"What… you're not happy?" Corey asked from under her zebra mask. Tony clenched his teeth as they approached the seedy, decrepit club. His eyes locked onto the sign of the club, that blinked with cheap red neon lights. At one point the sign read "The Dolphin's Fan Club bar and grill" when in the hands of the original owners. Half of the sign had now been smashed, the remaining letters made up the new unofficial name of the place. "The Fan Club"
Tony ground his teeth in anger. What a stupid fucking name. He already knew he was going to hate it here. As if to make sure the city knew the dumb name wasnt any accident, the words "The Fans" were spray painted over the walls, next to shoddy imitations of the 50 Blessing's symbols. The jackasses couldnt even paint three horizontal lines and a circle right, clearly not the work of the original group, but by useless pretenders.
The fans… probably full of a bunch of wannabes hero worshiping Jacket like he's the next Messiah. Jacket showed them the way, but Tony refused to emulate him. Jacket was in prison, and had barely said a word other then "The phone made me do it." which the blood sucking reporters lapped up like the dogs they were. Jacket wasnt going anywhere. Worshiping him like some kind of fallen god wouldnt give these sorry sacks of shit enlightenment. It was up to them to turn their bodies into deadly weapons, to carry on where he left off.
These people should be out doing something rather then lounging around like bums and playing dress up. He had been to Corey's apartment a few times since they first discovered each others little secret. He saw her collage of all things Jacket… and that was not the reason he got into this. Maybe Corey would be content running around with a bunch of idiots, calling themselves "Fans" but not Tony. He was in this for the thrill, the rush he felt when he pushed himself just one more rep, that natural high of endorphins that flowed through his veins like liquid sex. Tony was in it for the action.
Tony wasnt a fan. He was a fucking gladiator, waiting to be unleashed on whatever got thrown in the ring with him. Tony would loiter in the back alleys of bars, and strong arm drunks and patrons for quick cash. The last guy who resisted, wound up with a broken arm and a shattered jaw. Unlike these pretenders, and unlike Corey, there was no fantasizing or illusions about him. He knew beyond a shadow of doubt, that his body was one hundred percent pure. A lean mean killing machine.
He spent half of his life sculpting his body to be perfect, what a colossal waste of fucking time that was. There was no such thing as perfect, he would never be good enough, not to himself, not when compared to the world's best. He would always try to get bigger, stronger, better. If he kept down that path, he'd spend his entire life pushing past limits, only to meet new ones. That and steroids were expensive. To be competitive at any level he had to shoot up like a junky to get a leg up. After spending everything he had on protein and shots of testosterone, he went looking for a new calling.
Thats when he started dabbling in power lifting, putting his power to good use. He would walk around the city thinking "Can I lift it?" before he quickly grew bored with that as well. After that he found what he thought at the time was his true calling, USBA/WBA. The United States and World Breaking Association. A group whose entire focus was competitive brick breaking. After giving his brawn a purpose, smashing bricks his bare hands, something clicked for Tony.
He wasn't lifting weights and punishing his body till it suffered for vanities sake. He was honing his fists to destroy anything they came in contact with. Every crack to his knuckles, or the bones of his wrists and forearms eventually healed, becoming denser, stronger. He had turned his fists into wrecking balls.
When smashing stationary targets got boring for Tony, he switched to boxing to swing at something that could actually fight back. He got a nasty reputation for being more of a bruiser then a boxer, but he hit like a truck and only the brave would face him. After a few months, no would even climb into the ring with him. He didn't give a shit, they were worried about winning matches, and keeping their bodies safe. They were jokes, not real fighters. Tony wasnt a petty boxer, he was a warrior. He worked the heavy bag until the flesh of his knuckles sloughed off for months on end, until the flesh grew back tougher, and his fists were closer leather wrapped irons, then skin and bones. Soon, he would be breaking assholes skulls, not bricks.
As the front of the shithole building grew closer, Tony finally answered Corey's question. "Yea, I'm fucking thrilled, why not just take me to a place called "The pretenders" next?" Tony said. He growled under his mask and cast a searing glare back at Corey. She met his hostility with her cool, detached eyes. Her way of coping with Tony's intensity seemed to be staring blankly, as far as Tony could tell.
"Alex said this place was cool…" She finally said with a shrug. Tony had been pushing Corey to find them something to do with their new found revelations. While he didnt really have any ideas of his own, he knew that Corey was smart and capable, she'd figure it out if he kept on her ass about it. She was the type of person who would keep her fantasies locked in her head and let them remain their, never letting them become reality.
Not Tony though, he was a man of action. What they were doing at this point was little more then having vigilante slumber parties, but instead of talking about cute boys and doing each others nails they talked about Jacket and killing people. Needless to say, Tony was unfulfilled.
"Hey dude, nice tiger mask! Wicked…" Said a street vendor, who had set up shop against the front of the club. He was selling T shirts with custom prints. He held one up with the 50 blessings symbol on it in tie dye colors, basically just a damn circle with three messy horizontal lines smeared across it. "Wanna buy a shirt, got a local artist making them, the mans a genius. Look at his work, tell me this isnt worth five dollars!" The vendor said.
"Its not worth five dollars, now get that out of my face." Tony said, clenching his fists. As he stared down the sniveling vendor, Corey shifted through the piles of shirts. She held up a shirt of Jacket, wearing his rooster mask, standing on a pile of dead bodies with his hands down to his sides, like some kind of saint of vigilantes. Tony rolled his eyes. "Common Corey, lets get this shit over with." Tony said roughly. Corey nodded slowly, and placed the shirt down, following Tony as he entered the club.
Tony opened the door and swaggered through the drunks and junkies laying on the floor or leaning against the walls, bobbing their head to the terrible grunge music coming from within the club. Tony cursed under his breath as he swung open the second door to the main hall of the club.
The first thing he saw was a shitty band, screaming their not quite punk, not quite rock "music" with as much rhythm as a car alarm blaring in your ears. "Fuck this place…" Tony grunted. "What?" Corey asked. The music was as loud as the singer was tone deaf.
"Lets just… just follow me!" Tony yelled, before strutting his massive frame to the bar, his fists tightly clenched in frustration. "Get me a beer." He said in a loud, hostile voice. The bartender blinked and grinned like a fucking moron, as he noticed Tony's mask. "Whoa, nice mask, you didnt get that from the box did you?" The bartender fawned. Tony narrowed his eyes at the bartender as Corey slid next to him at the bar. "What fucking box?" Tony asked. The bartender pointed, and Tony followed his finger to the three cardboard boxes In the middle of the room, stuffed with rubber animal masks. "No you idiot, this mask is the real deal! It's one of Jacket's masks. I found it at building he wiped." Tony said defiantly.
Tony couldnt help but feel a little swelling of pride at the wide eyed stares of approval, even if they were from these losers. Corey turned to him, before tilting her head to the side. Tony couldnt tell what face she was making under the mask but it seems like something he said didnt sit well with her. Tony didnt know what the hell Corey's problem could be, he wasnt lying.
He had looted a building where Jacket had one of his "sprees" and saw the carnage that man left in his wake. What a massacre. Throats ripped out, skulls bashed in, bodies torn up by bullets and shotgun blasts. There was even an explosion with rubble from upper floors reigning down onto the first. Tony was sure your average jack-off would run at the sight of a bloody war zone, but frankly, he was just impressed.
That fact that one man could do all this, with only his own two hands, and whatever improvised weapon he took from his enemies, was nothing short of amazing. He found the mask, ripped up and spattered with blood, in the middle of some rubble. An explosion from god knows what, blasted the center of the floor apart. Now, the entire bar looked at him, and the mask on his face like it was the holy grail or something. Tony ignored them, and took the bottle of beer from the bartenders hand, lifting his mask for a deep swill before slamming it back onto the table.
Corey seemed to have attracted her own little fan club. A bunch of swooning idiots in their early twenties hung around her, probably building up the courage to go up and talk to her. Bunch of pussies. She rightly ignored them, and waited at the bar next to Tony in silence.
Tony noticed out of the corner of his eyes, that a large guy with dreads was eyeing him curiously. The black guy had two moderately attractive women hanging around him, and looked to be entertaining a throng of idiots by spinning a butterfly knife around his fingers with effortless grace. Now, he was staring at Tony and Corey, with a strange curiosity, as he flipped the blade between his fingers.
Tony wasnt in the mood to chat, so he couldnt care less what the asshole wanted. He ordered another beer after slamming the last one back. He grabbed it from the bartender, who was still staring at him like some love starved puppy, and left the bar, making his way to what appeared to be some kind of lounge. In reality it was little more then a long, ragged, baby-puke-green couch, next to coffee table, with another ugly green couch on the other side of it.
Tony sat down on one of the cushions of the couch that was still intact, and drank from his beer, silently stewing. Corey hovered to his right, watching him silently. When the grunge band finally quit for the night, Tony spoke up. "You ready to leave this shit hole yet?" He asked. Corey sighed and scanned the table full of electronics and phones in the corner, before turning back to him. "We came here to meet people, to start something… remember?" She asked softly.
Tony scoffed and turned half around on the couch, gesturing to the bar full of losers. "With these assholes? You think any of these losers are the real deal?" Corey turned and scanned the area calmly, studying the patrons far longer then Tony thought necessary. "No…" She said begrudgingly. "Right, so lets get out of here." Tony said. He waited for her response, but didnt rise from the couch. Corey tilted her head at him. "Why? So we can go back to me watching you do one armed push ups at my apartment?" Corey said in a playful tone.
"Let's just go back to the basement, I scared those junkies off before, I'll just do it again." Tony said. Corey sighed sadly. "We need a real hideout… Not one that homeless people keep shitting in…" Tony watched Corey's zebra head hang, and her shoulder's slump. Losing her vigilante training yard that she worked so hard, on was really weighing on her. She's been acting moody and detached all week. Then again, she always was the brooding type and for all Tony knew she was just on her period. Still, Tony didnt like seeing her like this. "Quit your sulking already for fuck's sake." Tony said gruffly.
Corey glanced back at him. "I'm not sulking… I'm just not ready to leave yet…" She said frankly. Tony grunted. "Why not?" To which Corey simply pointed at the table full of electronics. "They have a police scanner, telephones hooked up to an ID blocker, and other stuff I dont recognize…" Corey said calmly. Tony leaned to the side and glanced around her at the table. Seems like she was right. "Fine, they got some toys and gadgets, but what does that matter if no one here has the balls to use them?" Tony said. "I think it's time I introduced myself…" A voice said, coming from behind Tony. He glanced at the dark skinned man with the dreads approaching with his entourage.
Tony stood face him, crossing his arms in front of his chest before speaking. "Who the hell are you?" The guy with the dreads narrowed his eyes and placed a hand in his front pocket. Tony eyed the outline of his knife. He smirked under his mask with predatory delight. His entire body yearned to see the guy pull his blade. He came here for some action, if not with these losers, he'd gladly take a bar fight as a consolation prize.
Corey must have sensed that Tony's body was rearing with anticipation and stepped foreword, getting the dread guy's attention. "Hey, I'm Corey, nice place…" She said softly. Tony saw the guy with the dreads, eyes sparked with recollection. "Corey? Yea, yea, yea! I thought that was you. You're the bitch with the dark hair right?" The dreads guy said an unnervingly familiar voice. Corey nodded, while Tony fumed under his mask at the man.
The dreadlocked idiot continued. "Pleased to finally make your acquaintance, officially that is. My name is Darius… whose your friend?" The man known as Darius said, glancing at Tony warily. Tony glared back at him. "Tony, and call her a bitch again, I'll take that knife in your pocket, and shove it up your ass." Tony said harshly. Darius blinked before narrowing his eyes, giving Tony a thousand yard stare. He watched Darius's hand rest on his front pocket. Tony's biceps bulged in anticipation.
One of Darius's girl friends step foreword between them. "Hey big guy, Darius didnt mean anything by it." The attractive blonde girl said, placing her fingertips on his arm. Tony smacked her hand aside so violently, she cried out pain. "Did I ask you, bitch!?" Tony snarled, keeping hiss furious glare on Darius's eyes. Corey took a step back, as Darius pulled the butterfly knife from his pocket and spun it open with amazing dexterity. He held it low at his side, not quite brave enough to raise it in Tony's direction.
Tony stepped closer. "I didnt come here to make friends, or to hang with a bunch of fucking posers." He hissed through gritted teeth. Darius's body tensed, he was close to springing that blade foreword towards Tony's guts, Tony could feel it. Tony had challenged him, more then challenged him! He had all but stomped on his sneakers. Tony grinned, his eyes piercing into Darius's with sadistic delight.
He knew this fucking joke of a man had one of two options. To stand by his ego and use his blade, or tuck tail like a little bitch. Either way, Tony won. "I came here to get some action. If you're the closest thing to a badass this place has, I'll gladly beat my thrills out of you. Either way, I'm not going home without getting my hands wet." Tony said, spitting out his hate filled words through clenched teeth. It wasnt just empty words, unlike everything about this den of fakes and phonies, Tony was raw. He meant what he said.
He waited, eagerly, for Darius to let his ego make the mistake for him. If his hand so much as twitched, Tony would break his arm. He stepped even closer, giving Darius every advantage to lift his blade. Darius's eyes flickered with conflicted emotions, and he grit his teeth. Tony could see the tug of war between Darius's fear and pride go back and forth behind his eyes. Tony maintained his fierce gaze, his eyelids twitching with anger under his mask, while his eyes burned with a furious hatred for the man. He not only wanted the man to move his hand now, to make the first move, he needed it. His muscles flexed and his veins swelled in his arms and neck. His body responding just to the thought of the upcoming action.
The rest of the club was silent, the bartender, the drunks at the bar, the junkies all watched, frozen in anticipation. Darius looked around in desperation. Tony hadn't just stepped up to some asshole, he had stepped up to the asshole. Must have been the top dog of this place. The king of the phonies. Probably showed off his skills twirling a butterfly knife like it was something to be proud of, like it somehow made him dangerous. It wasnt fast fingers and a knife that made someone dangerous, not even muscles and fists of iron. It's what's on the inside that mattered.
Tony could sense it right away in this joker before him. He was a fake ass bitch, Tony knew it, Darius knew it. What more, Darius knew that Tony knew it. Even so, Darius had to make a move, even if it cost him a trip to the emergency room. Darius was the king of this hive of shit, if he bowed out he showed everyone just how big a pussy he really was.
Tony waited for the inevitable, but something sparkled behind Darius's eyes. The idiot in dreads had an idea. Darius took a step back, his eyes now alight with forced admiration. "My man… you are one hard mother fucker! Do you know how long I've waited for the real deal to show up in this place? Since we took this place over, since the beginning!" Darius said, flicking his knife closed before raising his hands to his side, as if telling the whole bar to gaze upon Tony with awe.
Tony narrowed his brow, he wasnt sure if Darius was being serious, or attempting to laugh Tony off. If he was mocking Tony, he wouldnt wait for Darius to make the first move. The black chick who stood next to the blonde nodded in reverence. "Respect…" She said firmly. Tony looked around, annoyed at the wide eyed looks from the bar that had turned into looks of idolization. "I dont give a shit what you assholes think! I came here for one thing, and one thing only, get my hands dirty." Tony declared, which only made the crowds of idiots all the more impressed.
Tony glanced at Corey's eyes behind her mask, moving them around the crowd, before looking back to him. He wondered what she thought of all this, but he'd ask her later, when the hall full of losers werent gawking at them. Darius stepped foreword, nodding eagerly. "Thats exactly what I wanted to hear. We've been casing out the local scum bags for people no one would miss, watching, waiting, planning. You're the man to finally make this place legit, you feel me?" Darius said excitedly. Tony snorted back at him. "If you wanted to make this place legit, you wouldnt be planning, you'd be doing." Tony said.
Tony could see the annoyance flash behind Darius's eyes, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. "Its not that simple… we have been keeping tabs on the local bangers and dealers, but half of the people here are either junkies or bangers themselves. We cant just start a gang war and cut off the crack heads now can we?" Darius said. Corey nodded, placing a hand on Tony's arm. "He's right Tony, we have to pick our targets carefully."
Tony's arm tensed at Corey's hand placed on his bicep. He hesitated before jerking it away. He turned her fiery gaze to meet her cool detached one. "I didnt come here to make the world a better place neither!" Tony snarled at her. Corey crossed her arms, her eyes remaining calm. "Do you have any targets or places in mind then…?" Corey asked, giving him an obnoxiously knowing gaze.
Tony grit his teeth in frustration. She had him there, he hadnt planned anything more then what he'd do in the thrill of the moment, not how they'd get in and get out of a place full of scumbags without getting arrested or killed. He threw his hands up in the air and to the side in anger. "Fine, I'll play along for now… but you." Tony pointed his finger at Darius, who visibly braced himself. "If you cant find us someone or something to do… we're doing you in instead." The entire club watched Darius as he did his best to shrug off the violent implications and maintain his pride. "My muscle bound brother… do I have someone for you."