A/N: Hello, fanfics! I am returning from dealing with the concept of life and bringing forth a new chapter. Also, to those following/favoring my story, thank you for your patience. Writing a story can be, at times, challenging, especially when life throws lemons, but patience is all the more reason to make things sweeter. Anyway, enough of my ramblings, so sit back and enjoy.
Disclaimer: If you check out previous chapters, I had put up a sign saying, "I do not own Killer Instinct nor Carrie."
Chicago's windy, neon-filled sky obscured the stars, creating a false nightscape. The inner city was more chaotic, as honking horns and screeching brakes filled the air.
Among the towering skyscrapers and bustling streets was a former boxing gym tucked away.
Debris and various pieces of equipment littered the ground. Several panels with the words "TJ COMBO" and Ultratech billboards flickered.
Cranes remained still, with wrecking balls creaking.
TJ stood alone, focused. Short black hair mixed with light gray stubble adorned his head. Across his left eye was a deep scar, leaving him half-blind.
A goatee encircled his firm lips. A blue workout shirt matching his star-spangled shorts covered his muscled build. His boxing shoes extended to his ankles.
His MMA-glove-clad fists swung as music played from a portable radio, matching TJ's rhythm. As he stopped for a break, his body glistened with sweat. TJ loved coming to this place, reminding him of his glory days.
The welted scars lining his biceps reminded him of his mistakes.
Never again. Though not a saint, he was no one's bitch. His remaining eye focused on the ruined walls as he examined the photos and news clippings. His heart sank at the sight of angry graffiti on the wall.
"FRAUD!" One message read.
"CON ARTIST!" Read another in bold.
"TJ sux," another scrawled as if a nine-year-old had written it.
Other messages, such as racial slurs and phallic images, signaled contempt for the once-proud boxing king. TJ balled his fists, rage boiling in his veins.
He noted the swinging crane looming nearby while viewing the city. Sighing, he switched radio stations.
"Is your mood down? Is your love life different now? Try our all-new Willy Whopper 9000 cybernetic enhancements with spin action! For only 19,999.95-"
TJ twisted the knob. "My equipment works fine, thanks. Damn. I haven't dated a woman for ages. Hm. Let's see what else I can find."
"COME ON DOWN TO LARRY'S FURNITURE, WHERE WE SELL THE LATEST HOVER-CHAIRS-"
Click.
"Lovin' you-"
"Ugh! God, no!" TJ changed stations.
"If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends-"
Click.
"Puberty love!" a high-pitched voice sang off-key.
"Jesus Christ! What is this, the day music died? Fuck a duck!"
Click.
"The search is still underway for John Hargensen, who-"
TJ blinked when the sound ceased. He tested the radio by pressing the on-switch. Scowling, he shook and smacked it. Just great. The battery died. He grabbed a dirty towel sitting on a bench, wiping sweat off his face. What do I do now?
His involvement with Ultratech was disastrous. Now, he was back where he started.
TJ winced as a migraine arrived. He threw the towel aside and headed to the changing room.
TJ checked his reflection in the window when he arrived at Toons Bar & Grill. He wore a golden jumpsuit with sunglasses. He styled his hair in two small braids and left the upper part untouched, leaving the rest shaved.
"Damn, I'm fine!" He smiled before entering. People crowded the bar, but TJ found an empty seat near the booth.
A bartender approached the table while cleaning a cup. "Hello, TJ. You're looking sharp!"
"Thanks, my man!" he greeted.
"The usual as always?"
"You know it."
"Coming right up, chief."
TJ removed his sunglasses as the server left, glancing around the tavern. Most customers were in their twenties, much to his annoyance. While waiting, he peered at the television in the corner.
"Can you turn that up, please?" TJ called.
The attendant obliged, increasing the TV volume.
"We have an update on King's Memorial Park in Chamberlain, Maine. Efforts are underway to locate John Hargensen," a journalist reported. "He employed three young men to deface Carrie White's grave, who died following the Black Prom massacre. The two men died from unknown causes, but the third faces charges of attempted property destruction."
"What's wrong with these people?" A woman in her forties sat at a nearby table, frowning. "Let the girl rest in peace!"
"Did I miss something?" TJ asked.
"Didn't you hear about the incident in Maine?" the woman asked.
"No."
"Some dumbass kids dumped blood on a Prom Queen as a prank. Without warning, the town is on fire."
"She shot up the place?"
"Yer' talkin' about the witch?" an old Scottish man two tables from them asked.
TJ arched an eyebrow. "Say what now?"
"Never mind him. He's drunk. According to the news, a gas tank exploded inside the school," the woman said. "The blast killed… four hundred and forty people. Most of them from a senior class and half the teachers."
"Jesus."
"The girl endured years of bullying. Courts ruled she was a victim and not responsible for the town's destruction. The survivors and families of the victims were unhappy and expressed their hatred in shitty ways."
"The girl's spirit also haunts the graveyard," the Scottish man said. "They say she'll kill anyone who besmirches her headstone."
The woman scoffed. "You're full of shit, Howard."
"It's true. A friend of a friend told me. Trust me, she's a witch."
"Right, and I'm the Queen of Sheba."
"I have a friend who has mind powers," another person slurred, belching. "He can make his nose, ears, and private parts wiggle using his thoughts. All at the same time!"
The woman laughed. "Well, ain't that handy! Maybe he should join the circus."
TJ fell silent as the group discussed the supernatural, refusing to comment. He was no stranger to dark stories, having attended the Killer Instinct tournament long ago. At that event, he had witnessed horrible things that kept him awake at night.
He rested his fingers on his scarred left eye, still feeling the phantom pain from the damage caused by the ferocious dinosaur-hybrid Riptor.
His train of thought stopped when Howard cleared his throat.
"Have I seen you before?" he asked.
"No, I have one of those faces, I guess," TJ said, playing dumb.
Howard stared at him, then lifted and dropped his shoulders.
"So…." TJ tapped his glass. "You think she did it?"
The woman mused. "I don't know. Any story is like a coin; there are two sides. In either case, that girl's story remains untold, and I pity her."
The pub was quiet as TJ sipped his drink.
Stepping out, TJ stretched his arms and yawned. Well, no hot date for me. He breathed in his hands and rubbed them before slipping them into his coat pockets, walking alone.
While strolling down an alley, a noise caught TJ's attention. "What the fuck? Hello?"
A slight chill swept through him as the noise grew louder. Squinting, TJ cracked his neck and knuckles, switching to a combat stance. His heart hammered as he waited. Then, a pigeon perched on the nearby stone wall. Cooing, it pecked at its feathers and pooped on some bricks.
TJ slumped, stifling a laugh. "Goddamn. You scared the shit out of me, bruh." The pigeon minded its business. While turning away, he waved. "Keep out of trouble, okay? You're lucky I didn't punch—" He didn't finish his sentence when something skewered the bird, alerting him. "What the fuck?!"
His right eye widened when he discovered the pigeon twitching, shrieking. At first, TJ assumed it was an orange spear, but then he froze: it was a segmented tail.
From the shadows, a lizard-like head emerged, its green eyes shining with wicked intelligence, its glistening teeth long and sharp. The creature moved its head toward its tail, sniffing the animal it had caught.
A long tongue slipped out and flicked across the pigeon's body, panicking it. Then, curling its scaly lips, it consumed the helpless bird.
After its snack, it knocked aside garbage cans, bricks, and cardboard boxes, allowing TJ to see the creature.
"Oh, come the fuck on!" TJ groaned as déjà vu struck him. "Not this shit again!"
The creature was about as tall as an average person, its hide red with black markings and a yellow underbelly. Along its spine were bionics, matched by surgically implanted gauntlets.
TJ wasn't sure what the gauntlets were for, but what caught his attention were the glowing blue claws emitting heat. The creature eyed him, snarling.
"What are you looking at, huh?! Did your Ultratech bosses send you a little TJ-flavored steak? Well fuck you, butt-breath. I've beaten my share of Jurassic Park-looking motherfuckers already! Get the fuck out of here before I unleash an extinction event on your scaly ass!"
With a roar, the raptor lunged. However, TJ grabbed the oncoming animal before twisting around on his heel and slamming it on the ground with a loud crack. Upon mounting the downed creature on its side, he pounded the beast.
The raptor flailed its limbs and screeched, with the boxer avoiding its claws and bites.
While TJ continued his blows, something snapped against his shoulder, knocking him off with a grunt. The damned thing's tail must've whacked me. With teeth gritted, TJ glared at the animal rising and facing him.
Snarling, the creature pounced on the old boxer, knocking the wind out of him. He seized its snapping jaws, wincing and yelling as its hot, noxious breath hit him.
"Get the fuck off me!" TJ heaved the raptor off him, punching its eye.
Yelping, the creature backed away. Once it recovered, the beast glanced at the alley, shrieking. From the darkness, two more creatures appeared. One had a dark blue hide, while the other had a warm brown hue. Their mouths revealed drool-covered teeth.
"Oh, fuck-a-doodle-doo, there's more of you?!" TJ griped.
Determined, the three raptors charged toward their prey.
After regaining his footing, TJ Superman-punched the red animal and backhanded its blueberry sibling.
The brown raptor tackled him, getting him off his feet and pinning him down. TJ braced himself as he slid along the concrete. Jaws clenched, he reared his head and slammed it into the raptor's eye. The creature shrieked and stumbled before TJ jabbed.
He swung once he clutched the brown raptor's tail, catching the approaching blueberry sibling by surprise.
From his side, the boxer had a split second to evade the crimson-hued beast, its sharp claws tearing into his muscular arms.
A guttural cry escaped his lips as searing agony engulfed his biceps.
"ARRGH! FUCK! OH, YOU MOTHER-" Enraged, he charged at the offending creature like an angry bull, his fist cocked. "You fucking shit!"
TJ reeled back to deliver the blow when Dark Chocolate rammed into him; its mouth clamped on his arm.
He cried out, but adrenaline numbed his pain as he opened the Stalker's mouth to free his bitten limb.
Volleys of bone-crushing punches rained down on Dark Chocolate, sickening thuds echoing through the air with each impact.
The creature's face became a canvas of blood and shattered teeth, the metallic scent of iron filling the space as the blows connected.
TJ backhanded the red beast as it lunged towards him again. Then, a surge of pain shot through his shoulder as Blueberry approached from behind and sank its teeth into his flesh.
"Fuck! You're biting me?!" TJ flung himself backward with a fierce snarl, slamming the creature into the wall before throwing it hard to the ground.
He gave a sharp kick that knocked its teeth out of its face. While dodging an attack from Dark Chocolate, TJ wrapped his arms around its neck.
"I'll show you who bites who, bitch!" He bit into its eye. Dark Chocolate screeched as TJ tore its eye out. "Nighty-night, fucker!" He snapped its neck.
As Dark Chocolate hit the ground, TJ turned to face Red and Blueberry, their eyes fixed on him. He got into his stance, waving them on. "Come on! Who else wants some?! That's the second time I've done this, and I'm just gearing up!"
In the biting Chicago wind, TJ's face remained warm and damp, bruises and blood covering his body. He held his breath until the creatures perked up upon hearing police sirens.
The reptile grunted at its red-colored sibling. They turned around, fading into the shadows.
"Yeah, that's right, bitch! You motherfukas better run! I am TJ fuckin' Combo, the toughest motherfucker on the planet! You and your posse ain't eatin' nothin' but three feet of dick!"
"Hey! Shut the fuck up!" an annoyed man called from an adjacent window high up.
"Come on down and make me!" TJ threw his arms out. "You wanna shut me up?! Then fight me like—"
A thunderous noise interrupted the former boxer's words, piercing his ears. His body flew from the ground, engulfed in scorching heat. TJ rolled several times as he crashed into the pavement.
After the impact, his bones ached, and his head spun. TJ struggled to stand, wincing with each movement.
People shouted and screamed as the ghetto and street shone orange.
Buildings crumbled around him, along with Combo Gym.
With tears stinging his eyes, TJ clenched his mouth, watching everything he had fought for turn to smoke. As the sirens moved closer, the adrenaline dissipated from his system.
Before losing consciousness, TJ glimpsed smoke wafting into the pitiless black sky.
Within the gloom, the annoying beeping of a heart monitor reached TJ's ears as he stirred. The bright overhead light stung his healthy eye, forcing him to adjust. Once his vision cleared, he was in a hospital room.
Bleach, antiseptic, and sweat hung in the air. In the background, nurses murmured, echoing their words.
TJ tried to sit up but gasped at the pain shooting throughout his body. A few minutes later, a woman wearing scrubs walked inside.
"Hello, Mr. Garrett," she said. "I'm Nurse Kiely here to check in with you."
She offered the ex-boxer a cup of water. TJ drank through a straw without hesitation, soothing his dry, scratchy throat.
"How are you?" she asked.
TJ finished his drinking before saying, "Like shit. What happened?"
"You don't remember?"
"My memory is fuzzy, but… I left a bar after drinking. Of course, I didn't score a hot date. I was heading back to my gym when an explosion happened, and my gym burned to a crisp."
Nurse Kiely nodded, jotting down a few notes on her clipboard. "You were the victim of an arson attack. You were lucky to survive."
TJ closed his right eye and sighed. He thought about all the hours he had spent in Combo Gym.
The nurse placed her hand on the man's shoulder for comfort and reached for the call button at his bedside table. "Let me get you some pain medication before I leave you alone for the night."
A few moments later, another nurse arrived with a syringe loaded with medicine. As she injected the medication into his arm, TJ drifted into a dreamless sleep, tainted only by distant images of fire and smoke.
During his stay at the hospital, the doctors became baffled because whenever they checked on his condition, they learned that he was recovering faster than an average person. The ex-boxer also found this baffling but thought little of it.
During his discharge, TJ bumped into a doctor on his way out.
"Hey, watch where you're going!" he said.
"Sorry, my bad!" the doctor said.
TJ shook his head while walking away. As he stepped out, he breathed in the cold night air. Inserting his hands into his pockets, he strolled into the city without direction. With his gym destroyed, there wasn't anywhere else he could crash.
After hours of wandering, TJ found a homeless shelter. Pride prevented him from entering such a place.
Just being surrounded by quitters didn't appeal to him.
What choice do I have?
He took a deep breath and walked into the facility.
To his surprise, the interior was neat and well-kept despite its intended purpose. The people inside were friendly and shared some food with TJ when they learned he hadn't eaten all day. TJ thanked them for their help and found a bed nearby.
Not comfy, but it'll suffice. Before settling in, a vibrating ring echoed near him. While glancing around, TJ saw a bulge in his hooded sweater pouch. He reached inside and pulled out a phone, which rang. What the hell? Where did this come from?
For a moment, TJ thought about letting the phone ring until it stopped, but curiosity overtook him.
He pressed the green button and placed it against his ear. "Hello?"
"Hello," the speaker replied with a Russian accent. "I'm looking for a TJ Combo."
Oh hell, what did I get myself into? "This is him."
"Ah, excellent. I was wondering if I could talk to you."
"Whatever you want from me, I want no part in it."
"Oh, relax, Mr. Combo. I'm not part of some mafia, cartel, or organized crime ring. You can hang up at any time. I ask you to listen and keep an open mind."
TJ sighed. "Okay, but make it quick."
"Excellent. Let me start by saying this. It may not have occurred to you, but people had their eyes on you. They are part of a group called the Disavowed."
"Disavowed? Are they a fan club or something?"
"Not exactly. The group consists of covert agents and operatives. Their primary goal is to destroy Ultratech at its roots."
"Destroy them? I thought the company shut down after the Killer Instinct tournament."
"The Stalker units that attacked you weeks ago suggest otherwise."
TJ furrowed his brows. "Stalker units?"
"Genetically-enhanced bioweapons created by the Baron. Even in the darkest forests and remote deserts, these creatures can track their prey with near-human intellect and velociraptor-like ferocity. When Ultratech switched ownership, they cyberized them to increase their efficiency."
"Huh. So, I guess these goddamned things that crapped on my doorstep didn't appear by pure luck."
"No. Ultratech put the Stalker units there with intent. For what reason, it's unknown."
"Well, whatever the reason, I taught them a thing or two. They'll think twice before messing with me again. You mentioned earlier that these Disavowed people kept an eye on me. What do they want?"
"Alright, Mr. Combo, I'll cut to the chase. We want you to join us."
"Join you guys? That's nice, but I'm not a covert agent or any of that sort. I'm a boxer. Well, ex-boxer." TJ muttered that last sentence.
"Yes, we understand. However, you've delved into the heart of Ultratech. There could be things you know that we don't, just as we know things you don't."
"Such as?"
"What if I say your former manager was in cahoots with Ultratech? They worked together to manipulate the stock price and pocket millions. You were the target – they set you up to fall."
"What?"
"Oh, yes. Ultratech has been playing you for some time. I could even explain how you recovered faster than normal."
"Well, as that guy from the movie Django said, 'You had my curiosity, but now you have my attention.' So spill it."
"When those surgeons inserted cybernetic implants in you, they modified your DNA. These changes gave you superhuman abilities, including healing. Even when those implants got removed, those abilities remained."
"Okay, when you said healing, you mean like Wolverine healing or Deadpool healing?"
"Not to that extent, but yes."
TJ leaned against the wall, processing the information. "Well, I'll be damned. I can't believe I didn't see this coming. Wait, what about this arson attack that destroyed my gym? Was Ultratech involved?"
"Yes," the speaker said. "When Ultratech cyberized the Stalker units, they implanted high-yield explosives. It allows them to destroy whatever evidence they had and potential witnesses. They did this to cover any activity they conducted or if a Stalker unit somehow got loose."
"Oh, my God. That damn brown one I killed, it caused the explosion. I had no idea."
"Don't blame yourself. Ultratech knows how to cover their tracks."
"No shit. I'm curious. Out of everyone in this city, why me?"
"It's your resilience that grabbed the attention of the Disavowed. Even when you switch between riches and rags, your spirit remains unbroken. You're the type of person that keeps fighting no matter what life throws at you."
"How do you know all of this? Who are you?"
"I am a messenger," the speaker said. "With our help, you can punish Ultratech and restore public favor. You could sit in that homeless shelter or become a part of something. It's your choice."
TJ was silent. To think that Ultratech had played him like a fiddle set a fire within him. Also, he lost everything, including his gym. Although he vowed never to become anyone's bitch again, this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. "Alright, I'm in."
A/N: Well, it looks like TJ got away with his life, but who will be the next victims on the Stalker units' list? It's time to let my brain rest, so I'll see you later.