "Spinal" spun its cutlass in hand eagerly, eying him. Stopping just a few inches in front of him, it stood directly over him and stared down at Konrad, its skull giving that awful perpetual smile.
'So, this is how it ends,' Konrad thought with resignation.
As Spinal raised up his sword to deliver the finishing blow, Konrad caught sight of a pair of boots bury themselves into the skeleton's head, driving it off its feet and pushing it further away from him.
Konrad squinted under the arena lights as he tried to glance up at the silhouette that saved him.
"Hímiinhaama!" A familiar voice said into his ear. "Himiinhaama, are you alright?!"
Konrad nodded weakly as he felt a pair of strong hands lift him up and carried him off.
"Come on, Himiinhaama, we're getting out of h-"
He was cut off as he gave a cry of pain, causing him to drop Konrad. As he did so, Konrad heard that damn cackle again.
"Nein," he said weakly.
Konrad watched with one open eye as Spinal slashed at Eagle from all directions, torturing him, tormenting him as he circled, ran toward and teleported all around him, the arena filled with maniacal laughter. After dealing a certain amount of damage to the Native American, the skeleton leapt up, folded its arms together over its chest and sunk into the ground, teleporting right into Eagle, lifting him into the air and causing him to crash down hard.
Pushing himself up, Konrad struggled to get himself onto one shaky arm as the little shit teleported several times, playing with the injured Eagle as he stumbled back and forth on his feet before knocking him onto his back.
Once Eagle fell, Spinal slashed the downed figure across his chest, then raised up its disgusting shield into the air. Konrad's brows furrowed as it started to glow.
'What is it doing?' he wondered.
At that moment, the music stopped altogether, much to everyone's confusion. Then, lights in the stadium shut down, causing a few people to scream, leaving the shield as the sole source of light as the arena began to fill up with a thick mist. To Konrad's horror, the dead security guards that lay all around him rose to their feet, picking up their dismembered selves, several of them walking out from the fighter alleys with struggling personnel and the other surviving security guards in hand.
Dieter squinted as he tried peering through the thick smoky haze.
"Can any of you see anything in there?" he said to the other bodyguards.
"Nope," Michael answered.
"Me neither," said Lawrence.
The building shook violently.
"What the hell?" Dieter said. "An earthquake?"
Konrad remained still and tense as he peered through the mist. There were certain benefits a lycanthrope enjoyed, one of them being enhanced senses, but at that moment, however, Konrad would have given anything not to have them.
Once the shaking stopped, he saw something.
"What is that noise?!" Roger demanded as there came a sound of crackling gravel and a pair of soft booms.
"What the hell is going on in there?!" Michael asked nervously.
There came a swishing noise, followed by a loud groan, so loud that Dieter felt it rumble through his own body. There was also a very loud heaving noise that sucked air in and rumbled out.
"What the fuck is that?!" Dieter exclaimed. "Do you guys hear that?!"
"Probably a generator," Lawrence reasoned quietly. "A faulty fan, maybe?"
There came a loud thud that caused the booth to shake, as if something large had landed onto the ground. Then, there was a strange fleshy noise, followed by an awful chorus of screams. People were crying for help, begging to be let go, crying for their parents, to whatever deity listened. Lots of people cried out to Christ.
The screaming became so unbearable that the men had to clasp their hands to their ears, staying like that until it stopped. It was only for a few minutes, but it felt like an eternity.
Once it was over, the lights flickered back on, revealing the bloody arena below.
Dieter and the others gaped at what they saw.
"My God..." the bodyguard uttered softly.
Curled up in a fetal position for several minutes, Konrad opened his eyes nervously, his form trembling furiously.
The entire stadium was empty.
The only ones left were Spinal and Eagle, who lay unmoving on the ground.
The former raising his shield high into the air, Konrad watched as the thing on its arm narrowed its beady eyes and elicited a fearsome roar, glowing green and somehow sucking in the air all around it.
Once it was finished, the skeleton lowered the shield, tossed its skull back in a maniacal laugh in victory, then glanced back down at Eagle, tilting its head and shifting its jaw in curiosity before lunging at his fallen form, prepared to gleefully mutilate his unconscious body when a shot rang out, jerking its head back.
Konrad glanced around, then stopped as Dieter and the rest of the bodyguards, including Michael, who was still dressed in Konrad's cloak, came charging in from one of the fighter alleys. Roger and Lawrence repeatedly smashed their feet down on the creature's skull while it was down while Michael and Dieter came to the Baron's side.
"Baron! Are you okay?" the bodyguard asked in concern.
Konrad opened his mouth to say something, but as he did so, tiredness swept over him like a woolen blanket, causing him to lose consciousness as Dieter shouted at him repeatedly.