A Touch of Red
By evolution-500
Genres: Horror/Friendship/Romance
Feedback: Always welcome
WARNING: This story contains violence, coarse language, mature themes and disturbing imagery. Reader discretion is advised.
Disclaimer: KILLER INSTINCT is a property belonging to Rare and Microsoft while RESIDENT EVIL is a property belonging to Capcom. I do not own any of these characters.
Chapter Twelve: Thunder
Once the show had finished, Claire and the others were free to do whatever they wanted for the rest of the day. Most of them hit the gym in order to train for the upcoming fights for tomorrow, while others decided to visit the recreation room.
Claire herself decided to visit the computer lab in order to check up on her friends and family, if only to shake off her feelings of homesickness and loneliness.
Sitting in the computer lab, she stared at the screen, watching and waiting for the familiar and comforting visages of Leon and Rebecca, hoping that they would pick up.
She patiently waited a minute, then two. Finally, just as Claire was about to give up, her heart leapt with joy as both Leon and Rebecca appeared onscreen.
"Leon! Rebecca!" Claire said excitedly, overjoyed at the sight of her two friends.
"Hi Claire!" Leon and Rebecca waved, smiling. "How are you doing over there? I hope you're staying out of trouble."
Claire rolled her eyes. "Come on, guys, I'm not that bad!"
"Uh huh," Rebecca deadpanned, looking unconvinced.
"I'm serious!"
"Sure," Leon said with a hint of sarcasm and a smirk.
Claire's brow twitched. Sighing, her expression softened. "It's good to see you guys. I miss you both."
Rebecca smiled. "We miss you too, Claire."
Claire smiled back, her heart skipping a beat. "So," she began, "how did your date go?"
Rebecca's smile widened as she and Leon exchanged looks, the girl grabbing hold of his arm, hugging it tight.
"It was wonderful!" She beamed, pressing her head into his shoulder, pecking him on the cheek.
Claire felt a slight pang of jealousy, but kept the smile on. "That's great to hear, guys! I'm happy for you two."
"Thanks, Claire," Leon nodded, smiling back.
Lowering her smile, Claire looked seriously at the screen. "Has there been any news about my brother or his partner?"
She watched in dismay as their smiles dropped, Rebecca's head shaking sadly.
"I see." Looking apologetically to the screen, she bowed her head. "I'm sorry to have ruined your good mood, guys."
"You haven't," Rebecca piped up. "I'm just sorry that there isn't more we can do for you."
Claire nodded quietly.
"By the way," Leon piped up, "Rebecca and I saw you on TV!"
Claire's eyes widened as her smile returned. "You saw the fight?"
"Yep!" Rebecca winked. "I couldn't believe how fast that ended." She threw a fist at the camera. "POW! Ah!"
Claire blinked in surprise as the on-screen camera fell backward, showing what looked to be the back of the monitor.
"Rebecca!" Leon said with a slight tinge of annoyance.
"Oh God, I am so sorry about that, Leon! Is it broken?"
"No, it looks alright."
For a few seconds the screen started to wobble around, trailing up from the wall before being tilted back into place.
"Claire, are you still there?" Rebecca called.
"Yeah yeah," Claire waved. "I'm still here."
Her friend sheepishly rubbed the back of her head. "Sorry about that!"
Leon looked curiously at Claire from the screen. "So, are you going to the next fight?"
"Just came back from watching it, actually," Claire replied. "I can't say much, but man, it was amazing! It was sooo cool, you guys!"
"Really?" Rebecca sat up. "Ooh, you're getting me excited!"
"You'll love it!" The auburn-haired girl winked. "Just a bit of a warning, though - it's a bit bloody. I think the guy lost some of his teeth."
Upon hearing that, both Leon and Rebecca winced.
"Ouch. Thanks for the heads up." Shifting in his seat, the former raised his eyes to meet Claire's. "So, what are you going to do now?"
Claire thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. "Oh, you know, some training here and there. Maybe I'll stop by and get something to eat afterwards, perhaps play with one of the arcade machines they have here." She smiled. "It's great seeing you guys!"
"You as well, Claire!" Rebecca and Leon waved. "Take care, and good luck! If anything comes up about your brother, we'll be sure to let you know."
"I appreciate it, guys. Take care!"
As they disappeared from the screen, Claire saw her reflection drop the smile, her eyes drooping down sadly as she was left alone in the computer lab with the guard behind her.
"Alright," the latter spoke, "time to go, Ms. Redfield. Come this way and sign yourself out please."
Standing up from her seat, Claire turned around and nodded to him, following him back to the front desk.
"Ninety-eight...ninety-nine...a hundred!"
With that, Claire let herself drop from the handlebars of the dip stand, her arms sore and her body covered in sweat.
"Very nice work," Tyler Zhou nodded as he handed her a towel.
She smiled. "Thanks." As she wiped off her arms and face, Claire glanced around at the near empty training room. "Rather quiet today, huh?"
He nodded. "Indeed it is. They're probably at the bar having drinks. Today's karaoke and dance night."
Claire gave a look of surprise. "Is it?"
"Yeah!" He nodded vigorously. "Will you be joining?"
She smiled sheepishly. "I'm not good at either, unfortunately." The girl then gave the trainer a curious look. "What about the Baron? Does he do karaoke?"
Zhou let out a hearty laugh. "He used to when he was a young man. Lousy singer, though."
"Really?"
"Yeah! Don't tell him that I told you."
As the two of them shared a laugh, Claire looked back to the gym, glancing around at the equipment. "Does he ever work out here?"
"He does," Zhou answered slowly, "but he is a uh...private person by nature. He only prefers to work out when nobody else is around."
"Hm," Claire hummed.
"I take it you're trying to get a peek of the Baron," he said flatly.
She glanced up to him in shock. "W-What? N-No!" She bleated as she raised up her hands in protest, her cheeks blushing.
Zhou let out another hearty laugh. "I'm pulling your leg," he said before looking at her meaningfully. "But in all seriousness, though, don't. The Baron is very sensitive about his privacy. Even if you are a guest in his home, he wants his space to be respected. So please, refrain from doing anything that'll vitiate his trust."
Claire felt the words linger, then gave a slow quiet nod in acknowledgment.
As she did so, the man's expression softened.
"Good," he smiled. "I'll just clean up around here and put away some of the equipment."
"Would you like any help?" Claire asked.
"No no, it's fine," he waved. "Go right ahead and get changed, then sign yourself out, young lady. I got this."
"Are you sure? I'll gladly help out if you want."
"I'll be fine," he smiled. "Thank you for being so considerate, though. Not a lot of young people would help an old man nowadays."
Claire smiled back. "Hey, it's no problem! The way I see it, sometimes a person needs a helping hand. You're sure I can't persuade you?"
He chuckled. "You're a persistent one, I'll give you that. Go on, Ms. Redfield. I'll be fine."
"Okay," she waved. "Take care, Mr. Zhou!"
The recreation room was incredibly noisy, much to Claire's displeasure as she sat alone at the bar. Men and women laughed and clinked drinks together before gulping it all down while billiard balls clacked in the background as a group of guys played pool. Nearby, Claire heard the revs of digital engines and cheers of people mix with the clicks of the arcade game machines, with one or two of them uttering curses as they placed in some fresh coins.
"Hey there, baby!" An annoying, nasally immature male voice said to the right of her. "What's your name?"
Turning to the speaker, the girl frowned in displeasure as she took in his appearance.
He was young. Really young. Probably eighteen-years-old, but if she were being honest with herself, Claire was certain that the man - or rather, boy - was younger than her by at least two years. Thin and scrawny, the kid seemed to be an inch taller than her, with short, red parted hair. His clothes consisted of a short-sleeved black jacket with a yellow t-shirt underneath, while his lower half was clad in camouflage pants and oversized army boots.
Looking away, Claire tried ignoring the little twerp.
Moving to where she looked, he gave her a broad smile. "The name's Steve. Steve Burnside," he introduced himself, leaning on the counter beside her.
Taking a deep breath, Claire forced a smile onto her face. "Claire Redfield. Nice to meet you."
Just look away. Just ignore him, Claire - he'll go away eventually.
To her annoyance, Steve kept talking, kept trying to speak to her, his voice grating on her nerves.
God, even the sound of his voice made her want to grind her teeth!
"So tell me, Claire," he said slowly, testing out her name, "what is a hot dish like you doing in a place like this?"
Oh God, just kill me already!
"Hey babe!" A familiar voice drew her attention, causing her to turn and smile as Billy appeared and wrapped an arm around her, watching as Steve's own smile fell, "Sorry to have kept you waiting! Everything alright?"
Claire grinned. "Not all. In fact, I'd say your timing was perfect, actually." Turning to Steve, she nodded, "Steve, meet my boyfriend, Billy."
Steve blinked. "Your boyfriend?" he repeated.
"Yep!" Billy nodded, his arm wrapped around Claire's shoulder, pulling her close to him. "We've been going steady for some time now. Right, honey?"
"Uh huh," she nodded, looking over to the dance floor. "Say, Billy, why don't we go dancing? You promised me a dance, after all."
"Huh?" Looking to where she stared, Billy then gave an acknowledging nod, "Oh, right! That I have. I'm sorry, baby." Pulling his hand from her shoulder, Billy then held out his hand to her, "May I have this dance, my lady?"
Taking his hand, Claire smiled brightly. "Gladly!"
As the two of them left, Claire glanced offer her shoulder and saw Steve dejectedly watching them from the bar, then looked away to face Billy.
"Thank you for the save, Billy," she nodded.
Billy shrugged. "Meh, don't mention it. I saw how uncomfortable you were with that dweeb, so I kind of figured that I'd help you out somehow."
"Well, you swooped in at the right time and saved the day. I really appreciate it." She then looked expectantly at him, a corner of her mouth lifting into a partial and expectant smile, "Now then, about that dance..."
The Marine frowned. "I'm afraid I can't."
"Why? Afraid of getting cooties from little ole me?"
He scoffed. "No, but-"
"Come on, it will be fun!"
Billy's frown deepened. "Claire-"
"Come on. Please?" Claire pleaded. "One little dance isn't going to kill you, you know."
Billy's brow raised an inch. "You just won't take 'no' for an answer, can you?"
"Nope!" She popped her lips playfully, her shining with mischief. "You know you want toooooo." She said the last part in a sing-song voice, before continuing, "So what do you say, stud? May I have this dance?"
For a moment, the Marine had a guarded and uncertain expression on his features.
Closing his eyes, his features loosened as he smiled in spite of himself, shaking his head as he seemed to relent.
"You really are something else, Red." As he lifted his head, Claire felt her heart flutter as he gave her a warm smile, his eyes soft. "I think I might like you." He then held gestured to a jukebox and the dancefloor. "Shall we?"
Claire smiled brilliantly, her heart pounding in excitement. "Let's."
Bringing her over to a jukebox, Billy then inserted a quarter into the machine. "And what song would you like to play, my lady?"
The girl scanned the list of songs, then pressed "Only A Dream" by Kev Bayliss.
Tapping her foot to the beat, she nodded in approval, then turned to look at Billy.
Doing a mock curtsy, Billy held out his hand, his eyes beckoning her.
Claire smiled as she placed hers in his, his other hand placed on the small of her back, eliciting from her a shiver of excitement as he pulled her in and held her close, the two of them slowly dancing to the beat of the keyboard as it played. As the singer's voice echoed, Billy dipped her low, swaying her back.
"Only a dreeeeeeeeeeeeaam now.
Only a dreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeam.
I'm living in a dream world!
Living in a dream!"
Pulling her back up, the two of them twirled on their feet, the electronic beat pulsating as both partners kept their eyes firmly locked on the other's.
"Tell me how it feels when a mother
Has to see the sun fall down on her only child,
And tell me how it feels when another
Has to see the hunger,
When her baby only cries.
Only a dreeeeeeeeeeeaam now."
As Billy dipped her back again, Claire held her eyes closed as she smiled, enjoying herself as she whipped back up again in a curling arc, their movements coordinated, yet sensual, their hips grinding.
"In the real world.
Only a dreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeam.
The real world.
I'm living in a dream world!"
Claire let out a laugh as Billy raised up their arms and twirled her around in a loop before pulling her back, the two continuing to dance to the techno beat.
"My my my, aren't you quite the dancer!" Claire giggled.
Billy shrugged, giving a smug grin in return. "Well, what can I say? I aim to please."
The two playfully twirled together on the balls of their feet for some time when there came a change in Billy's demeanor upon hearing the next set of lyrics.
"When it feels-"
"Tell me how it feels when a fa-ther
Has to see his son shot down
From a thousand miles away,
OH!
And tell me how it feels,
Tell me how it feels,
Well is it real now?
Cause I'm waking up again!"
"Billy?"
Claire watched as the Marine stared off to the side, listening to the lyrics.
"Only a dreeeeeeeeeeeaam now.
In the real world."
"Billy, are you okay?"
"Only a dreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeam.
The real world."
"Billy, what's wrong? You're scaring me," Claire said as she eyed the Marine anxiously.
Billy continued to focus on the song, focused on the lyrics. He had a distant, almost fearful look in his eyes, his breath hitched in his chest, the Marine looking pale.
"Billy? Billy? Billy!"
"Only a dreeeeeeeeeeeaam now.
(I'd love to want to wake up!
I'd love to want to wake up!)
Only a dreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeam.
(I'd love to want to wake up!)
(I'd love!
I'd love!)"
"BILLY!"
Snapping back to reality, Billy blinked, then looked back at Claire. Looking down at her, the Marine let go of her hand.
"I...I can't," he said softly as he withdrew away from her.
Blinking in confusion, Claire's brow scrunched up. "You can't what?" The girl then gave a worried look as she tried stepping closer to him. "Billy? Billy, what's wrong? Are you okay? Are you feeling ill? Did I do something wrong?"
She watched as the Marine rubbed a hand along his mouth and chin, his eyes full of regret and sadness.
"...I can't get involved with you, Claire," he said, shaking his head.
Claire reared her head back in confusion, doing a double take. "What? Why?"
He exhaled, shaking his head. "I can't talk about it. Let's just go our separate ways."
She stared dumbfounded, feeling as if she were freshly slapped.
"Billy, please!" Claire pleaded. "What's wrong? Did I-Did I do something?"
He shook his head. "No, you didn't do anything wrong, Claire. It's me."
As the words left his mouth, Billy winced.
Claire stared at him, feeling hurt. Keeping it all in, the girl swallowed, her face burning, part of her feeling like she wanted to cry.
"...Tell me what's going on. Right. Now," she demanded in a hushed voice.
Sighing, Billy slicked his hair back with his fingers, running his hand straight through his mullet as he struggled to find the right words.
"Look, um..." he frowned, "...I entered the tournament because..." He swallowed, "because I'm trying to get out of the shit that I'm in, and..." He exhaled, "I'm afraid that's all I can say right now." He shook his head again. "I'm sorry, Claire...but...I can't get you involved."
With that, he turned around on his heel and left, leaving Claire alone on the dance floor.
"Why don't tell me how it feels,
Tell me how it feels
living in the real world?
Cause I'm waking up again!
Only a dreeeeeeeeeeeaam now.
Only a dreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeam.
Only a dreeeeeeeeeeeaam now.
Only a dreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeam.
I'm living in a dream world!"
The table shook violently as the entity that lay on top of it let out a shrill, angry roar of frustration in the pitch-black, sound-proofed attic, the creature struggling against its shackles and bindings.
Wriggling around like a worm, it flexed its boney fingers as it let out a strained grunt, feebly reaching out for his weapons, moving only an inch at a time.
Squirming around to the left, then to the right, it repeated the process over and over, then collapsed back onto the table.
Turning its glowing crimson eyes over to its tentacled shield and cutlass that were positioned some distance away, it gave an indignant squawk and huff.
No matter. All it needed to do was wait for all the pieces to finally align, along with the stars.
As he lay in the shadows, the entity rested its bony head against the table, its glowing red eyes the only sources of light in the entire room as it shifted its pelvis, trying to scratch its rear against the table.
Unsatisfied, he heaved out a tired sigh.
The walk back to her apartment was a dark and lonely one for Claire. Slipping her fingerless gloved hands into her pockets, the girl hummed the KI theme tune as she tried to distract herself from Billy and the painful emptiness that she felt. Sniffling slightly, Claire wiped her nose with the back of his hand, then wiped her eyes.
It had all been going so well, hadn't it? What made him suddenly decide to ditch her?
The way Billy had reacted, he looked scared about something.
As she felt the cold breeze touch her cheeks, Claire lifted a hand and brushed some bangs out of her face.
What kind of trouble was Billy in? Did he owe the wrong people money or something?
'If only he told me what it was,' the girl thought to herself.
Letting out a despondent sigh, she then shook her head.
It didn't matter. It probably wouldn't have worked out between them in the end anyway.
A good-looking guy like that, she wouldn't be surprised if he had a whole lineup of girlfriends at his beck and call. Hell, for all she knew, he was probably married with kids, and the reason why he joined was because he was looking to get a quick buck to pay child or spousal support, maybe even both.
Maybe he was gay.
While part of her felt somewhat felt satisfied with the explanation, part of her felt disappointed, nonetheless.
She exhaled through her nostrils. Yet another guy taken.
Was she destined to be...alone...for the rest of her life? Was she fated to watch from the sidelines as all of her friends and family find someone of their own to love and cherish?
Oh well.
Shaking her head, she shifted her thoughts away from Billy, turning her attention back to Chris and Jill. As she thought of the two, Claire's eyes drooped.
If only there was some sign that they were getting better.
Touching her pendant, Claire silently prayed, then planted an affectionate kiss on it.
Please protect them, God, Chris especially. He means the world to me.
Letting the pendant fall back down, Claire turned left around a corner when she heard a strange noise - a low, droning, throaty sound.
Puzzled, she followed the sound until she came upon Jago as he sat cross-legged on the ground, his eyes closed.
"...Jago?"
Hearing her voice, the Tibetan monk ceased making those strange sounds as he opened his eyes. "Ah. Hello, Claire," he warmly greeted.
Claire smiled. "Hi Jago. What are you doing all the way out here?"
"I was just meditating. It helps me think more clearly about things."
"Ah, I see." She then glanced around. "So, where is your room?"
He shrugged. "I sleep in the toolshed."
She reared back her head. "What?!"
Jago nodded. "It's true."
The girl clenched her mouth and fists. "Of all the cheap ways to save a buck..." She then looked back to meet Jago's eyes, "Have you seen the Baron about this? Because if you haven't, I'm going to make a complaint-"
"It's fine, Claire!" He raised a placating hand. "Really. It was I who had insisted on staying in the toolshed."
Claire blinked, her brow furrowing in bemusement. "Wait a second, you're the one who-"
"Yes," Jago nodded.
She blinked again, her confusion growing, "...Why?"
He adjusted his face-covering along with his robes, "It is forbidden for a Tibetan monk to sleep on a high bed, especially one so...luxurious. My customs probably seem strange to you, I'm sure, but you have to understand, we cannot pursue material comforts. A Tibetan monk's lifestyle is meant to be one of moderation."
The girl nodded. "I see." She then gave him a quizzical look, "Aren't you the least bit curious, though? Surely there must be some part of you that wonders what it would be like to go against the grain, if not just wants to experience it, if only just briefly."
Jago considered it, then shook his head. "No."
"Not even a teensy, weensy bit curious?"
She watched as Jago's eyes warmly lit up, a smile forming under his veil as he chuckled in amusement. "You are a persistent one, I will give you that. I'm afraid that my answer remains unchanged, though. The path of enlightenment is the only thing that I seek." He tilted his head slightly, "Is there anything else that you wish to discuss, Claire?"
Claire shrugged. "No, not really. I was just making my way back to my room. That's about it, to be honest."
Jago nodded. "Very well. If you don't mind, Claire, I would like to get back to meditating."
The girl blinked, a look of realization slowly dawning on her visage. "Oh. Oh! Ah, s-sorry!" She cleared her throat as she nervously looked aside, a blush of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. "I'm-I'm SO sorry for interrupting, Jago."
The Tibetan monk smiled warmly, raising a placating hand. "It's alright! There is no need to apologize, Claire. Really. It is always a pleasure talking with you."
"Same here. Take care, Jago," Claire waved.
As the girl departed, the monk settled back down and resumed, closing his eyes as he continued to throat-sing.
'What a strange man,' Claire thought as she looked over her shoulder.
A nice one, to be sure, but still, a pretty odd duck, all things considered.
Giving Jago a small smile, Claire looked ahead as she made her way back to her room, wondering what the next day will bring.
He had fucked up.
Sweeping a hand through his long hair, Billy deeply exhaled as he paced around outside, his mind feeling restless, the urge to slam his head against the nearest wall growing more and more with each minute.
What on earth was he thinking?! Here he was, trying to get his problems sorted, and he nearly let his dick do the thinking for him!
Granted, he was able to keep things from getting too complicated, but still, he regretted what he said to Claire.
As he recalled the hurt look that she gave him, Billy felt pangs of regret and guilt gnaw at him.
He shouldn't have said that to her. If only-
Whatever thoughts he had were cut off as he felt himself slam into someone, causing him to stumble.
"Oh crap, sorry, buddy!" Billy quickly apologized.
The other man, a big Native American with long black hair, waved him off. "It's okay. I wasn't paying much attention to my surroundings either." He wrinkled his brow in suspicion. "What brings you out here?"
Billy shrugged. "Ah, you know," he said simply. "Girl troubles."
The Native American tilted his head. "I gather you weren't able to find someone who was interested?"
Billy shook his head. "It's the other way around, actually," he stated in a matter-of-fact manner. "There is a girl. She's smart, funny, and very interested..."
"...But?"
The former Marine swept a hand through his hair, "But...life circumstances have given me a middle finger, and I'm trying to turn that around. I've ended up pushing her away because of it, without giving her all the details on why it's a bad idea, so right now I'm feeling like the biggest dickhead in the world."
The man thoughtfully digested his words, then grunted. "Perhaps it is for the best that this matter between you two is left unresolved."
Billy nodded in agreement. "Yeah. Yeah. Probably."
It made a lot of sense for him not to go down that road. If he had allowed it to continue, he would have dragged Claire down with him, and he couldn't do that. Not to her.
And yet...that still didn't make the regret nor the pain that he felt go away.
As the two men stood there in awkward silence, they shifted in discomfort, both struggling to find the words.
Finally, Billy cleared his throat, holding his out his hand, "I'm Billy. Billy Coen."
The big man accepted the offered limb and shook. "Hinmatoom. It means "Thunder" in Nez Perce."
A wry, lopsided grin rose upside Billy's face. "'Thunder,' you say? I like it!" He then lifted a hand and pressed his index and ringer into his thumb, making devil horns with his index and pinky fingers. "You a heavy metal sort of dude, or are you more of a soft rock sort of fella?"
Thunder scoffed. "Please." Grinning, he made the devil horns with his fingers. "Hard rock all the way!"
Billy let out a laugh. "My man! Great minds think alike, eh? Let me guess - guitar player, right?"
The Native American winced. "Oof. No, unfortunately. Used to when I was a teenager, but I haven't played a guitar in years. I'm a college professor at the University of Idaho."
"No kidding! How long?"
"Oh, about twenty years. My area of specialty is Native Studies, traditional medicine more specifically."
Billy nodded thoughtfully, impressed. "Nice. So what made you want to join up with this circus?"
It was then that Thunder's smile fell.
Sensing that he overstepped his boundaries, the former Marine cleared his throat. "...I take it you don't want to talk about it," he stated rhetorically.
Thunder didn't answer, his features flat, and yet, he couldn't help sensing a tremendous sadness about the man.
Looking uncomfortably around, Billy then glanced around the buildings, tapping his right foot nervously on the stone floor. "So, uh, you looking forward to the tournament, big guy?"
The Native American harrumphed, shaking his head dismissively. "No," he answered, catching Billy by surprise, "but then again, I don't really have much choice in the matter, especially given my...current circumstances. I don't intend on being with this freakshow for long if I can help it, and if I were you, I would think about quitting this program while you're ahead."
Narrowing his eyes, Billy squared his shoulders and looked up at the big man, balling up his hands into fists.
"Dude, what the hell is your problem?!" Coen snapped. "You think just because you're a foot taller than me and that you look like you eat dinosaurs for breakfast means you think you can bully me out of the tournament?! Fuck that, I was Force Recon, dickhead!" Billy seethed. "I've fought for my country and fought tougher assholes than you-"
"You misunderstand me," Thunder said with a calm patience. "I was not threatening you, Billy - I'm trying to warn you. There is something wrong with this tournament, with this place, with these people, and the longer we all stay here, the more we are pulled in."
Puzzled by the response, Billy felt his anger cool, only to find it replaced with complete and utter confusion.
"'Pulled in?'" he repeated. "Pulled into what? What are you talking about?"
He watched as the Native American remained silent for a long time. Finally, the latter's great shoulder's sagged, the big man exhaling, "I don't know what brings you to the tournament, Billy, but..." The former Marine blinked in surprise as the big guy gave him a pleading look, "...please. Leave while you can, while you are still able. Leave this place, and never look back. What awaits isn't fame and glory, my friend, but despair, horror, and wickedness. Whatever promises this place offers is nothing but shadows, and if you aren't careful, it will consume you."
As Billy watched Thunder speak, the more he saw a change in the big man's demeanor, and it both startled and frightened him. He looked absolutely terrified about something, but about what was not clear.
For a brief moment, Billy was tempted to follow Thunder's advice; in retrospect, participating in a televised martial arts tournament was probably the most foolhardy thing a person could do, especially when his main priority should be to avoid drawing attention to himself.
However...while part of Billy wanted to follow the Native American's advice based on the urgent and grave tone alone, he couldn't.
Closing his eyes, Billy shook his head. "I'm afraid that's out of the question, big guy," he replied. "I'm in deep shit right now; I've been laying low for too long, and KI is only ticket out of this mess for me. I need to win this tournament."
Hearing the urgency in his tone, Thunder gave him a curious yet steady look, his eyes lowered in thought as he seemed to digest the information. Billy watched as the large man then tilted his head to the side, "...How much trouble are you in, son?"
Billy shook his head again, "Believe me, a lot of trouble."
"That serious?"
"It's life or death for me, man. Literally. KI is my way out - I need to do this. If I don't...I'm completely fucked."
He watched as Thunder considered his words, a frown forming on the latter's face. "I see." Finally, the Native American dipped his head slightly. "In that case, I shall say no more. You have heard my warning. Good luck to you, my friend. I hope you are able to resolve your issues somehow. But walk with caution around here, Billy - be on your guard always, and be wary of everything on these lands, for evil lurks here."
And with that enigmatic response, Thunder departed, leaving Billy mystified and completely bemused, though with a slight, unexplained chill.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, the former Marine slowly shook his head, "Weird fuckin' guy."
Pulling his hand away, Billy troubledly stared up at the moon and the overhanging stars, his mind pondering on his next course of action.
Sighing, he shook his head. 'I need a drink.'
Blood splattered along the arena floor as teeth rolled loose, but Claire found herself unbothered by the bloodshed as she moodily watched the fight.
T.J. whistled. "Damn, looks like he's gonna need some dental work after that one!"
The girl stared disinterestedly, barely registering his remark.
Turning his head, the boxer quirked a brow. "Everything alright, kid? You seem pretty quiet. Quieter than usual."
Claire sighed, waving him off. "It's fine. Just have some stuff on my mind, that's all."
T.J. stared at her curiously, tilting his head. "Do you wanna talk about it?"
She shook her head. "No, no thanks. It's private stuff. I'll be fine."
"You sure?"
"Yeah, I think I'll be alright."
The boxer stared at her for a few moments. Finally, he gave a slight shrug of his shoulders. "If you say so."
Looking back to the arena, the two watched as personnel collected the defeated contender and picked up teeth from off the floor, the bloody stains standing out in all their gruesome glory.
"Hey, Claire!" Turning her head, Claire smiled as she saw Piers approaching her.
"Piers!" She greeted warmly. "Hey! How are you?"
"I'm good!" He smiled back. "How about you?"
She shrugged. "I'm okay, I guess."
"Looking forward to the next match?"
Claire shrugged a second time. "Honestly, I haven't been paying attention."
"Hey, Claire."
As Claire turned to see Billy, her eyes narrowed, the air becoming still. "Hello...Billy," she greeted coldly.
Piers and T.J. exchanged quizzical looks as they uncomfortably shifted, noticing the temperature drop.
Clearing his throat, Billy adjusted his collar. "So, uh...about last night-"
Claire harrumphed as she turned away, looking back to the arena with her arms crossed, giving him the cold shoulder.
Billy frowned. "Claire..."
She continued to ignore him.
Letting out a frustrated sigh, Billy's shoulders drooped.
"Is...everything okay, man?" Piers asked.
"No, it's nothing, Piers," Billy replied, his tone telling his friend to leave it alone.
Piers gave him a questioning look, then looked up as the speaker went off.
"And now for the next match!" One of the announcers said into the microphone, drawing everyone's attention.
Hearing the loud iconic and ominous clanging thump of the select theme as it struck her eardrums, Claire looked back to the arena, letting out a shaky nervous breath, watching on the holographic jumbotron as it shined over the arena in flashing neon.
"STEVE BURNSIDE!" The menacing voice of Chris Sutherland roared.
Claire watched as the spotlight illuminated the dork from the bar, the girl frowning.
"Oh joy!" She muttered. As the boy glanced in her direction, he blew a kiss toward her, causing her to roll her eyes.
Dickhead.
"BILLY COEN!"
Glancing over to the Marine, she watched Billy as he turned to face her. "Well, here goes nothing. Take care of yourself, Claire."
Claire harrumphed a second time, watching from the corner of her eye as the Marine stepped forward.
"FIGHT ON!"
Stepping into the arena, Billy watched as the young punk from the bar bounced around on the matt, doing some quick jabs in practice.
"I see your "girlfriend" isn't too impressed with you today!" Steve cockily replied.
Billy placed his hands on his hips, standing akimbo style. "My love life isn't any of your business, kid. Besides, she's not interested in a munchkin like you."
Steve huffed. "We'll see about that!" He then jabbed the air. "Once I beat you and win that million-dollar prize, she'll forget all about you. She'll be my girlfriend!"
The Marine sneered, baring his teeth. "Counting your chickens before they've hatched, junior" he replied. "Besides, last time I checked, it's still her choice and decision, pal. I would bet every last dollar I got that she would turn you down even if you had a hundred million."
The boy's face reddened as he stood there looking flustered, as if struggling to find some witty comeback. "S-Shut up! I'll-I'll show you!"
Billy quietly regarded the kid, looking him up and down, shaking his head. "No offence, kid," he began slowly, "but...I don't think you're cut out for this. Like...at all."
The boy arrogantly smirked. "You're just afraid that I'm going to beat you!"
Billy scoffed in derision, "Oh, rub a fuckin' lamp! It's not a question of who's gonna win, junior - between us, I know my chances. The question you should be asking yourself right now, kid, is how you are gonna leave." He then crossed his arms. "I'm gonna give you a chance to surrender. Just leave. Either you quit, or I knock you on your ass. Which do you want it to be?"
Tightening his hand into a fist, Steve punched his palm in answer, glaring hatefully at the Marine.
Shrugging, Billy cracked his knuckles. "I warned you, kid."
"READY!"
No sooner had those words echoed when both fighters lunged toward one another...when the church door suddenly opened.
"STOP THE FIGHT!" Sabrewulf's voice suddenly cut in over the speakers, causing them both to skid to a halt and look around in confusion.
"Huh?" Claire's brow furrowed at the monitor, then at the other fighters around her, a murmur growing among the crowd.
Claire watched in confusion as Baron Von Sabrewulf was wheeled into the building by his bodyguard Dieter, the two escorted by a group of guards along with two other unidentified people, a Caucasian man and a woman.
"Who are they?" Piers wondered.
Looking to the other two people beside Sabrewulf, Claire carefully studied them, starting with the man.
He didn't seem to be an executive or security guard; nothing about him stood out. Dressed in a green shirt and baggy olive pants, the man appeared to be in his mid to late thirties, with a heavy "dad-bod" sort of build. His hair was very short, reddish brown in color, his eyes framed by a pair of thick squarish glasses, almost reminding Claire of Hank Hill from "King of the Hill".
The woman, by contrast, was of a much thinner build and pretty, with short, wavy blonde hair, dressed in a pink sweater and blue jeans.
Both the man and woman looked angry, their attentions fixed in a tight glare at someone.
Following their gazes, Claire turned to the arena, where she noticed one of the fighters - more specifically Steve - grow very still and pale, his face etched with worry.
"Mr. Burnside," Sabrewulf called through the microphone. "Please come down from the arena. Your parents are here to pick you up."
Laughter erupted from the other fighters as Steve looked around in embarrassment, the young man trying to cover his face, pretending to not hear what was being said.
"Mr. Burnside, please come down from the arena, or security will escort you off the premises."
As the boy continued to play dumb, Claire watched as Steve's mother suddenly pointed to the ground in front of her, shouting, "STEVEN SAMUEL BURNSIDE, GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE!"
Wincing, the boy whipped around, calling back, "BUT MOM-"
"YOU HAVE TEN SECONDS TO GET DOWN HERE, YOUNG MAN! DON'T MAKE ME COME UP THERE!"
"I'M NOT COMING DOWN! YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!"
"YES I CAN, I'M YOUR MOTHER! GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!"
Claire watched as Steve's shoulders sagged in resignation. Putting his hands into his pockets, he stared to the ground as he made his way out from the arena, walking dejectedly toward his parents. Stopping in front of them, the boy flinched as his parents said something to him, probably the biggest scolding of his life, the latter looking very, very angry. A tear fell from his eyes as he tried to conceal his shame and embarrassment.
Everyone in the building was howling with laughter. Everyone except Claire, who could only watch with pitying eyes as the boy was escorted.
'Poor Steve,' she thought sympathetically.
Even though he seemed to be something of a dink, it was hard not to feel sympathy for the kid.
As the boy left the building with his family, Claire watched as Sabrewulf and Dieter spoke with the announcers, the latter frowning.
"Uh, our apologies, ladies and gentlemen," one of the announcers began slowly, "but uh...it has been brought to our attention that Mr. Burnside has been disqualified from the tournament. It would, uh, seem that a...slight adjustment will have to be made to the schedule. As such, Billy Coen has been declared the winner of this match by default."
Looking over to the Marine's face, Claire suddenly giggled at the bemused look that he gave as he stepped out from the arena, then quickly tried stifling it, doing everything to hide her smile.
"Hey Billy!" Piers greeted his friend. "Congratulations, man!"
Billy scratched his head, "Uh, thanks, I guess. Not exactly how I thought it would turn out, to be honest." He muttered the last part, almost to himself. "In a way, I can't help feeling like I've been cheated. This is the second time that this has happened to me."
Piers shrugged. "Maybe third time will be the charm."
The Marine shrugged back. "Here's hoping. If this keeps up, I'll win the million bucks in no time."
"Not if I beat you first," Claire spoke up with a wicked gleam in her eye, her mouth pulled into a disarming smile.
Blinking in surprise, Billy opened his mouth to respond when the speaker cut him off, causing her and everyone else to face the arena.
"And now for the next match."
Hearing the ominous select theme, Claire turned her head to the holographic jumbotron, the girl waiting eagerly to see who the next fighter would be. A series of portraits and names fluttered along the screen, until finally one was picked.
"ZUBAZ!"
Claire watched as the spotlight fell on a man that stood two rows away, drawing her attention to him. The crowd made it a little difficult to see who it was, but as he approached the arena, she got a clearer view of him.
The man was tall, muscular, and burly, with short blonde hair and a thick soup catcher beard. Clad mostly in black, his apparel was grungy, consisting of a torn black tank top and a pair of dark blue jeans, the latter held up by a thick brown belt. A brown leather harness was strapped around his broad chest, his arms clad in a pair of spiked wrist guards and black gauntlets, while long, knee-length brown motorcycle boots concealed his lower legs.
Painted around his eyes were a pair of black axehead designs, his eyes entirely white, almost seemingly devoid of either pupils or irises.
Blinking at the sight of him, Claire tilted her head. "Really? He's a contestant?"
Billy shrugged. "Honestly, that's a surprise. I thought the guy was a hobo, in all honesty. I had no idea that he was part of the tournament."
"THUNDER!"
Widening her eyes, Claire straightened as the spotlight fell on the tall Native American. Dressed in a black tank top with military fatigue pants and combat boots, she watched as he made his way into the ring with a pair of tomahawks in hand, his eyes hard and filled with determination.
Waving her hand wildly in the air, the girl smiled as she called out, "GOOD LUCK, THUNDER!"
Pausing midway up the step, she watched as Thunder turned to face her, his features softening as he offered a wide smile and an assured wave back before proceeding onto the ramp.
Stepping into the cage, Thunder took in his opponent, the man tilting his head from side to side as he stared back.
"Huh," the latter muttered. "Interesting. You an Indian?"
Hinmatoom brow twitched at the offensive remark. "It's 'Native American'," he said pointedly.
The man shrugged. "Meh, potato, pottatto, it's all the same to me." Zubaz's mouth formed a wide grin as his white orbs narrowed. "Tell me, little man - CAN YOU FEEL THE STORM?!" Letting out a boisterous laugh, Zubaz spread his arms out in a grand gesture. "Born under a blood-red moon, I am manliness incarnate!"
Kneeling low, he then started to flex his biceps, getting into a series of over-the-top muscle poses in demonstration, causing Hinmatoom to blink in bewilderment and looked around at the crew and at his fellow fighters with uncertainty, partially questioning his own sanity, if not the man's.
Was this some sort of joke?
Part of him wondered if the showrunners were having a laugh at his expense, just because...who in their right mind would let this guy in?!
Konrad sat alone in his office as flatly stared at the monitor, watching the man doing his macho man crap.
Letting out an exhausted sigh, he exasperatedly shook his head in dismay. "What an asshole."
Once he finished, Hinmatoom watched Zubaz as he took his rope whip off from his broad chest and spun it wildly in a looping vertical arc, the latter getting into a stance. "Let's. Go!"
"READY!"
The moment the words were uttered, Zubaz swung the rope upward, where it latched securely around the top bar of the cage.
Hinmatoom barely had time to think as the strange man swiftly lifted himself upward from the floor and swung forward, using the momentum of the swing to drive his booted feet into the Nez Perce fighter's chest, catching him by surprise.
Letting out a grunt, Hinmatoom let out a sharp gasp as the impact drove all the air from his lungs, his powerful form crashing to the ground.
Hearing a roar, he quickly rolled to the side upon catching sight of Zubaz charging toward him like a maniac, his heavy boots narrowly missing his head, stomping brutally down on where he had lain.
Recovering, Thunder violently swung his tomahawks at his opponent, his body twisting around on his heels with agility and grace despite his large size, forcing his opponent to back off, if only momentarily.
Upon completing his first arc, Hinmatoom caught a fleeting glimpse of his opponent's rope as it spun around its wielder again when the latter suddenly whipped it in his direction. Dodging left, he felt a slight displacement of air as it narrowly snapped past his face, the rope drawn back to its owner with a sharp "thwip".
Spinning the rope wildly around again, Zubaz offered him a yellow-stained smile, his eyes gleaming with maniacal intent as he let out a laugh before lashing out again with it.
Hinmatoom ducked his head as the rope whipped past him, the Native American feeling it snap against his left cheek, making him wince as he felt the sharp sting.
Stumbling, Hinmatoom touched the spot where he felt the rope made contact, then pulled his fingers away to reveal slight traces of blood.
Looking up from his blood-stained fingers, he narrowed his eyes at Zubaz as the latter continued dicking around with his rope.
"Heh heh heh. Care to turn the other cheek, buddy?" His opponent taunted.
Clenching his jaw, Hinmatoom adjusted the grip on his tomahawks as he straightened himself, staring with fierce hard eyes at Zubaz.
"Oh yeah! Let's boogie, my friend! That million bucks is as good as mine!" As Zubaz reared his rope whip back, Hinmatoom watched as the rope inadvertently latched onto an overhead crane-mounted camera.
Looking up in confusion, Zubaz tugged on the rope. "Oh no." He then started to tug again, then a third and fourth time. "Oh come on!" Gritting his teeth, Zubaz violently yanked on the rope, causing the overhead camera to come crashing down. "Oh shit."
Glass cracked against the floor, the impact making everyone flinch, causing smoke to rise up.
A stunned silence fell across the arena, the camera sparking and smoking. Hinmatoom watched as Zubaz sheepishly rubbed the back of his head, the Nez Perce fighter lifting his brow.
"Umm...whoops!" Zubaz chuckled, looking somewhat embarrassed. He raised a hand, "Sorry, my bad!"
Elsewhere, Sabrewulf facepalmed, letting out a weary sigh. "Dummkopf."
Once Zubaz managed to untangle his rope from the wreckage, the two fighters resumed their match as the blonde snapped his rope again, only this time, Hinmatoom was prepared to meet his opponent's attack.
Raising up his arm, Hinmatoom quickly snatched the rope out of the air, preventing it from wrapping around his neck.
Letting out a rumbling growl, he yanked hard on the rope, the two men straining on both ends as they struggled for dominance.
"Got some strength on you, boy!" Zubaz grinned.
"You're not too shabby yourself," Thunder nodded in acknowledgement before jerking it violently, catching his foe off-guard as it caused him to stumble forward.
Grabbing him by the arm, Thunder then swung his opponent into the bar walls, slamming hard into the cage's frame, the impact making it tremble before wrapping his arm around Zubaz's neck, holding the latter in a chokehold.
Gritting his teeth, Thunder felt Zubaz twist violently in his arms as his foe sought to remove himself from the Native American fighter's iron grip.
"You fight well," Thunder complimented, "but I'm afraid that this fight must end. Surrender."
Zubaz barked out a laugh, "In yer dreams, pal!"
Hinmatoom let out a grunt as the blonde slammed the back of his head into the bridge of his nose, producing an audible crack.
Stumbling backwards, the Native American regained his balance as he felt blood and snot running down his face. Grabbing the bridge of his nose, Hinmatoom snapped it back into place, letting out a groan.
Both men stood their ground, their challenging gazes never wavering, the two men panting in both exhaustion and excitement.
Tilting his head to the side, Zubaz gave Hinmatoom a questioning look, "You never used your tomahawks on me."
Hinmatoom lifted a brow. "Why, are you disappointed?"
Zubaz shrugged. "Not really. Just curious as to why you won't use them. What gives?"
The Native American remained silent for a long while, deliberating whether to answer. Finally, he gave a casual shrug, "These are family heirlooms that have been passed down through my family for generations. They are of a spiritual nature and mean a great deal to me."
"So why haven't you cut me already? Don't tell me that you're scared of a little blood."
Hinmatoom tiredly shook his head, "Please, I'm a trained hunter - I've seen plenty of blood. It's just I have no desire to either hurt or maim you."
Zubaz dryly chuckled. "Well, ain't that awfully considerate." He then started to spin the rope again. "Too bad I have to plow through ya, though. Don't take this personally, buddy, but there's a million dollars on the line with my name on it, and this cowboy ain't leavin' 'til the fat lady sings and you are hogtied on the ground."
Letting out a loud roar, Zubaz charged forward, prompting Hinmatoom to meet his opponent head on as he leapt up and delivered a powerful dropkick, his boots planted firmly into the blonde's face.
Both men crashed hard to the floor, but only Hinmatoom recovered to his feet, the Native American panting as he looked down upon the unconscious form of Zubaz.
Wiping the sweat from his brow, he approached the body, then kneeled down, checking his pulse. Once he was certain that Zubaz was still breathing, Hinmatoom respectfully gave a nod of acknowledgment to his fallen opponent. "Thank you for the battle. You have fought well, but I'm afraid that this is where we must part ways." He dipped his head, "Take care, and may you recover quickly."
Turning on his heel, Hinmatoom started to make his way toward the exit.
"AWESOME VICTORY!"
Claire whooped loudly as she saw Thunder stepping away from the cage. "WHOO! YEAH, THUNDER!"
She watched as the Native American glanced in her direction and gave her a slight laugh and a small wave before disappearing into the throng of fighters.
"So, you know him too, huh?"
Claire's smile disappeared. "We talked for a bit," the girl replied coolly, not facing Billy. "He had wanted me to leave the tournament."
Billy folded his arms. "You too, huh? Guy said the same thing to me last night as well. Bit of a weirdo, if you ask me."
"Yeah, well," Claire spoke as she continued to avert her eyes, "I think I'll just head on out. I'd like to be alone." She uttered the last few words with venom.
She sensed the Marine reaching out to her. "Claire..."
"Save it." With that, Claire stormed off to the church exit.