The Colour Purple Chapter 12: Endless Chain, a king of fighters fanfic

The Colour Purple... The King of Fighters '95

This (chapter) fanfiction was originally written circa: [XX.96] (Thank you)

"Which Character are you?"

Everyone has watched movies; but not all really understand the meaning when a loved one dies. So many things you wanted to say. So many images you wanted to burn in your mind. We are all human.

If you love someone, then tell them so – proudly and fearlessly. Tell them "Sorry, but I just wanted to tell you, I love you." It need not be romantic, or even sappy." But do so – it won't make the pain of separation easier but it is a wonderful burden off your shoulders.

Even if they mock you; even if you mock yourself – do it.

I don't want any of my true friends to die again.

-10.16.04

Chapter 12: Endless Chain

section.01: Saishyuu heikii & Kare wa,

SWITCH ON

Easy come, easy go… once again he sees the world thru his eyes, from eyes interrupted with a chaotic buzz of static. Crazy black and white patterns on the TV screen that look so out of place, but constant. Everything he saw mimicked the TV, everything he understood and expected in life was based upon his experiences.

To him, the future will always be ruled by the prejudice of the past.

"Perfect!" Sergio roared. "Go! FINISH!"

In absolute horror, his opponent's shoulders weakened and none of his headshots connected with his target. The crowd favourite would lose the finals now.

Then, the music stopped. The raging sound of rock and roll suddenly calmed to a slow tempo of pianos.

"What.. What are YOU DOING?!" Sergio stammered from the observation booth.

The boy let his left hand go and held the gun only with his right hand. Without even looking at his target he calmly released his 6 final winning shots downrange blindly. Each shot ambivalent, yet indifferent at the same time. The audience murmured in awe.

The last 6 shots that was sure to sin the match for the challenger, had failed to hit the head.

The challenger lost the match. With his slide locked back, his gun was empty, and in the end, so was he.

…

Each event in our life we will remember forever, and will forever influence how we welcome the future.

Again the static came and the knob turned counterclockwise, clicking the TV off into a single silver horizontal line. Then darkness.

OFF

…

With a bellow of the steam horn, the transport ferry docked on a nameless island. The clang of chains eased down the drawbridge that exposed its insides. Without a thought, armed men dressed in dark coats and even darker shades surrounded the vessel, welcoming the cars that, one by one, drove down the single road leading from the dock to the sole mansion which marked the center of the island. Mercedes, Bentleys, and Rolls Royces paraded down the bridge, showing off their owners' wealth and power. One automobile caught everyone's attention though. It was a brutish pink Cadillac. Saving no room for etiquette or poise, the monster roared down the path and overtook the smug millionaires that slowly made their way down the road, leaving a dusty cloud in its wake. The armed Asian goons could only stare in both amazement, and disgust at the Cadillac's seemingly 'barbaric' behavior.

GUILTY

Behind the wheel slouched a cheerful middle-aged man dressed in white from head to toe. With a smirk he slid his open palm over his slick back hair, and pulled out two long clumps of hair and let the permed locks dangle in front of his face. Like the rest of the millionaires here he came to see Ching.

The time was right, and business was good as always. For the right price you could get the weapons you needed, from a virus to a missile.

"Eat dust, baby!" The driver waved boorishly, and all the cars behind him could see was the license plate 'RALF'.

...

The pink Cadillac drifted sideways on the abrupt turn and came to a halt by the main gate of Ching's splendid mansion sending clouds of dust in all directions, making the coat and tie security guard cough up.

Slinging his arm over his door, Ralf flashed his smile to the Chinese man who was staring down at him in disgust with his small terse eyes.

"Hey, friend..." Ralf sneered as he combed his hair with his palm. "You gonna let me in?"

The doorman unslinged the walkie-talkie from his back pouch and looked straight up at the gate camera which was linked to the main mansion.

"Hai Koko Gwai Lou ah! ((insult:) It's that foreigner.)"

With that, the sound of motors could be heard and the towering gates in front of Ralf rolled open. The doorman locked a wicked gaze at Ralf and swung his hand left and right signaling that it was okay for Ralf to pass.

"Heh heh, Thank you, baby!" Ralf sarcastically called as he made his car spin and let his engine roar off.

"Fucking Asians," Ralf cussed as soon as he was far enough away from the gate, on the way to the main complex. "Think they own the fucking world..."

...

SWITCH ON

STATIC

A Shuriken (Throwing star) came down and grazed Ralf's wrist. He let out a faint yelp and within seconds 3 Ninja had appeared from the shadows.

Ralf, young and cocky only smiled at the three Ninja who stood proudly at the wincing mongrel in front of them. It was supposed to be a simple mission. Get some papers and then get the hell out of the complex. Ralf thought it was boring so he decided to pick a fight, he knew the assassins were following him anyway.

He stood up slowly and smoothened his red and green bandanna and twisted his hair around his fingers.

"Fucking Asians, think you own the world?" Ralf said smugly at the Ninja leader.

"Oh, so the mongrel barks even when cornered?" The leader mocked.

"Your mother's a mongrel you ugly bastard!" Ralf jeered. "That's why you have those masks to cover those things you call faces."

The two Ninja behind the leader snarled menacingly and reached for their swords, but the leader stopped them with an outstretched hand. The two obediently withdrew and tried to pacify their tempers as best as they could.

"You foreigner slime... 'Mercenary' I think you call yourselves... this is all false pride. Proud and arrogant. English speaking, you come here alone thinking yourself superior. Now all you have left is your petty ego." The lead Ninja lectured.

"Well, at least I don't have to hide behind numbers like you, I can hold my own ground..." Ralf returned.

"No, you don't understand. What you mercenaries fail to comprehend..."

"Master, this Gaijin (outsider), has no honor, you are just wasting your breath..." One of his subordinates interrupted. The Ninja master calmly put his palm up and the Ninja fell silent.

"See," The master said to Ralf, "My subordinate follows my orders without question. It is not an issue of fear or obligation. It is of respect. This is something you selfish, bloodthirsty killers can never even begin to understand. We live in honor, under the code of discipline. To train our minds and bodies, killing is a necessary evil we do unlike you who do it for the sake of killing."

"All you do is hide under an empty slogan." Ralf yelled.

With this, five other Ninja appeared from the trees and brandished their swords.

"Come on... ALL OF YOU! Show yourselves." Ralf mocked, "You can't hide in the trees like squirrels!"

This was the last straw, and all the ten remaining Ninja came down with fires in their eyes. The master held his hand up again to calm the Ninja behind him and walked slowly towards Ralf.

"I am not a dog like your kind, mercenary." The master said as he held his sheathed sword out, inviting single combat.

The rest of the Ninja saw the signal and sheathed their swords. One of them called out "Master challenges you to single combat.", making sure this Gaijin knew what the gesture meant.

"You're a fool, Gaijin (outsider). Like the rest of your racist, overconfident kind. What do you hope to accomplish by blurting out these insults. All you are doing is getting my students anger..." The master stopped and stammered in shock, but it was too late.

"And you! Jappy..." Ralf snarled as he beat his fist in midair. "What you failed to realize is you are dealing with a mercenary."

Ralf held the radio which was slung over his head. He reached for the mike and pushed it next to his mouth. "Gabriel, Abigail..." Ralf muttered. "I need some divine intervention. NOW damn it, NOW."

With that command, a shower of bullets came from the hidden. The divine intervention from Ralf's guardian angels came and destroyed the group of ninjas that sat helplessly out in the open.

You… You unhonourable dogs.

{You're right, I am nothing like you...} Ralf thought to himself.

The Ninja did not scream or cry out in their deaths. All their lives was a journey for spiritual upliftment, and to die this way, to be cheated rather that n die cheating was a good was to die as any.

For that one brief moment, when the bodies collapsed like rag dolls to the snipers' fire, Ralf questioned his convictions. He had always thought mercenaries, like any other 'hired' killers were evil, a necessary evil in the business, in the world. He had never known or understood any other code. The Ninja master's words and actions made him think again. The body of the master fell limply in front of him.

Was he weak? Was that why he died?

Ralf kicked the lifeless body in front of him. Weak... that was the only reason he could muster. An empty slogan, a weak excuse to calm down a confused conscience.

The darkness had no sound to answer him except for the full-automatic bolts slamming shut, loading a fresh new magazine into the ruthlessly judging Springfield M14s.

Clark, voiceless as always walked past his comrade, leading the way, with Ralf behind, still – and not willing to move, and still he never received his answer.

STATIC

OFF

...

After some glasses of champagne, some small talk, and a number of Hour'Deurves, Ching, the weapon monger, trotted down his towering staircase to meet his guests in the dining room. Ching wasn't impressive at all. He was a short Chinese man, with a long, typical, sporadic mustache and a goatee. He had two European women slung in each of his arms, and had a fat cigar in his mouth. He too was dressed all in white, from his coat, tie, trousers, to his shoes. He smugly gazed over his numerous customers who paraded in his home like eager penguins, and shrugged a bit when he saw the sole man dressed in white.

Ching cussed in disgust but just straightened his outfit and smiled at his mindless bimbos. Taking two crackers topped with shrimp and cream in his palm and a glass of champagne, Ralf chugged them both down and wolfed the glass bottoms up as if they were crunchy painkillers.

"Nice jacket..." Ralf grinned. "Great accessories too..." while looking at the clueless female escorts.

I DON'T CARE

Ching ignored the arrogant wretch and raised both his arms up to make himself the center of attention.

"Gentlemen... Thank you all for coming to my humble island." Ching called. "Welcome... But before business let's have some lunch at the dining room. My servants will lead the way."

With that the penguins and the grinning polar bear were lead into a magnificent dining room. Like cattle they were herded in, almost in single file.

"Hey, move it slowpoke." Ralf immaturely sneered at a very annoyed man. "Move your ass, I'm hungry." Ralf cut in the line and the businessmen kept their distance as if the man had a contagious disease. Their heads slumped down into their shoulders in embarrassment and disgust.

The high ceiling and the grand chandelier made the room overwhelming and very impressive to say the least. Surely, Ralf thought,that on those walls, the towering ceiling, and the grand chandelier cost numerous lives, dirty money and death. If you could pile up the bodies it took to scour the money to build such a mansion, it would fill the palace twice over at the least. Like many things, it seemed beautiful from the outside, but within held secrets that are too horrible to realize.

...

"Dad... It's time to go home... You have to stop this, going out so late at night, mom gets worried." Ralf called as he shook his limp father.

"Nikolai... Where are you? Nikolai." Sergio, Ralf's father mumbled out.

Ralf was a college freshman, and the dreams of his father playing hero were over. Ralf knew the truth. Sergio wasn't some big shot secret agent, no James Bond, no one would make a movie or write stories about his adventures.

Sergio was a mercenary. Killing not for patriotism, glory or justice. It was all for money. Lives meant nothing to mercenaries anymore. Blood just meant points and points meant their paycheck. Whether they killed a drug dealer or a nun, it was all the same.

"Don't die you fuckers." Sergio continued to mumble. Ralf and his mother lived in constant agony and worry whenever Sergio never came home. To normal families it just meant that Dad was out on a night with the boys, but to Ralf the worry wasn't confined to getting lost or a bottle, it was the perverse overtime at work. Overtime that could mean a bullet in his brains or dying slowly in the gutter.

His hero, Ralf's perfect vision collapsed whenever he saw Sergio this way. HE had vowed never to become like his father. He couldn't bear the pain he would give his loved ones. There can be no room for emotion in a mercenary, but an individual devoid of emotion is impossible.

OFF

…

"I'm thirsty," came a wee voice next to Ching. It was Ching's son, Sai Weng. The 8 year old boy enjoyed mingling with the adults, and loved wearing his own coat and tie during these 'parties'.

Sai Weng lead the guests to their assigned seats from the door, and when Ralf came storming, cutting in line Ralf just patted Sai Weng on the head and made his way to the table.

Ralf sat on his seat and examined the setup in front of him. Fine silverware and porcelain plates. It was white, as white as the coat on his shoulders. Soon it would be sullied, and the world would come into motion. We can predict the future, but unfortunately we can't change its pre-destiny.

"Would you like some wine, sir?" a young lady asked Ralf. Ralf smiled and put his left palm open, high to stop her. "No, thank you…"

…

Ralf was a college freshman, and the dreams of his father playing hero were over. Ralf knew the truth.

…

"No, thank you. I don't drink alcohol, miss." Ralf answered.

The usual ten course, small portioned meal awaited the guests. Ralf looked to the left and the right. Around him were cool businessmen sipping away at their soup and munching slowly at the steaks that were bought with the blood of innocents. Ching trusted no one, and did not allow any of his customers to carry weapons nor have bodyguards. Even though the hypocrite businessmen around him were as helpless as babies, they remained cool and calm in their own world. This simple world devoid of fear, because that was the only life they were accustomed to. They thought it was that way for everyone. The world would change, the rules would change very soon. Because HE was right, and there was no salvation for him, and thus, no salvation for anyone else.

However, their smiles couldn't hide the greed and ambition in their eyes. Sai Weng was probably the only individual who was enjoying the dinner. Amongst the hypocrite mingling and plastic smiles, Sai Weng immersed himself in this grown up activity. Ralf wondered how he would react when he learned the truth when he grew up. Would he change as well like these other fools? And what of Ralf? Were his reasons of his being here pure, or were they selfish as well?

Ralf enjoyed the soup, it was mushroom. He didn't bother with a spoon, why would he? He just slurped it down from the bowl's rim straight. The maids sent each dish after each other and Ralf liked the rare steak most of all. He got his fork and rammed it into the hunk and bit off a chunk without even thinking.

"Mr. Ralf," Ching said in a sarcastic tone. "There are steak knives you know..." Sai Weng laughed innocently at Ralf who was making obnoxious faces at Ching when he wasn't looking.

The other guests merely refused to look at Ralf and proceeded to eat as if he didn't exist. When desert came, it was down to business. Ching snapped his fingers and one of his many maids brought in a briefcase with a small test tube inside.

SAISHYUU HEIKII

"Gentlemen," Ching announced. "We all know why we came here... It is for this!"

Ralf stopped eating and glared at the briefcase intently. This, Ching mentioned was the new 'weapon' that was so hyped. It wasn't a missile, or a bomb, it was a drug. It wasn't a harmful drug at all. In fact it was supposedly a cure. Long ago in the time of world war. There were numerous researches altering drugs which would enhance a soldier's fighting ability, but all the development came up with were mind controlling drugs, and viruses. The killers in development were so intent in making the ultimate weapon, silent and merciless, that they never bothered to find cures.

A savage drug. An ultimate weapon, granting a man godly power, and drove those inadequate into fits of madness then inevitable death. A man was never meant to have hands of God.

The cure was what Ching had in his hands.

However, there were no humanitarians in that room. Ralf knew the purpose of the cure. How typical of human greed. None of the bidders in that room wanted to share the cure, what they wanted was power. For if one nation had a cure for mind altering drugs, they would be free to use the drug on any enemy without fear of retaliation. It is such an irony on how man can easily pervert things meant for the good.

In the wrong person's hands this test tube could make dreams, wealth, or even petty ambitions like terrorism come true.

"So what's in it for you, mister mister?" The blonde waiter next to Ralf asked.

"It is for a friend..." Ralf muttered half heartedly.

…

Nikolai put his hand on Sergio's shaking shoulder to calm his friend. "Let it go, Sergio." He said. "Ralf's not you."

Sergio hunched silent in utter disappointment. He had no words to say, his heart broken and limp in his chest.

"You cannot expect your son, to atone for your sins. He will never be the man you, the man, we, always wanted to be, my friend."

"Match SET! Winner ANDRES!" The announcer roared on the loudspeaker. There was silence, then followed the uncertain and timid applause.

"So what's in it for you, mister mister?" The blonde waiter next to Ralf asked.

"I have a friend, and it's the only way he can die..." Ralf muttered half heartedly.

The world is so perfect from far away. There was once upon a time, a man. He wished – but his life never could be the way he wanted it [to].

I don't want my friends to be sad.

-10.16.04

section.02: The Rules of Engagement

"No.. this can't be happening," a teenage Ralf roared in his mind.. his gun was empty in his hands and all he could do was stare at that, his own trembling hand, as his enemy proceeded to increase the pressure on his vice grip on Ralf's cranium. The invading thumb already driving itself hungrily into his forehead, crushing bone and crushing his grey matter.

The visions in front of his began to turn blurry and the ghosts started to spiral out of focus. Was this the end? He hated the feeling. In the end he couldn't avenge the man he hated the most.

He looked upon his adversary, a couth looking middle aged man, with twisting, pulsating biceps of steel slowly squeezing the life out of him. Rugal twisted Ralf's head to the side, his thumb slowly making its way to his right eye.

NO, THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING… Somebody.. anybody – SAVE ME.

The final thing Ralf saw burned itself in his mind. It was a young boy, maybe 16 or 18, his age; rushing valiantly towards him. Blonde hair head in with a navy blue army cap, in combat gear. The young boy's hands were tense and open, fingers extended and running in slow motion towards him and his [enemy]. He had no expression in his face. But it was a sweet face he would remember until..

Darkness.

OFF

…

Ralf pulled his clean, white sleeve to the side, exposing his beloved Omega Speedmaster Professional Moon watch. Scratched and beaten from the cruelty of life, despite that it kept on moving. With a single purpose it drove itself for what it was created for.

…

If you [love] someone; do not you [HATE] them too?

STATIC, the steady calming hum that put me to sleep as a child. The chaotic murmur that matched the waves of my brain. In the chaos, the clockwork scratchy noise that molded my mind. Darkness with the warm glow.

I reached for the cheap mechanical knob on the black and white television. Slowly turning it clockwise to increase the volume. It was so painful yet so reassuring. It put my mind in s familiar constant chaos.

A red plastic box that told me sweet stories.

"My father is the best there is." Ralf said to his grade school classmates. "He is a secret agent. Cool huh? He shoots bad guys and is a hero."

In war when you kill someone, you're a hero... But in the peaceful world, it doesn't work that way. Criminal or executioner, you're all murderers.

…

"BUT... Gentlemen," Ching continued, "We seem to have a snake in the grass in our midst. Isn't that right Mr. Lucifer?" Ching coaxed evilly as he pointed to Ralf.

With those words, an orchestra of steel bolts locking into play. Armed guards came storming into the dining room, ready to blow the white suited Ralf to kingdom come.

"Mr. Ralf, you must be a fool to think someone like me was unaware of the plots of a petty mercenary like yourself. Your employer doesn't want to bid? Then I will send back your body as a 'sorry' card. Such stupid faith you foreigners have. You come to my home, thinking me an ignorant slob, come in unarmed no less, and think you can take this prize away without a fight? Ho ho..."

Ralf stood up and threw his chair back. The furniture skipped behind him.

EVERYBODY IS [FREE]. FREE, to feel good.

Ralf, ever so ready to storm his way out he put his hands in a defensive stance, hovering in front of his face.

EVERYBODY'S [FREE].

Just like Ralf, thinking nothing of the pistols and machine guns that were pointed at him. "A natural killing ability." That was what Nikolai said to Sergio. "In the end, that was the only thing that made us stand out, what made us have purpose in the life. No one will ever understand us."

"He is not like you, my friend."

Cursing his mortality, as he had then, during THAT time, Ralf put his firsts in front of him. Those powerful fists, he knew was the only thing that can destroy this god.

…

TO LIVE, then TO DIE…

…

"To live and to die..." Ralf smiled as he tensed his forearms, waiting, waiting for something, anything to happen that would make the situation tip to his advantage.

"Tsk tsk," Ching said as he rocked his head. "You don't seem to understand. You are already dead. The soup was poisoned..."

"What the..." Ralf muttered. Ralf's arm started to jerk before it fell limp by his side. Fighting the feeling of numbness in his body, he tried to keep himself from wobbling and hoisted himself on the chair next to him. The five armed guards laughed to themselves and three of them even came close to Ralf to further make fun of him.

"The moment you came in those doors, the poisoned food was waiting for you..." Ching gloated.

"HHHUGHK!" Came a grunt from a man sitting next to Ralf and abruptly fell into his plate of cake.

"What the HELL?!" Ching gasped.

"Just kidding," Ralf smiled to the three armed men. Ralf lunged forward, his hand taught, and the chop went directly INTO his opponent's neck. The goon in front of him gasped and spat blood. Ralf kicked the goon's bloody body away from him and exposed the steak knife he never used. Two guards were at opposite sides of the room, still unaware of what was happening, and two were left near Ralf. One was behind him and the other to his side. Ralf dug into his jacket pocket and exposed a champagne glass which he had kept earlier. With that in his palm, he slapped the goon next to him, shattering the glass and embedding shards in his face.

The goon screamed in pain, but Ralf put an end to it with a steak knife to his throat. The one behind Ralf had a long machine gun. With that false confidence the goon released the safety and aimed. Ralf tensed his legs and leapt, not away, but just the opposite, he jumped towards his opponent. The odds were tipped against the goon now, since he had no available room to steer his barrel to shoot Ralf.

Ralf smiled.

He cocked his hand back slowly finally ending in a tense, cocking stop, and in a blur, his fist became a bullet and embedded itself deep into the goon's chest, breaking ribs like they were made of Styrofoam. Ralf's trained ears heard a click below him and he spun around to see the first goon he had stabbed still moving and aiming for his chest. Ralf grabbed a stunned businessman behind him as a human shield, and reached for some forks and knives from the table. With those in hand, he clipped a knife between his fingers and threw one across the table, jamming it in a customer's forehead. He threw his human shield towards the goon who was still shooting him and at the same time stabbed another clueless businessman repeatedly with a fork.

Ralf rolled and finished off the pinned gunman who shot at the human shield by sending two fingers in his eyes.

"Guard the door!" Ching yelled. "Don't let him escape."

One of the remaining two gunmen shot out random fire at Ralf but hit three stray victims as Ralf rolled across the table. Ralf grabbed a machine gun barrel from his roll, redirected it, and kept the attackers at bay with rabid gunshots. The guard by the door took careful aim and snickered as he caught Ralf in his crosshairs.

"Gwai loh, I got you."

A waiter next to him tapped him on the shoulder offering him a drink.

The gunman looked to the side but only saw an open palm racing towards his field of view, smashing his nose and sending it up into his brain.

"Clark!" Ralf called. "A waiter this time? You're just full of surprises!" Ralf stood up from his roll and continued running around, killing a dozen more victims with the wild automatic rifle he controlled, the goon still holding onto it defiantly.

"Didn't recognize you..." Ralf sneered. His virgin white suit now tainted with splashes of beautiful crimson . The true colors of a mercenary's soul.

COLOUR

"HEY!" Clark chuckled smugly as he straightened his shades and loosened his bowtie. "Hey, come on…" he called as he always did. Swung his fist to the side and rammed an expensive pair of shades into an enemy's eyes. "Come on baby!"

Five new gunmen came in from the main door. One got clipped by Clark's wide and savage haymaker as he showed his ugly face. The bullet hook punch came and went mercilessly making the goon's brains splatter across the floor.

The second gunman rolled and hit Clark by the leg, letting the remaining three through. The three rushed towards Ralf. Clark was pinned down by the door. Ching was still breathing and his son Sai Weng was clutching on to his father's leg. The customers were dropping like flies and now only five of them were left. Ralf pointed his gun but cursed himself when he heard the empty clicks.

There was a spark and the chandelier came falling down thanks to Clark's precise bullet. The fixture got rid of the five remaining businessmen and one of the three attacking Ralf. The lights were out for a moment so this was their chance. Clark leapt up despite the pain in his leg and grabbed the blinded goon by the waist. With a roar he wrapped his arms around and twisted the goon around, smashing the goon's back on his leg. A perfect backbreaker Clark thought as he heard the sweet melodic crack of bones.

DEFEAT - GAIN.

Before the lights went out, Ralf etched the positions of the two remaining goons in front of him in his mind. He went for the closest one. Ralf rushed, with his left punch leading the way, he broke ribs, in one motion he spun around and delivered a backhand to the goon's cheek, deforming a mass of it. Before the goon could even fall over to the side, Ralf completed the move with an upper and shattered his jaw. The last gunman's eyes focused on Ralf, and random fire bit into Ralf's side. Ralf grimaced in pain and instinctively rolled under the table.

The painful rush that engulfed his senses was not unfamiliar to him, it was a reminder that he was still alive. But, if he was still alive, he could fight again…

SUDDEN PURPOSED ROAR. With his back to the ground, he kicked upwards and tipped the table over, giving him a barrier for the last rounds of bullets.

…

Ching held his position at the back of the room, and he let his men do his dirty work. It was not looking good for him. Two men so easily storming his palace. He was GOD here there was no way he would let an outsider take him.

"DAMN IT!" Ching roared behind him. As an answer a 7 foot golem approached him from behind.

…

"RALF!" Clark shouted from across to the room towards his comrade who took refuge behind his makeshift redwood barrier. "Move, NOW!"

Ralf's eyes darted open, a sudden frantic emotion rushed through his body.

It was never often he heard that blonde man speak in such a sudden panicked tone.

Without question, he couldn't help but reply to the sudden shock of by planting both feet to the ground. The sudden surge of pain ran up his thigh and up his midsection from his injuries. The sudden urgency rushed through him, and Ralf propelled his body. The wounds in his legs exploded in spurts of crimson but he pushed it to the limit anyways. Ralf heaved himself to the left, away from his fortress.

As if on queue, the redwood barrier exploded into pieces as one of Ching's goons dove into his space as if propelled like a missile.

The dust settled, leaving a devoured Chinese man impaled into what was left of the table. Ralf couldn't comprehend what had happened, until he looked towards Ching. In front of him was a burly, slit eyed behemoth of a man with a blank expression on his wide face.

The remaining goons that surrounded the pair of heroes mumbled in fear and slowly put their muzzles down, quite unsure of what to make of the situation, but all of them slowly backed away from the ogre, and their master, Ching, for fear that they too would suffer the same disposable fate of their brother.

A shrill cackle of laughter enveloped the room as the once shivering Ching emerged from his cubby, next to this new protector. Ching mumbled a rash of terse phrases in Cantonese and pointed at Ralf. "You're DEAD GWAI LOH! YOU'RE DEAD!" Ching proclaimed index finger extended in triumph.

The monster broke into action, a low growl escaped his lips as he rushed fearlessly directly into Ralf. Saving no room for finesse, his long, thick arms flew behind him like streamers… The slits of his eyes opened just a moment, exposing his bloodshot pinhole eyes, then his left paw swung forward, throwing his undersized suit tail fly up. It was enough leverage to swing his right fist up and send it hammering down at Ralf.

Clark stood open mouthed for only an instant, words could not escape his mouth, but he did as he always had… he ran.. He ran as fast as he could towards Ralf, and let destiny decide what would happen next.

It wasn't enough time, and he had only taken a few steps before he was forced to shield his face from the sudden maximum impact of that grotesque downward right hammer.

…

"You're dead, mercenary!" Ching cackled, fists trembling with glee. The shattered furniture propelling itself in all directions. The suited goons around them covered their faces and instinctively backed away as far as they could from the brutal melee.

…

The golem hunched back to a stand, slowly lifting his bloody fists from the debris. His eyes once again in a blank slit. It slowly scanned the area as the dust settled.

"TOO SLOW, ya FUCKIN CHINK!"

Clark couldn't help but ease his shoulders when he heard Ralf taunt as peppy as he knew. Ralf drifted in midair, dodging the blow just in time. In his hands was his pistol ready to go to work.

"DIE! Mutant!" Ralf proclaimed as he launched the first bullet into the monster's center of mass. Ralf broke off from his slow motion flight and rolled once just to the side of his enemy and let loose 5 more shots into the chest. The pistol still in battery, with one shot left in the chamber, he pressed the mag release. The empty magazine dropped down to Earth, but another was more than ready to take his place.

With no pause to the beat and tempo Ralf proceeded to unload the remaining 8 shots into the golem, ending with a torrid clack of steel as his pistol's slide locked back, signifying an empty weapon.

Ralf stood from his kneeling position and only grinned as the giant roared in pain, slinging its head back before toppling to the ground from the shock.

Ralf leaned on his one good leg and examined his handy work. A monster toppled beneath his feet. He took a moment to catch his breath and laugh a bit. He let his laugh radiate throughout the room, proclaiming his greatness as the goons around him refused to make any move.

Ralf gripped his unbalanced, empty pistol in his right hand and leaned forward over the dead beast. Lips puckered in a sneer mock, he laughed.

"STAY!" Ralf blurted condescendingly at the unmoving husk. Pistol's muzzle pointed down at the floor, THUMBS DOWN, Ralf loosened his grip on the handle and extended his middle finger downwards with the same gripping hand. Ralf looked to the side and put his palm to his forehead in a slow, silent, mocking laughter. He then threw his left hand to the side as if he was slapping the grime from his pretty hands.

Ralf walked calmly towards Ching.

…

Clark's relaxed demeanour suddenly broke. Ralf noticed it and stopped in his tracks. There was a low growl, and once again Clark, visibly agitated, hunched over ready to leap at any given moment.

Ralf slowly turned towards the dead body behind him. Shock replaced confidence as the low growl got louder, and the golem slowly hunched to the stand, its heavy arms heaving its body up.

GOD DAMN…, Ralf's silent and perplexed mouth formed. In a moment, his enemy, once again blank faced lumbered to a complete stand, enveloping Ralf in shadows as its towering form blocked the light.

GOD DAMN. Ralf's mouth stammered. His bullets had failed him at such a close range, and his brain just couldn't process the information quick enough – it couldn't tell him that a megaton fist was propelling itself towards his head.

"URAGH!" came a groan from the darkness in front of Ralf. A sudden impact once again that made the air within the palace shift. Ralf instinctively put both forearms up to protect his face. A sudden thunder enveloped his being, with teeth grit, and diaphragm tense, he was ready to take the blow.

Ralf opened his eyes, and in front of him was Clark, arms crossed fearlessly he had put himself in front to shield his partner.

{CLARK… You…}

Clark was propelled to the side by the blow, tumbling to take the blow as he had been trained. Broken pieces of debris painfully softening his hard fall.

"DAMN IT!" Ralf roared defiantly, and on instinct, his left hand went for his waistband to replenish his pistol. To his shock, he only felt cloth – he was out of magazines.

The ogre slowly eased itself from its swing and lumbered once again to a stand, unmoving, just watching Ralf and his next move. It coughed once then twice in agony, then put its clawed hand onto its midsection and side. The orchestra of failed, deformed lead fell with a pitter pat onto the marble floor.

There were slow gasps, then it calmed itself once all the bullets once inside its body dropped harmlessly onto the ground. It looked up, mocking Ralf with its indifferent stare.

Ralf tensed the grip on his right hand. His arm trembled from frustration, and finally he threw his pistol to the ground.

"FUCK!" Ralf cussed defiantly, followed by the orchestra of callous murmurs and Ching laughter around him.

Ralf's vision looked to the side at Clark's unmoving body.

Ralf put his arms and clawed to his side in anger. His hungry trembling hands lost in an emotion of anger, confusion and fear. He tensed his teeth, and the fangs bit into his lip.

Ralf hunched his head down and clawed his forehead in his left hand. Clawing into his bandanna wrapped forehead… "Damn it."

…

Ralf hunched his head down and clawed his forehead in his left hand. Clawing into his bandanna wrapped forehead. The tension wanted to rip itself into his mind. His brain just couldn't understand what was happening.

How could he fail? How could flesh be stronger than steel?

Then he remembered. He remembered it intently… That moment when he realized what he had to do – what he had to do to take it to the limit.

Ralf left palm covering his eyes, he let out a spastic grunt, then two. A slow song of giggles. His shoulders were relaxed again. Ralf pushed his forehead up with his fingertips and breathed in a slow calm gasp. Then he let it out slowly and easily.

His thumb and index finger pinched the bridge of his nose. Ralf's fanged teeth grinned coyly. He looked up with a bright smile, his eyes moist but without tears. Left palm extended in invitation.

"Ha ha…" Ralf let out slowly with a beautiful open mouth smile. "You're SO going to die." Ralf giggled.

YOU ARE NOT [GOD] – that, I know.

Ralf loosened his collar and threw his white suit to the side. Paying no attention to the myriad of automatic weapons pointed at him, he slowly walked towards the behemoth in slow, wide, almost comedic steps.

When he was two feet from the towering giant that enveloped him in a dark eclipse, he hunched his head forward mockingly and opened his left palm skyward next to him, fingers open wide.

"You look like Bolo Yeung, buddy. I guess… that makes me Mr. Lee." : D Ralf slant eyed coo mocked.

There was no action from his enemy.

"One hit… one hit…" Ralf said slooowly, his left and right index fingers tottling up and down side by side. "I don't have TIME to play ... with you, Bolo…"

Smile.

"You hit me once, then, I hit you once. Then you hit me, then I hit you… Understand?" he cooed. "First one to DIE, loses."

"You hurt my friend; You're goin'ta die, Chinaman."

There's no need to explain; when we experience the most perfect moment.

…we have made a sacrifice, or maybe it was delusion, what we give up because we think it was [right] – because it was better than living an aimless existence, or maybe, it's true.

It is the way we delude ourselves in this existence. [We], as people find ZEN in everyday. Some find peace in cooking, some in creating art. There are others who make due with devotion to religion. Then there are those who simply want to live to see tomorrow. There is poetry and epiphany in all that – then there are those who give meaning to their lives by taking risks. With making bullets they fire, and cleaning their own weapons.

To surpass themselves and humanity in its most carnal way.

[HERE]; There is neither reason to reach for philosophy – nor the strive for scholarly enlightenment. When the world ends for them, whether they leap across a canyon or throw their last punch. Logic does not exist [here].

Gambling his heart and pride with his hands…

…maybe it's true - that he had found the [answer]?

…and in this way, we live extraordinary lives, amidst extraordinary [days].

-12.16.04

section.03: The [White] Devil

These rules are simple. When your heart shatters, you will be strong.

You must be responsible for your maturity. You must be responsible for every heart you break – and in the very end, for every life you take.

…

There was no action from his enemy.

"One hit… one hit…" Ralf said slooowly, his left and right index fingers tottling up and down side by side. "I don't have TIME to play ... with you, Bolo…"

Smile.

"You hit me once," Ralf's left index finger crept up, "…then, I hit you once. Then you hit me, then I hit you… Understand?" he cooed. "First one to DIE, loses." With a wide toothed grin.

Ralf breathed in calmly and placed his open left palm over his stomach. He let it stay there and breathed in, slowly. He closed his eyes faithfully, fearlessly – and numbed his mind until blank thoughts clouded his mind. There was nothing.

Breathe in.

Hold.

Breathe out.

Open your own eyes.

Ralf did. He opened his eyes and steadily walked his vision from the monster's ankles slowly to his opponent's face to meet an equally blank, slit eyed gaze.

Breathe out…

Ralf put both hands in his pockets and leaned back. He tensed his spine straight and true, interlocking each of his vertebrae, before… Before he relaxed each one and unlocked each link, one by one, each link easing and dislodging itself from reassurance and fear, putting himself in a sure, but relaxed hunch.

He didn't break eye contact, then he spoke again.

"ONE PUNCH. Give me all you got."

"DON'T LISTEN TO HIM!" Ching roared from across the bloody room. "It's a trick! The round eye is no match for you! KILL HIM!"

The rambling and curses went on from all around, but there was no action.

Without warning the golem launched his fist downward to the side of Ralf's cheek. Wind disemboweling space, ready to cut the world into two… Judgment came down to Ralf. Ralf said nothing.

"DIE!" Ching screamed.

The giant didn't make a sound. The fist continued in its deadly path towards Ralf's temple ready and willing to split his opponent's skull open.

{Pei ngo tai ha…}

Ralf's mouth moved ever so silently, there was no sound again, and the end came mercilessly. Ralf's lips mouthed different words, but there was only one sentence [they] could hear.

{[Pei ngo tai haa…]}

Ching's mouth gawked open and this, the inevitable destruction. However, instead, [his] giant fist stopped merely an inch from Ralf's temple. The weapon of destruction floated there for a while, and to everyone's surprise, Ralf's hands were still calmly in his pockets, he was only eager to take the blow with no defense.

{Let me…}

AND WHAT FAITH. From his hunched meditation Ralf opened his relaxed gaze and looked up to this opponent. The arrogance had left his visage and he only looked at the giant with newfound respect. He didn't want to smile.

He didn't smile anyways, but he didn't break his blank look. His hands stayed their place, unmoving and trusting. A 20 pound fist hovered still next to his brain.

MAYBE IT'S TRUE.

You may be a [monster], but maybe… maybe [men] like you still exist in this world… Ralf sighed with no sound. Amidst all these dolls;

I AM SO HAPPY, so very happy TO FIGHT YOU

The fist hovered back to the monster's side, unmoving, the cackling laughter and arrogant curses slowly hummed to silence. In the end it was just the goliath and Ralf. In a world all to their own.

No warning. The fist cocked back yet again with unbelievable speed, and with a thundering blow sent the ball of retribution into the [White] devil's midsection. Each tendon and sinew crackling in shock, there was only ONE answer that Ralf received. This was 20 pounds into his diaphragm.

"HOU YEAH AH! (Oh YEAH!)" came a scream from the crowd. Minimum comprehension. He golem's roaring brethren called out with tense fists flailing in the air and his destructive fist connected. Cheer, screams and insults of pride soared. Fists in the air. Yes. Show him who's more powerful!

Yet [he] would hear nothing of it – the fist continued in its path each tendon tensed to the limit. SHOW YOU.

Ralf hunched over, willing, but unable to comprehend the instantaneous thunder that ripped through his entire being. It was almost as if a sledgehammer was flung mercilessly into his chest.

Ralf's pupils shrunk, and in an instant he was

DRIVEN

backwards. Every muscle in his body defiantly tried to keep his stature upright, and despite the fact that his feet were planted to the ground, and yet, he was skidding backwards.

No… NO! Ralf's calves and heart screamed in defiance. All that unadulterated passion touching every bit of his flesh – it wanted to disengage every molecule in his body by sheer rage of shock alone. Ralf skidded back, tearing into the ground, trying at his utmost to stay conscious.

What will happen next?

Will tomorrow be grand?

What will I feel when the end is near?

It didn't seem to matter. The pain and fear in his stomach left him.

Ralf skidded and very inch he took, the less he cared of the future.

In the end, it was meaningless, Ralf's right toes tensed and pointed to heaven; in a moment his right foot was floating above the ground, and it had given up its hold onto the earth. Ralf's toes, then feet, and his knees were flying backwards in the air, one with pure white doves soaring upwards. Ralf was in the air, and bit-by-bit his consciousness was fading him.

"I can't…" Ralf uttered, "What's happening."

It's so clear, the crimson gaze that enveloped Ralf's vision slowly turned to white… "It hurts so much…" He mumbled, but never daring to speak those words out loud. With that one thought, his left foot began to rise and now, Ralf's entire body fell into a peaceful white.

Narcoleptic sensation. "You've lost so soon, son?"

…

"You've lost so soon, son?" - "Sai Louh, shyuu zoh gah?" Those damn Chink words ripped into his mind. Even if I turn over the Chinese flag, it would be meaningless if we lost.

[Raison D'etre], [my purpose of being]

…and in this way, I will justify my existence.

I will always love you. Even when clouded by rage, I will always love you. Because, isn't it true, that they go hand in hand?

…

"He's got natural skill." Nikolai said, arms crossed beside his comrade. "Your son's amazing – better than you, Sergio."

"No.. this can't be happening," a teenage Ralf roared in his mind.. his gun was empty in his hands and all he could do was stare at his trembling hand, as his enemy proceeded to increase the pressure on his vice grip on Ralf's cranium. The invading thumb already driving itself hungrily into his forehead, crushing bone and crushing his grey matter.

"Pa..PAPA! help me.."

AS A MOCKERY TO MAN, God gave Adam life, a life only to be filled with suffering. A father wishing greatness to the sons he selfishly created in his image, to carry his dreams, and suffer in his stead.

The slim statured commander put his left hand on his beret, and with his right pointed forward. Without another word the blond haired teeneager ran forward – maybe because he had nothing to lose…"Save him. Risk your life for your brother." - and then you will know the true power of the [innocent boy].

…

Ralf's eyes relaxed shut, oh so sweet, the pain left his body and he was more than welcoming the peace…

…

"You cannot expect your son, to atone for your sins. He will never be the man you, the man, we, always wanted to be, my friend."

…

No…

…

NO! DEFY YOU!

Ralf's eyes darted open – as if a call to Jesus and [God] above, Ralf's entire body tensed. First to from his strong [heart], then to his stomach, his thighs, then to his feet. His feet that he drove to the ground, skidding and tearing into the hard unforgiving floor beneath him. Ralf didn't not never let his hold onto the earth free so soon.

Ralf waved his arms up to counter the energy thrust upon him by the Chinese behemoth, heavenly peace and serenity was replaced by mortal pain and agony – Ralf twisted his upper body in a circular motion tying defiantly to create a counter centrifugal motion to stop his flight.

Through his boots, his right toes clawed into the ground, he [believed] he could. - and from your own meager heart, if you can believe, then it [WILL] be so.

Ralf swung his left leg around and thrust it behind his body as a ballast to stop himself from collapsing. He stopped abruptly and Ralf felt his left leg lock then tense – his knees locking painfully, sending a lighting bolt through his being - giving in from the impact and weakening.

His left leg buckled from the damage but Ralf had come to a full stop. The dust and debris enveloped his body. His shoulders and hips trembling from the shock. Ralf's heart beat ever so much faster to drive all the blood throughout his body to jolt him awake from his unconsciousness.

The world is stopped.

Ralf's arms at his side, and his legs were shoulder length apart. He was standing straight and upright, he had defied the will of nature. Newton had no place here; here – where burning hearts were still [true].

…

Calm slow breathing – it was good while it lasted. He thought. The white slowly leveled to grey hues and again black and white. The colour came to his eyes.

The white devil threw his right hand to his knees to steady himself, maybe with enough time, he breathed deep and devoured each breath of air he could – maybe he could maintain it.

His pupils dilated from violent to slow. The world came into focus. One more time he looked up and Ralf gazed upon his welcoming, amazing opponent.

BREATHE IN

BREATHE OUT

"Damn." Ralf grunted. "Damn that was good."

Ralf slung his left hand over his right shoulder and even if it was not possibly so he made himself believe he could heave himself up to a stance as not to dishonour his enemy. "Heh" He grinned. "Damn."

Ralf arced his chin up and grinned. "Damn…"

That was good.

[I could've almost seen heaven.]

…

The men around him abruptly ceased in their cheers. With wide open mouths they merely gawked as Ralf stumbled to a sure stand. Their hollers eased and wild fists calmed.

As an answer Ralf's left hand tensed into a fist and trembled by his hips. The future is waiting for me. I can't give up now. It's you or me. The left armed clawed brace thundered upwards and across his body. Ralf's right knee trembled at the uncertainty – he threw his weight backwards until the limit to where he would topple over and they sung to his defiance.

My turn.

The anchor released free and Ralf swung his left foot forward, ripping right into the bloody ground; he called it his own.

Oh how the ladies and the angels sang. At that last moment, the fist hovered above his head, perfectly balancing Ralf in a one-foot stance. Before he would topple backwards, he knew what to do.

GALACTIC

Intergalactic – planetary…

Before throwing his left shoulder forward, Ralf curled his entire upper body in a tight corkscrew and was ready to release it in a moment. Before he would fall over from tension Ralf unleashed his coils around and let it all out.

Right hand sailing over his head fearlessly; this was his answer – this was his answer to the beautiful wide world that would put him down. The sonic boom echoed throughout the complex and in a moment he was gone from sight.

Where Ralf once stood there was nothing, only emptiness mourned his wake – there was no one there, a soft swirl of smoke and ebbing fire floated where Ralf once was. And in the next instant Ralf appeared 3 feet from his opponent. His entire body curled in a lifelong thesis.

GALACTIC PHANTOM

To you.

All the muscles in the man's body willed itself loose then tense in an instant. Propelling every bit of mass towards the golem. Galactic Phantom, a four knuckled answer roared home into the monster's soft midsection.

Flesh met flesh, a thundering sound. Into his enemy's diaphragm Ralf let every bit of himself do the talking. Four wild beasts roared mercilessly and ravaged his insides. Galactic Phantom, an unblockable attack ripped into the monster.

The golem couldn't fight the instinct, his open left palm flew upwards in shock, instinctively covering his face. It was too late Ralf's right fist had embedded itself as deep as it would go into his opponent.

Both of the ogre's hands were up in a mock surrender. Ralf was balancing on his sole foot, ready to topple over, relying on the mass in front of him to keep himself upright.

Ralf didn't dare face his enemy. His eyes were taught.

The monster still stared forward not fully comprehending the last 5 seconds of action.

Ralf looked.

The monster gazed to the distance.

Ralf.

Monster.

The rock hard stomach drifted an inch from the knuckles, and the rules of engagement continued… Then was broken. As quick as it came then it had departed, the space between Ralf's knuckles and the belly of the beast erupted into an explosive flame. The flame became a long trail marking the path of the beast. The world shook then stopped, Ralf's enemy's vision went dark in an instant.

The monster skidded 4 feet backwards, back arched as far as it would go before toppling. One moment [he] was standing then in the next his mouth tried to curl open to breathe in air to fight the pain, but when he did so his lungs refused to extract oxygen from the air – then he knew it was over. The pressure clamped on his temples like a vise grip, then all rational thought was gone.

Those legs, as large as tree trunks started to wobble and the fortress fell without a second thought. One last, yet failed gasp for air cut the silence and the fortress fell with a thundering call.

…

Ralf's right hand hovered center where it had last connected with the beast, he coughed lightly before retracting it slowly towards his belly to keep from his own insides from exploding from the stress. Ralf hunched and made his way to his toppled opponent. He looked downwards at the lifeless hulk that decorated the marble floor beneath him, and he sighed. His own lungs finally accepted the air he breathed into his body – his heart beat at a steady pace.

The mercenary's left hand replaced his right on his diaphragm to steady his breathing as he looked upon the sight. Ralf couldn't help but grin a wide toothed smile, and he shelved his right hand on his forehead. He let it there for a moment, then twirled it palm outward in an arc, skyward. A snobbish salute that mimicked a goodbye, he swatted the heavy emotion that was brooding above his head with the backhand of his coy salute.

"You lose, 'China'." He probably grunted before he let off a heavy breath when he knew his lungs were functioning again.

Both palms were again at Ralf's hunched knees as he forced himself upright. As he rose from pain, his arrogant smile made the rest of the goons tense.

Clark pulled himself likewise from the debris and chuckled. With his newfound energy he shook his right hand – thumbs up. "Yeah." Clark wheezed.

Ralf turned sidewards in reply to his friend, then loomed back at Ching as he completed his rise up. The speechless Chinaman, Ching bit his lip but said nothing. Ralf's smile declared his victory, and to further emphasize, Ralf launched his right middle finger forward to him.

Ralf took two breaths then stopped. It needed no translation, guns and power couldn't defeat Ralf and his arrogance. Maybe he was right, then? It needed no translation, Ralf arced his spine back and threw his middle finger hellbound in a makeshift 'thumbs down'.

"DTIU LEI!" Ralf cussed with his white tongue.

FUCK – YOU

…

When the odds are against you – cut down your enemy and bring him down to your pace. It is a risky, yet, not certainly a cowardly course of action indeed.

Ralf's mourh shaped the words but the monster didn't hear any thing – what he heard was "Pei ngo tai haa…"

"SHOW ME. SHOW ME YOUR POWER."

Ralf spoke again Hou Lang Hai Zhen…

{Maybe, Maybe it's true…}

…

Ralf arced his spine back and threw his middle finger hellbound in a makeshift 'thumbs down'.

"DTIU!" Ralf cussed with his brittle white tongue.

It is so much easier to reminisce about the past. How cowardly we are – because the past is perfect. It is perfect because there is nothing we can do to change it. Clinging to it we stop in our tracks - and we cry in the cold snow.

But we have to move forward; otherwise you and I would be better off DEAD, as we dream about yesterday. Forget about the past, today I will continue to do this…

If you are UNABLE to fight for your happiness; then 13 angels will cry with you in sorrow – BUT, if you are UNWILLING to fight for happiness, then you have NO RIGHT to even shed a single [tear]…

-01.08.05 Happy Birthday, Elvis-sama.

section.04: Final Chain

The Chinese man scratched the bridge of his nose as he always did, and made sure the tip of his pencil didn't hit his expensive glasses before he muttered a textbook reply. "You see, son, all our pains can be traced back to our parents. Unless you have two fathers and two mothers you can never have a justifiable point of comparison… A – second opinion – if you will."

Dr. Richard Chan coughed.

"Without this comparison you can never really rightfully judge whether your parents did a good job or not; and as always you are trapped following their lead in your life, because this is the only example you had." He continued.

Ahem…

"Once you come to grips with this, you can gauge better if your parents are good examples or not; and if so then you can change, and move on,"

I'll see you again next week, therapy needs some time to sink in.

[I don't believe in therapy.]

…

There was no reply. His enemy didn't stand and Ralf was left alone once again. The chorus finally silenced around him as he stood above what was once his. Truly he had fought for his life but now it was simply a memory. Oh how Ralf wanted to feel that emotion again.

…

"ALL RIGHT! He DID it Sergio! He did it!"

"Yes," Sergio smiled proudly, his tense fist to his side in triumph.

…

"Did you see that? Did you see that Sergio?" Ralf muttered, setting his eyes downcast on the giant crumpled beneath his feet. Ralf's stomach expanded then contracted trying its best to fight the obvious shock in his midsection. Every muscle in his diaphragm convincing itself that the terror had ended.

Ralf's middle finger eased itself and his arms limped loosely by his side. Are you dreaming of distant memories, then you fall to a calm state of mind. It will guide to you another place. Now that it's gone, he just wanted someone to cheer for him, to reinforce his victory, to forget all those years he had taken it for granted.

As an answer the gunshot rang and Ralf felt part of his left shoulder explode in a red festival. He turned around to see Ching 10 yards behind him, the barrel of his pistol still smoking.

Ralf's mind exploded and muscle memory took over as his right hand ran up to his left shoulder, instinctively applying pressure and assessing the damage.

SHIT.

Clark rose up from his makeshift table shield and tried to see amongst the chaos. His earlier praise transformed into fright – his friend was hit. Every fiber of his being wanted to leap up, but his instincts kept him steady and stood his ground. He hoped he would not regret later.

Ralf's thoughts darted back to reality, and he threw his body behind the largest piece of furniture he could find. In his wake 3 more shots followed him. He grit his teeth and made his stomach tense to gauge if he had been hit in the barrage. Luckily for him they had all missed.

…

"GWAI LOH!" Ching screamed exposing his arrogant stature out in the open. "Come out! COME OUT!"

Ralf grit his teeth. The damage wasn't that severe, he could still make it. Ralf bit his lip – it was only GUNS. It was only lifeless tools, surely he was stronger. NO MORE GUNS. He willed himself steady even as his heart pulsed ever so fast and as he tried to not let his bladder go free from the shock.

"ARE YOU SCARED OF ME?! GWAI LOH!"

…

The words were clear to his ears, and suddenly all his worries started to fade away. "ARE YOU SCARED OF ME, SON!?" Then fear was only replaced. Why was he here…?

Ching held his breath and grinned as the white devil rose arrogantly from his hiding place, hunching half his bodyweight over the overturned table in front of him. Ralf's gaze was tense and ripped into the Chinaman. Ching's only reply was his right hand, his pistol perched towards Ralf.

"You are die." Ching said. "You cant have 'farewell to arms'.

"I don't want [it], It wasn't MY fault. YOU killed him."

Ching held his trigger finger and stared at the defenseless man in front of him.

"IT WASN'T MY FAULT! You killed Sergio. You killed him. I will –revenge- him." Ralf uttered. Ralf lifted his left arm slowly and painfully to his brow and grabbed a hold of his bandana. He ripped it from its hold and shelved it in his fists for all to see. You killed SERGIO!"

Ching eased his shoulders and grinned. "Who's Sergio?" He smiled. "You can't expect me to remember every white fuck I've killed do you?" With his chuckle Ching's henchmen slowly but surely erupted into their own fit of laughter.

Ralf didn't slow his pace and gripped into his palm, and surely he could feel his palms bleed. "LOOK AT ME, YOU FUCKIN CHINK!"

"Are you so sad?" Ching grunted. "Sad, that you weren't able to say goodbye to him. This; This Sergio? You're a no one! You will die too!"

The answer seemed to have been ready for 3 years. He didn't hear anything, "He will come for you! If you kill me, then he will COME for you…"

Ching burned Ralf's image in his mind and fired two shots. In the next instant he leapt for the wall and mashed his palm over the switch. It shut off the lights and made the room erupt into gunfire.

The answer seemed to have been ready for 3 years. He didn't hear anything, "He will come for you! If you kill me, then he will come for you…"

…

"If you shoot me, Ching, my son will come for you."

"Hah! A mercenary like you, who would feel sad for a man like you?"

"Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but one day – [he] will come for you…Ching." He grabbed ahold of his red camo bandana with his left hand, and said…

"So sad, white devil. Your boy never will have the chance to say 'I love you' to someone as WORTHLESS as you."

Christmas day. White show fell from the sky. It was just another day.

…

"HE WILL COME FOR YOU!" Ralf roared. "REMEMBER HIM!"

…

You don't understand it yet do you, Ralf? When a father lives only for his son, risks his life and throws away his future. When rejected, you can hopefully one day feel that.

I am so sorry you hate your father.

…

Ching gripped his pistol and went cautiously to the light switch. He flicked it on and immediately scanned the room. He saw the white coat and started firing until the slide of his pistol locked back, until there were no bullets left. He hit his target squarely on the back and it fell over.

"Got you!" Ching laughed as he walked towards the white suited body. Ching kicked the body over. To his horror, it wasn't Ralf at all whom he'd shot. It was the last gunman.

In an instant, Ching's right hand went ever so heavy, pressure to the back of his upper elbow then a man's entire weight onto his wrist. The tenseness in his fingers were apparent, as Ching felt his pistol's barrel dive downwards then twist free from his grasp.

Ralf was upon him, totally fearless, Ralf put his right palm over his enemy's steel slide, pushing it back with his thumb and index an inch out of battery – and rendering it useless, as he had done a hundred times before. Left hand under Ching's elbow to resist any action, Ralf pried the man's hand 90 degrees the wrong way in an incomprehensible position then snapped the pistol from Ching's hold and put his left palm over Ching's ear after smashing his elbow over the other.

Solid boots swung hard behind Ching's ankles, braking his hold onto the world. "Figure.3 Defang snake" Ralf said grimly above Ching as the man toppled defenseless on his bottom.

Ching's muscle memory kicked in finally and he launched his right palm forwards only to see nothing.

"Wait..." Ching's bravado broke, his right palm wide open in horror as soon as he knew what was happening. "Let's make a deal... Come on, I have the money, I will pay you double.. NO, TRIPLE of what your employer did okay? You're a mercenary right? You work for money right? Come on..." Ching rambled.

"Give me back Sergio." Ralf said in a grim tone.

"Yes.. yes.. he..." Ching stuttered.

"He was my father. You killed him. [THAT GOD] killed him."

"You've got to be joking... come on, it was in self defense - he was hired to kill me – I - me has lots of enemies you know. It wasn't personal. You got to believe me." The erratic murmurs erupted from the Chink's lips.

"I know that." Ralf growled. "I hated him. I hated his job. The blood he had on his hands..." {But he is still my father}, Ralf thought {Ironic again, that this is the only way for me to avenge him… to become as evil and worldly as he had become.} "It is an endless chain, Ching. Revenge."

…

"It will be – an [endless] chain, Ching."

…

Christmas Day. I wanted to say 'sorry to my father. BUT I hated them all.

What happened to my happy ending?

If [I] cant be happy then no one will…

…

A STATIC BUZZ…

Hey buddy, let's get it backers. That what was stolen from us.

"He is not like you, Sergio. He cannot atone for our sins."

OFF

…

"No, don't hurt my father!" came a voice from below. Sai Weng was beating on Ralf's legs. "Why do you want to kill my dad. You're a bad man."

"Yes, you are evil!" Ching mocked. "I do not kill people, I am only a businessman, I sell things. I only kill those who want to kill me. Why do you need an empty slogan to justify your action. It was your father who you should blame."

BLAME

Give me someone , anyone to blame. Let the chaotic static stop.

...

Memories flooding my mind. The rules will never change…

"My eyes, my eyes!" Yuri called out. Out of control, and afraid Yuri waved his machine gun and started shooting random fire in all directions.

"Shit!" Alex called out in frustration and anger. "He's in shock."

"Teme... (bastard)" Clark called out. "He shouldn't have gone up to point if he wasn't up to it. You're an idiot Alex."

"Shut up! I am in charge here" Alex yelled while rolling to dodge Yuri's barrage of random fire.

"Fuck..." Ralf said, "At this rate, we'll be killed... Yuri! There's no one shooting you, there're no enemies!" Ralf tried to reason to Yuri.

It fell on deaf ears as Yuri hysterically continued to shoot. The automatic bullpup singing a sweet melody.

"Fuck! FUCK THIS!" Ralf cursed again louder as he drew his 1911 pistol from the holster. "Yuri! YURI! FUCK THIS!"

There was a loud clap of thunder as Ralf's wrists shivered a bit, not from the recoil, but from his indecisiveness. The bullet ripped through Yuri's thigh and sent him sprawling down on the ground. Ralf prayed that that hit would end it, but quite the contrary, Yuri drew out his Uzi from his belt and started to fire more, faster, more unpredictable, dangerously.

We'll all die. Looks like Yuri's luck just ran out. Clark stood up, drew his venerable Browning Hi-Power and aimed carefully for Yuri's head. If you're gonna do something, don't do it half assed!

Clark fired a round, but he missed the rabid wolf that scampered and rolled around. There was more fire from Yuri, and one slug embedded itself into Clark's shoulder. Clark let out a grimacing yell and fell to the bushes.

"Clark!" Ralf screamed. In that moment, all reason stopped.

…as it always had, the cold steel - and instinct kicked in. Ralf's hand swung like how your foot would jerk when hit by those small rubber mallets. Two shots fired out, the one last. A precise hit, a sure kill.

Yuri, like a deer, jerked and fell over limp.

{This is a game. Clark's words echoed in Ralf's mind. It's like a FUCKING VIDEO GAME. Shoot and to kill, and death means only more and more points. Points mean money, and money means we survive to kill again another day. If you let it get to you, you won't last long in this game. There can be no affection, remorse, or bitterness or hate...}

...

When a [boy] picks up a gun and calls it his own, it is sad, it is inevitable, that pain; it is inevitable that sorrow will follow him for the rest of his days.

To be truly Godly, one must take responsibility for his actions. That is our mortality, we can never be perfect. This is our curse, as [HE] laughs at our sorrow.

…

Hello my friend. Goodbye my friend.

I remember the past. Our laughter and our joys. Also, our pains and our sorrows. To be killed by the one you love, there can be no other perfect end to the story.

How much we have changed, how much we have sacrificed. Blaming ourselves for our shortcomings, the past seems so trivial. It's so easy to create life, so hard to nurture it, yet so easy to end it. This is the irony of the world.

I KILL YOU. I HAVE MADE A CHOICE

…and that choice. When [love] becomes [hatred], if only to justify your convictions… I SET YOU FREE, partner.

"CLARK!"

The empty brass shell leapt above. Hopeful, defiant, and passionate. An empty brass shell wanted to reach the heavens, up until the last moment, when it stopped in mid air. Then the Earth took hold… gravity welcomed it back to pain.

Sayonara, Aibou (Goodbye, partner)

The hammer roared down as if the fist of judgment. Its forged steel and another link was put into place, into the cruel way of the world. This chain.

Right or wrong, this was what happened and will be chiseled into time. You cannot regret the past. Each moment, each static picture will shape the future. Whether you let it affect your own life, or drive you to destroy the others' future.

MAYBE IT'S A SIGN, WHEN WE KISS they're PERFECTLY ALIGNED.

…and when you scan the radio, I hope this song will guide you.

Memories shaping our future. Please, I beg of you, fight it.

OFF

Static… Just static. Then, darkness.

…

"Shut up!" Ralf yelled as he kicked Sai Weng aside and grabbed a fistful of Ching's hair. Ralf shoved his pistol head into Ching's mouth. "Blow it!" Ralf roared. "You slime! I hate you..."

Saliva slid down the barrel as Ching started to choke and his teeth chattered on the black steel in his fright.

"This is for Sergio." Ralf whispered...

"No...!" Sai Weng shouted.

"Wait... Ralf!" Clark yelled as he got up.

...

"My father is the best there is." Ralf said to his grade school classmates. "He is a secret agent. Cool huh? He shoots bad guys and is a hero."

In war when you kill someone, you're a hero... But in the peaceful world, it doesn't work that way. Criminal or executioner, you're all murderers.

...

How things have changed since that time... When Ralf was still a child. All broken with the truth. The knowledge and truth. His realization of the world his father lived in.

...

"...and another link to the endless chain..." Ralf blew a hole through the back of Ching's head that send chunks of head in all directions.

The silence that ensued afterwards was deafening. Clark slumped in exhaustion on a chair. Sai Weng sobbed spastically next to his father's ground up body and cradled it in his arms.

"FUCK!" Ralf cursed and threw the empty magazine to the floor and loaded in a new one with an authourative hit as the slide slammed into place.

He raised it and pointed it to Sai Weng.

Clark was denied his rest and leapt up at the sudden chaos - he ran and threw his right hand down onto Ralf's pistol as he had been trained. Putting himself between Ralf and the boy, he hunched 75% of his weight downwards as he thrust his left hand up behind Ralf's elbow.

He knew the move well. In retaliation Ralf lowered his center of mass to counter the weight and slammed his left palm over his own right thumb as soon as he felt Clark pull back. Then the hand slammed the slide of his pistol back into battery before moving it to counter Clark's controlling hand.

Ralf's rage stopped for a moment when he saw the blonde man fearless in front of him. His indecisiveness was all Clark needed. That moment when Ralf didn't fire the trigger was all he needed to swerve to the side from the line of fire, he pushed the gun's muzzle skywards. It fired and made Ralf winch to the side from the sudden flash, the empty shell that spat out hitting him on the forehead. By the time Ralf could reorient himself, it was too late – Clark, totally unfazed by the flash acted – he wrapped all of his left bicep around Ralf's wrist, his right forearm pushing the barrel of the pistol back towards Ralf.

Planting his right foot into the ground, Clark released a push kick into his friend, releasing the gun and heaving Ralf backwards.

What the FUCK do you think you're doing. Have you gone insane? The kid isn't part of the contract.

"You don't understand at all you selfish bastard!" Ralf spat back. "All you know is deals.. and money.. and killing. You're nothing but a butcher."

No it's you who's trash! You're the one who gets personal vendettas mixed up in business, and that's what fucks you up! Remember Alex? You were always his favorite and kept you off point. I hated him for it, but I knew that couldn't do anything, because it was part of the business, to send one man off for the sake of the whole platoon. If I had let it get to me, I would be dead by now, just like how fucked up YOU are.

...

"Okay Clark, it's showtime." Alex called out as signaled that it was his turn (again) to go act rooster.

Rooster is a term used back in 'Nam. It refers to the 'point man', someone in the platoon who is sent out ahead of the rest of the group, short of a human sacrifice, to draw out snipers, traps and mines. When the 'rooster' would 'crow' it would mean that there were dangers up ahead. A mandatory sacrifice for comradeship.

Clark knew he wasn't in good terms with Alex, their troupe commander. Alex always liked Ralf the best. However, unlike Ralf who was unstable and emotional, Clark never became bitter. He took it all in stride, and with every time he came back alive, he saw it as a gift. A chance to prove himself. It became a game to Clark, as to who would be the last to stand. Like a group of moths who circle the flame. If you don't go near enough, you'll go down the first time you pass the flame. Clark became calculating, and remorseless.

He played the game, and loved the feeling of how he could win it by the rules. Stay alive and you win to try your luck again, but in truth, the game was playing him.

...

Ralf's temples fumed and he sent his fist towards Clark's solemn face. Clark slid his arm under Ralf's, this sent his punch off. Clark then rammed Ralf's abdomen with his elbow and coiled his arms around Ralf's waist. With all the strength he could muster, Clark flipped Ralf over as easily as a cheerleader would flip a baton, and send Ralf's back dropping down to his jagged knee. Ralf tensed and in an instant reached for his waist and grabbed on to Clark's arm, and like a gymnast spun around avoiding the backbreaker. Upon hitting solid ground, Ralf dug his heels deep and charged with his fist leading, Clark followed suit, and they both hit each other's lungs, knocking the air out if it. They both twisted simultaneously and sent a backhand to each other's face. They wobbled for a second and dug uppercuts into each other's stomachs. Clark wobbled back while Ralf knelt and spat blood.

Still not satisfied, Ralf charged and send a hundred fists punching up towards Clark. Clark saw the move and countered it identically. Knuckle met knuckle and the shattering claps resonated down their arms and bones. Still noone gained the upper hand.

Ralf let out a yell and with that his fists burst out in flames. Clark could hardly keep up, since the force of Ralf's punches was overwhelming, that, couples with the flames needed his full effort to keep them at bay.

"How's THAT!" Ralf called as he kept the flames dancing on his fists.

…

You know nothing but to yell and scream in your bitter world. Unlike you, I live with the cards dealt to me. I learned from the times I was at point. Bitterness and hate don't exist in my world. I mold it to my advantage. You don't need to be just strong when you're at point.

Clark dealt his secret hand and increased the rhythm of his beating. He kept up with the power of Ralf's barrage and more. His punches would keep in pace with Ralf's, just keeping them away from hitting, but now he became faster. For every punch Ralf would send, Clark would reply with two, and to Ralf surprise, he couldn't counter all of Clarks hits. More and more punches would get through his wave and hit him in the chest. One by one Clarks fists would break through and pound Ralf's lungs. At the brink of exhaustion, Ralf gave in and Clark ground him up, his punches lifting Ralf up an inch and then two then three off the ground, and it ended with a full swing which sent Ralf sprawling to the ground, spasming like a fish out of water.

…

It stopped, because the weakness had been replaced. We have to move forward one way or another.

…

"He's just a kid." Forget him. More guards are coming, lets make a break for it.

Ralf stood up in frustration and wiped the blood from his chin and lips. He switched his gaze at Sai Weng who's tears had dried up.

Ralf ripped a loose tatter from his white sleeve to wipe Ching's blood from the rest of his neck and let it drop to hell. When Ralf laid his eyes onto the boy, it seemed that he knew what to do. The sobbing stopped. The harsh heavy metal music screeched to a halt, and it was replaced to a calming melody that danced between slow and fast then finally eased to a soft melody.

All that was left was hate in his eyes. Sai Weng kept the sobs in him until it hurt, but he wouldn't cry or sniffle any more.

"So, I am the bad man, eh?" Ralf whispered softly to Sai Weng, who would not hear him. "You hate me now don't you?" …Do you? "If you HATE me… Then GROW UP! And when you do, I'll be waiting for you. Then, you can take your revenge..."

Clark led the way out the dining room with Ralf following suit. Sai Weng knelt amongst the parade of dead bodies. He held his 'good', 'innocent' father in his hands, and clenched his fists.

…

This is the life of a mercenary. A game. The rules are simple... To live.. To die... The game has no end... And no one can break the rules of the Endless Chain.