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| A New Beginning [Scipio's Solo] | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Dec 22 2014, 05:01 AM (309 Views) | |
| William Scipio | Dec 22 2014, 05:01 AM Post #1 |
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William sighed and ducked his head, pulling the hoodie over his face as the rain began to fall heavily. Hugging his stomach tightly to stop the hunger pangs, threw his head back and laughed, the fat raindrops splashing against his face, filling his mouth with water. So this was how it all turned out. Just shy of two years of adventuring, and he’d been reduced from the feared mercenary ‘Sword Saint’ to some bum on the street. He no longer even possessed his beloved Sikanda after that last mission, the sword lost beneath the ocean’s waves, just as dead to him as his reputation was to the world. He was too proud to steal- his mother had taught him better than that. But other than fighting, William didn’t know how to do much other than be a servant. Still, even if there were people who wanted some kid as a butler, as opposed to the sexy maid down the street, he wasn’t very interested in going back to that life. So starvation it was. He’d stay here in the infamous Gatz’ Haven for a couple days, then maybe he would head on to a Red Ribbon or Black Bow base- if he was lucky, they might not recognize him, and he could find some work in the military sector. A guy could dream. Speaking of dreaming, Scipio thought that he might as well think about getting to sleep. He was starting to love sleeping a bit too much. He would dream of nothing but succulent hams and roast duck and feast tables miles long, and sure, he would wake up the next morning with a faceful of drool and a stomach full of pain, but at least the hunger was kind enough to leave him alone in the world of dreams. He had just laid down to sleep, a short overhang protecting him from the rain, when a pair of silhouettes blocked the light from his closed eyes. He forced himself not to tense up, trying to conserve energy, determining whether or not they were a threat. “What about him? He looks like a good mark. Look at the muscles on that kid- he’d be good for a spot of fun, I bet. He’d definitely last longer than the last guy. That chump died almost instantly.” Scipio ground his teeth in anger. Hobo Hunters. He had heard that they were a problem in some cities, but he had never imagined that he’d get the chance to enact revenge on some of them, for all his fellow hobos in the world. Just as he was ready to open up a whole case of whoopass on the bastards, one of them gently shook his shoulder, speaking softly. “Hey, buddy, you okay? You look hungry- do you want some food?” Will snapped his eyes open so fast at the mention of food that he almost forgot to act groggy. Fortunately, his stomach reminded him quite effectively, nearly crippling him with pain. “Here, buddy, take this. We’ve got way more of it if you want.” The man said, handing him a loaf of bread. Scipio nearly bit off the man’s fingers as he snapped at the bread, inhaling it into his stomach. He felt the man help him off the ground as he licked the crumbs from his fingers. “Come on, buddy- we got a whole table of free food waiting if you want it. We’re with a… charity organization.” Scipio obediently got in the car. He was confident enough of his power, reduced as it was, to get out of the eventual trap, but in the meantime, food. Sitting quietly through the car ride, the rain drumming soothingly on the roof of the car, Scipio barely noticed the miles fly by until he exited the vehicle and found himself in the ritzy part of town. He let out a low whistle as he saw the magnificent skyscrapers fly skywards, seemingly holding up the roof of the world. “Yeah, it’s impressive, ain’t it?” The generous hobo hunter replied. “Come on, we’re inside.” Scipio followed silently, memorizing the way out for when he was eventually ambushed. All thoughts of escape and planning left his head immediately, however, as he stepped from the hall into one of his dreams. Food stretched across a table that was, if not miles long, at least measured in the dozens of feet. Scipio actually slapped himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. Seeing this, the ex-military man chuckled, saying, “It ain’t a dream. Go ahead and eat to your heart’s content.” Scipio had already launched himself at the food like a human missile before the sentence had time to die in the air. He tore into the table like a savage animal, decimating the food and leaving it looking like a starving army had run wild there. With every bite he took, he could feel his unnatural metabolism revving into overdrive, and his superhuman strength once again flooded his veins. Having ended a goodly portion of the table, Scipio sat down in the chair, completely full for the first time in weeks. “Ho-ly shit.” The man muttered, just on the edge of hearing. “A-anyways, there’s just one thing I want you to do for all this food. I was going to say it earlier, but you were just too quick. Mind coming with me?” Shrugging, Scipio followed, staying silent as possible to unnerve the man…and to digest the food better. He waddled closely behind, feeling incredibly lazy with a full belly. The man eventually led him to a room…and blinded him. Immediately on guard, Scipio dropped into a battle stance, ready to kill anyone who got in his way, before his vision returned, showing him that what he thought was a flash grenade or the like was really blinding stage lights flooding his eyes. The jeering of hundreds, maybe even thousands, flooded his ears, as the military man leaned in. “Oh, I forgot to mention- this is a fight club. You’ve gotta pay for your food somehow, right?” Scipio smiled. This was it? Really, at this point, it was like God was rewarding him for his patience. ”I’m in.” “Now, if you don’t fight, I can always just put a bullet in your brain now, bu- wait, what?” ”I said, I’m in.” The man shrugged. “Okay freak, it’s your funeral. Hand me the hoodie and the shirt. Boss likes people going in shirtless- blood splatters farther, you understand, gives more of a show. He’s a married man though, so don’t think you’re gonna be seeing boobs anytime soon- women get sports bras. It’s a shame, I know, but them’s the breaks. Also, gimme your name, so we have something to say before the funeral.” Shrugging, Scipio removed his shirt and hoodie, warning, ”The name’s Will Scipio. I don’t care about the shirt, but anything happens to the hoodie and you’re a dead man.” The military mutt laughed. “You’re hardly in a position to be making threats, boy. Try to make a spectacle of your death.” With those words, Scipio flashed back to that first night when he had fallen in love with fighting, and his blood burned with joy. Adrenaline flooded his system, all thoughts of tiredness banished as he stalked his way up the steps. ”AND NOW, FOR TONIGHT’S ENTERTAINMENT IN THE BLUE CORNER, WE HAVE A NEWCOMER, SCIPIO!!! WILL HIS STING REACH THE CHAMPION TONIGHT, OR IS HIS FATE TO BLEED OUT IN THE GUTTER?” Scipio felt the weight of a thousand stares weigh him down as the jeers multiplied in volume, many of the punk-style women (and not a few of the men) making lewd comments at him, promising nights of pleasure and pain…if he didn’t die horribly tonight. Skipping up the stairs and entering the cage, Scipio leaned against the chain links, bowing mockingly to the jeerings. The jeering suddenly turned into shouts of adulation, peaking Scipio’s interest. ”AND NOW, IN THE RED CORNER, WALKING DOWN THE AISLE, WE HAVE DIMITRI ‘THE EXECUTIONER’ VINTERS! A NEW BOY, BUT CLEARLY A FAN FAVORITE ALREADY, GIVE IT UP FOR THE EXECUTIONER!” Scipio could barely suppress his disappointment as the musclebound hulk sauntered up the walkway. Sure, he was decently strong, but Scipio could feel that compared to himself, this man was barely a candle in the wind. Shaking his head. Scipio sighed. At least he was fed well. That was something. The muscle bound moron entered the arena, his assistants handing him several weapons as he stepped into the cage. Scipio excitedly turned around to find his ‘handler,’ only to see the man pull out a cigarette and shrug. ”Oh come on…that’s not fair at all. I wanna sword…” Scipio pouted. Will didn’t even have the time to turn around as he heard Dimitri roar and charge him before the fight had even started. ”OH, AND DIMITRI ATTACKS BEFORE THE FIGHT EVEN STARTS! WHAT A DIRTY CHEATER- NOT THAT THIS CROWD CARES! BUT WHAT’S THIS?” The announcer screamed in shock. Will had easily dodged out of the way of the careless charge, and was currently doing a one-armed handstand on Dimitri’s shoulders. ”IT’S ALMOST LIKE THE NEWCOMER SCIPIO… IS PLAYING WITH THE EXECUTIONER!” Laughing at Dimitri’s confused expression, watching the man whipping his head back and forth like a dog that has lost its prey, Scipio pushed off and bounded backwards- but not before stealing a sword from Dimitri’s belt. Hefting the sword a few times, Scipio nodded appreciatively, liking the balance on the bastard sword. Holding it in front of him, like a fencer’s blade, Scipio turned his body sideways, putting his right arm behind his back and dancing on the balls of his feet. ”I CAN’T BELIEVE IT! THE NEWCOMER ACTUALLY *IS* PLAYING WITH DIMITRI!” Scipio laughed as Dimitri charged again, and batted away the amateur’s ax craze with effortless flicks of the sword. Gliding across the arena, Scipio weaved a beautiful dance of steel and blood, his blade occasionally darting out to rip through Dimitri’s skin like paper, but never scoring more than a decent papercut. Occasionally, Scipio would ghost across the walls of the cage, and even the ceiling when he started getting bored, making the difference in power clear while giving the crowd one hell of a show. Laughing earnestly, Scipio saw that Dimitri was beginning to get scared. No longer would he charge forward, or even really attack- he would just turtle up behind a shield his supporters had thrown in, occasionally lunging forward with his spear. Sighing, Scipio shook his head. See, now you’re just boring. Time to end this. No longer dancing, blade carelessly at his side, Scipio began to heedlessly walk towards Dimitri. Backing away from Scipio, Dimitri flicked forward with the spear, and that brought Scipio to fearful action. Suddenly lunging forward, fast and low, Scipio brought the sword over his shoulder faster than the eye could follow, cutting downward like a blow from the heavens, his face a frozen rictus of rage. The spear was perfectly cleaved in half, the sword having impossibly met the spear at the tip and continuing all the way to Dimitri’s hand, which was now a mangled mess. Crying out in pain, Dimitri clutched his hand to his chest, huddling behind his shield. ”Coward!”” Scipio roared, his blade flashing like a falling star. Quicker than thought, one, two, three, four, five slashes echoed across the now silent arena, metal shrieking against metal rang through the air, and the shield fell to pieces on the ground, Dimitri now holding a useless handle. Grinning demonically, Scipio gave two deep slashes across Dimitri’s chest, trying to spur him into action. They weren’t mortal blows, but they would hurt like a mother, and would certainly get him to realize that his life was on the line in this fight. Scipio anticipated a far better fight now, after all, the man had so many more weapons, and with a name like ‘the Executioner,’ you HAD to be something, right? What he did NOT expect, however, was Dimitri to fall to his knees sobbing, clutching at Scipio’s boots, begging for his life. ”Oh God, blease dun kilb me, Ib sorry I wanna lib…God I wanna lib pleab spare my libfe…” Dimitri sobbed pathetically, his eyes full of tears and his nose dripping snot. ”Pathetic bastard, fight!”” Scipio roared, kicking Dimitri across the arena, expecting the pain to shock him back into being a man. But no, there the man continued to beg and plead for his life like a little bitch. Scipio entreated and threatened Dimitri several times to continue fighting, but to no avail. By this time, the audience had started shouting ‘KILL, KILL, KILL,’ and was becoming deafening. Disgusted, Scipio sheathed his new sword in his belt and stalked towards Dimitri. Grabbing the man by the belt, he physically picked up and threw the far heavier man out of the arena, breaking the cage lock with the force of the throw, before making his way to his own exit. ”HEY, SCIPIO, WHERE ARE YOU GOING? WE’RE EXPECTING A KILL HERE! YOU’RE NOT CHICKENING OUT, ARE YOU? KILL HIM! KILL, KILL, KILL!” The announcer annoyingly butted in, starting up the chant again. Scipio stood there patiently for a moment, before all his pent up frustration suddenly released itself in a single moment. “SIIIIIIIIIIILLLLLLLEEEEEEEEENNNNNNCCCCCCCEEEEEEE!!!”” Scipio roared, his voiced laced with power. Like a thunderbolt, this single word cracked through the noise, driving all to be as silent as the grave. Making his voice heard to all, Scipio began to speak, with all the authority of Death Himself. “There is no honor to be found in such a pathetic man, one that would beg for his life in such a fashion. I will not kill someone who has already given up in his heart. If you want a fight to the death, give me someone who is worthy of such a fate.” He remarked coldly, before opening the cage door and sauntering out. The entire room was silent for a moment, before erupting as one in cheers. The sound was once more deafening. ”I CAN’T BELIEVE IT! THE NEWCOMER SCIPIO JUST SHOWED US AN OVERWHELMING DISPLAY OF RAW POWER AND TECHNIQUE! WHO IS THIS KID, AND WHERE DID HE COME FROM? WHAT KIND OF FIGHTS COULD SUCH A MONSTER WANT, TO DELIVER US SUCH A PROMISE? DON’T YOU DARE MISS THE NEXT FIGHT OF SCIPIO THE CONQUERER!” His handler stood before him, his jaw nearly hitting the floor as he did so. ”Wha-what the hell was that? Where the hell did that come from? Who ARE you, kid?”” Scipio shrugged. “I told you. My name is William Scipio. Mind if I get my clothes back?”” As Scipio slowly put his shirt back on, his handler began speaking at a rapid pace. ”Kid, if it’s you, you and me, we can GO places. I can take you all the way to the top- I’ll get you the best fights with the strongest guys, you’ll see. Fight enough, and we might even manage to speak to the boss. I’ll make sure you eat and sleep like a king, you’ll never see a number in your bank account that doesn’t have a train of zeroes following it, and there’ll be no end of women- whomever you want, whatever kind you want, I’ll get her to you- not that I’ll have any trouble, with how many women will be throwing themselves at you after something like THAT. Stick with Marcus, kid, and I’ll hand you the world- after I take a cut, of course!” Marcus forced a laugh, clearly desperate to get this wonder kid on his card. ”All the food I can stomach, AND strong opponents? Tempting…what about this boss, is he strong?” Marcus grinned desperately, a single bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. ”He’s quite possibly one of the strongest men on Earth. And he’s rich as hell to boot!”” Scipio’s lips unconsciously turned upwards, smiling from ear to ear as he considered this. Strongest on Earth? Scipio would give his life to find this man…and fight him. “Alright. If you can do all that you promised, I’m in. Do you have anything else to eat? I’ve been starving for a couple weeks now, and I feel like stuffing my face and crashing.” Marcus’ face mirrored Will’s own, a giant grin splitting his face. ”Perfect! You won’t regret it, kid- I’m gonna make every dream you got come true, and you’re gonna make me a rich man! One more banquet and a stay at a ritzy hotel, coming right on up!” Oh yeah. Scipio’s life was definitely looking up. -------------------------------------------------------------------- Word Count: 2,783 Words Current Total Word Count: 2,783 Words Edited by William Scipio, Jun 3 2015, 02:41 PM.
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| William Scipio | Dec 22 2014, 10:13 PM Post #2 |
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Scipio clasped his hands behind his head, sprawling out in the absolutely massive canopy bed as the two girls got dressed, giggling. ”Thanks for the wonderful time last night. I can see why they call you the ‘Sword Saint.” The other girl laughed even harder, somehow still tipsy from last night. ”Ohhh yes. Remember, you’ve got our numbers- please call us if you ever feel…lonely.”” The two girls burst into gales of merriment. Oh yeah. This was the life. Waiting until he heard the ladies close the door behind them, Will stood up, looking around for his pants that had been all but ripped off him last night. After finding his hoodie on the shower rung, a shoe hanging perilously on the balcony railing, and seeing his boxers lazily swinging from the ceiling fan, maybe 30 feet up, Scipio quickly gave up on them. Those pants were probably long gone, touring Gatz’s Heaven- sorry, Haven- in the back of some luxury limo. Shrugging, Scipio pulled out a pair of black sweats from the frankly massive wardrobe that Marcus had provided him with, before grabbing the open bottle of whiskey on the dresser and heading out over the balcony, rescuing his shoe and leaning against the railing. Taking a swig straight from the bottle, Will sighed contentedly as he gazed at the chrome magnificence of his new hometown. Grinning, Scipio threw his head back and laughed. With how his luck had turned around, Will wasn’t entirely sure he didn’t have a leprechaun blessing his every move. It had been a few weeks since that first night at the fightclub, and Marcus had been promising him stronger enemies for a while now. Scipio salivated at the chance. Scipio turned around to the sound of a knock at the door, and the sight of Marcus barging in, a bulky wooden crate in his arms. ”Mornin’, champ! Got you a fight tonight, and a present to celebrate!” Scipio nodded noncommittally, taking another swig from the bottle. ”The little ladies are gone- good. You’re gonna love me for this, kid. Got you in a four-way battle royale tonight, but the kicker is that the other three are good friends, and I turned their coaches to hate our guts, so all three are gonna be coming after you, and they’re all pretty damned strong.”” Scipio grinned like a child on Christmas day. ”Now that’s what I’ve been waiting to hear! Good job Marcus- but did you get what I asked for?” Marcus used a crowbar to rip the top off the box. ”Of course I got what my cash cow asked for. The knives were easy enough. But do you know how hard it is to get an actual sword, not some cheap toy imitation, in this day and age? Never mind nine of the bloody things. Can you even use them?”” Scipio smiled wildly. It really was Christmas for him, after all. Picking up one of the swords and examining the edge, Scipio nodded in approval before sheathing it and attaching the knives and swords to his modified baldrics. ” You’ll see. I can’t wait for tonight.”” Marcus laughed. ”Yeah, you and about half of Haven.” The rest of the day passed uneventfully, if fitful, as Scipio wished every hour to fly by faster to the bewitching hour. Finally, after polishing off an entire second bottle of whiskey, and taking a good portion from the rum, Scipio passed out around noon, sleeping until there was just under an hour left until midnight. Marcus barged in, kicking Scipio awake. ”Really? You’ve been drinking all day? Get up, you fucking alcoholic! I swear, you better not lose this fight because you’re puking your guts out!” Scipio groaned and blinked away the grogginess. ”N-not my fault the bloody *hic* night wouldn’t come soon enough. Jus’ gimme an hour t’ sssssssober up, an’ I’ll be fine.”” Marcus looked absolutely livid. ”We don’t have an hour, you pickled bastard! Fight starts in 30 minutes, and you’re more fucked up than the hobos I picked you out from! Get your shit and get in the car” Scipio tittered a bit, swaying slightly as he stood up. ”It’s just a bit of boo-*hic*-oze. I’ll be ffffffiiiiinnnneeee. Jus’ gimme my sw-wor-wow, that’s a hard word t’ say- swwwORDS! Haha! Did it!” Marcus eventually managed to shepherd Scipio into the arena, to their now considerably spruced up green room. There was even more cognac and brandy there, which Marcus promptly hid. ”Alright, shirt off, swords on, kid.” Marcus said, helping Scipio change. ” Geez man, you could-could at least buy a guy…a drink! Oh wait!” Scipio collapsed in a fit of uproarious laughter, as if that was the funniest thing that was ever said or that ever would be said by a mortal. ”Oh my God…we’re fucked…” Marcus sighed. ”Just…walk out there, try to look sober, and try not to die too badly.” Once again, Marcus’ words rang in Scipio’s ears, reminding him of…something. He knew that it should have been important, but that wonderful amber haze covering his eyes and fuzzing his memories was just too nice to ignore. Walking through the bright lights, Scipio managed to at least look sober, even if he was irritated as hell by a dagger poking him in the kidneys. ”LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, HERE HE IS, THE STAR OF TONIGHT’S SHOW! PUT YOUR HANDS TOGETHER FOR THE KING OF KNIVES, THE BARON OF BLADES, HE WHO BEARS THE TITLE OF ‘CONQUERER,’…SWORD. SAINT. SCIPIO!!!” My God you’re freakin’ loud…can we tone it down to merely deafening, maybe? Scipio thought, clearly annoyed. Standing in the far larger cage, Scipio looked around at the three evil looking bastards surrounding him on all sides. He thought he should tell a joke to liven up the mood, but he couldn’t remember one for long enough. Ah well. “READY? ROUND ONE, FIGHT!!!” All three flew at him at once, but one was clearly faster than everyone else. Darting forward with serrated assassin blades attached to his wrists, the ninja wannabe, as Scipio decided to dub him, lunged at Will’s stomach, aiming to kill him with a single strike. Accidentally losing his balance, Scipio stumbled, managing to turn the instant kill move into a long scratch that splattered a bit of his blood across the bars of the cage. ”I-I DON’T BELIEVE IT! SOMEONE HAS ACTUALLY MANAGED TO BLEED SCIPIO! COULD THE SUPERHUMAN SWORDSMAN HAVE FINALLY FOUND HIS MATCH?”” The double shock of the pain from the blade, as well as his blood tinting the pristine white of the floor immediately shocked Scipio back into deadly sobriety. Shaking his head wildly, Scipio took the locations of all three fighter into account and sprang into action. Grabbing the throwing knives, Scipio accurately launched 5 of them, 3 ending at the knight wannabe, and two at the monk wannabe. The ninja wannabe had a plated knee coming his way. Though the monk managed to block the two knives that came his way with his twin cestus, one of the knives penetrated deeply into the knight’s armor, clearly drawing some blood, judging from his screams of pain. The ninja easily deflected the knee, skipping backwards, suddenly wary. Grinning, Scipio slowly put his hands on two of the swords protruding like seraph wings from his baldric. “So…gentlemen…you ready to play?” He grinned evilly, before his hands moved like greased lightning, throwing two, four, six, seven of his nine swords all across the cage, dashing forward as he drew the final two blades, jumping in the air and spinning to gain momentum. His body parallel to the ground, spinning like a top, Scipio stuck out both blades, slicing downwards fast enough to create a sonic boom. Barely dodging the initial rush, the knight found himself inexorably drawn towards Scipio as the air surrounding him rushed to fill the vacuum, bringing the steel giant in range of the dance of death. Getting his feet under him, Scipio ducked under the wildly flailing mace, violently slicing upwards, scything through the metal armor with ease, and mangling the knight’s arm beyond repair. Covered in his opponent’s blood, grinning demonically like some fallen angel rising from the pits, Scipio stood there menacingly, the tortured figure of the knight playing a soundtrack of screams behind him. The monk was suitably spooked, though the ninja’s face couldn’t be seen from under the mask. “I gotta thank y’all for keeping me company and making sure I was okay when I was drunk as hell. What say I return the FAVOR!” Scipio roared as he charged, throwing his last two swords at his opponents. ”Ha! Someone who throws his weapons away…is a dead man!” The monk sneered, lunging forward. ”No, Howard, wait!” The Ninja yelled. ”Your ninja friend is right, Howie- you done fucked up!” Scipio hissed, as he grabbed hold of one of the blades deeply impaled in the ground. Using it as a pivot point, Scipio swung his legs around, ducking under the monk’s kick and swiping his other leg out from under him. Ripping the blade from the ground, Scipio flipped forward, ready to impale and end the downed monk, when he heard the clanking of metal behind him. Impossibly contorting his body in mid-air, he put his forearm against the flat of his blade to block the incoming mace head, the knight having dropped his shield to attack with his non-mangled arm. Will had to content himself with injuring the monk through body slamming him. His savage joy, however, turned to dread as the monk pinned his arms to his sides with an unnatural strength. ”Jonathan! Takeo! Now! End him!” Scipio snarled as the ninja and knight prepared to kill him. Shit! This bastard knows ki techniques! I underestimated them! Thinking quickly, Scipio drew two more knives from his belt, slamming them into the back of the monk’s hands, and dragged them across his arms, scything through the meat of the muscle all the way to the elbow. Screaming, the monk released Scipio for just a second, at which point he took the opportunity to ram both daggers into the monk’s shoulder joints, incapacitating his arms. Drawing two more daggers at the last second, Scipio fully deflected the mace into the monk’s leg, breaking the knife to do so, but was unable to turn aside the incredibly quick ninja blade aimed at his vitals. So, allowing the assassin’s blade to impale him, Scipio snaked his arm around the ninja’s, blocking out the pain. Grabbing a sword lying next to him, Scipio snarled with bestial rage and lopped off the ninja’s arm at the shoulder. Roaring with delight from the sounds of pain surrounding him, Scipio rolled away, ripping off part of the monk’s cloth vestments as he did so. Panting slightly, Scipio grabbed the ninja’s arm, still attached to the blade, but not to the ninja, and ripped it out of him, quickly using the fabric stolen from the monk to jury rig a bandage. Not good…I’m losing a fair bit of blood here. The booze is blocking some of the pain, but I need to end this, now. End the monk first, then the knight, then the ninja. Then go home and bleed all over that beautiful bed. Good plan, great plan. Let’s do it. Scipio was just about to launch into action when the ninja yelled out in frustration. ”How are you not dead? That blade was poisoned- the moment your liver tried to process it, you should have died instantly!” Scipio laughed out loud, actually aggravating the wound in the process. ”Liver? You picked the wrong poison, mate! I’ve been piss drunk on rum and whiskey since noon- my liver quit and went home on me loooooong before this fight! Ohhh man, you are just one unlucky bastard, ain’t ya?!” Like a switch, Scipio went from jolly laughing man to killing machine in the blink of an eye, taking everyone by surprise. Bounding towards the ceiling, Scipio grabbed two of the swords hanging there, pushing off and slamming both swords into the ground, impaling the monk’s shoulders and fixing him in place. ”Better luck in the next life, monk!” Scipio roared, twisting his body without ever touching the ground. The two blades moved in perfect synchronous arcs, bisecting the monk’s torso while separating his head from his neck. ”Next, the damned knight!” Throwing a knife to distract the ninja, Scipio slammed both blades into the knight’s feet, entering where the top of the foot met the leg and exiting at the heel, nailing him in place. Deaf to the sounds of pain before him, focusing only on the deadly blade behind him, Scipio drew two more tactical knives, guiding the ninja’s blade into the knight’s thigh with a small application of power redirection. Spinning around the ninja, his footwork impeccable, Scipio worked up the momentum to slam his knife forcefully into the ninja’s elbow, simultaneously crippling him and giving his blow the power to fully penetrate the knight’s armor and enter his knee. The knight fell to his knees, now *finally* at killing height for Scipio Grinning wildly, more a beast than a human at this point, Scipio dove over the tower of armor, drawing one more dagger from his seemingly infinite supply. Jumping onto the knight’s shoulder’s, his knees in the man’s back, Will locked himself in place by digging both knifes into the chink where helmet met breastplate. The man screamed as the knives dug under his clavicles. Making eye contact with the ninja, William grinned ferally and winked, as if you say ‘you’re next’ as he jackknifed his body backwards, immediately snapping the knight’s neck and ending his life. Withdrawing his daggers, Scipio sheathed the, as he backflipped off the knight, grabbing a sword stuck in the wall, and another in the ceiling as he did so. ”So, this was fun and all, but I’m bleeding out over here, and if we’re being entirely honest, I’m getting a bit bored now. So what say we end this here and now?” William smiled kindly, in stark contrast to his visage as a shinigami, a god of death. ”You killed them, you killed all of them…you bastard!!!” The ninja lunged forward, kicking with a blade hidden in his boot until the last moment. ”Good man.” Scipio said softly, before flooding the stadium with his ki, and putting everything he had into a single attack. When the dust settled, Scipio stood there, head bowed in respect, and the Ninja fell to the ground, cleaved perfectly in two. The crowd was silent for a moment. Then Scipio raised the sword above his head, and the crowd went absolutely berserk. “I DON’T BELIEVE IT! MY EYES HAVE GOT TO BE LYING TO ME, BECAUSE I JUST WANTED A ONE MAN ARMY DECIMATE THREE OF THE STRONGEST FIGHTERS THIS ARENA HAS TO OFFER! THEY WOUNDED HIM, BUT IT LOOKS LIKE HE BARELY FELT IT, AND HE LEFT THEM IN PIECES NOT EVEN THEIR OWN MOTHERS WOULD RECOGNIZE! ANY MAN WHO DARES CHALLENGE THIS SAINT OF SWORDS COURTS THE DEVIL HIMSELF!” As he left the arena, Scipio saw a particularly beautiful woman eyeing him in the crowd. Hopping over the barricades, ignoring the grabbing hands of a thousand adoring fans reaching for his clothes, his blood, his groin- anything to remember him by, Scipio leaned in and whispered to the woman, before grabbing a marker and signing his name and number, winking at her as he did so. Jumping back to the alley leading out the arena, Scipio grinned as the normally annoying speaker praised him once more. ”I CAN’T BELIEVE IT! THE MAN JUST LEAVES A DEATHMATCH, BLOODIED AND DRUNK, HAVING TAKEN JUST AS MANY INJURIES AS LIVES, AND HE STILL HAS THE ENERGY TO FLIRT! THIS MAN IS TRULY IMMORTAL!” Smirking, Scipio headed back to Marcus, making it through the door before his legs betrayed him. “Hey, get someone to go grab my swords and knives, as well as the forearm blades the assassin wannabe had, will ya? I liked those things. Expect a call from a pretty blonde girl- gave her my number….oh, and if you could get me to a hospital, I think I’ve been poisoned by something that tries to murder the liver…and the alcohol is just about gone from my system, so I’m starting to feel it… Okay, thanks… you got it from here…. … ….’night, Marcus.” Scipio managed to mutter before slumping to sleep in Marcus’ arms. ”Dammit kid, you don’t know the meaning of subtlety or restraint, do you? Nevermind personal space. Still, I got you. Everything’ll get done, don’t you worry. Just take it easy- for once in your life. You did good, kid.” ----------------------------------------------------------------- Word Count: 2,782 Words Total Word Count: 5,565 Words |
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| William Scipio | Dec 23 2014, 09:03 PM Post #3 |
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Scipio sighed as he walked around the barren apartment, the cute blonde girl, Ashley, from that royale a couple weeks before back in his bed, still calmly sleeping, oblivious to the fact that her lover was up and about. Yawning, Scipio scratched at the itchy bristles growing upon his chin, looking for a knife to cut it off. Unfortunately, Marcus seemed to have hidden all of Scipio’s weapons, as well as all of the booze- spoilsport. Just because he got drunk before a fight one time, and went out and partied and then started throwing knives at specified targets one time, and because he…wow, okay, Marcus might actually have a pretty damn good reason for hiding the booze and weapons, now that Scipio reflected. Still there was one knife that Scipio knew Marcus hadn’t taken. Quickly checking his combat boots, William dug out his last tactical knife from its hiding place in the shoe’s heel. For some reason, he always slept better knowing there was some kind of steel close at hand. The door to his room opened up suddenly and without warning. Scipio instinctively hid the boot behind his back, reaching for the knife’s handle, only for the silhouette to reveal Marcus. Scipio relaxed, dropping the boot. ”Mornin’, champ, what do ya got the-for the love of God, put some clothes on! Save all that for tonight!” Shrugging, Scipio couldn’t help but laugh as he went to go find pants. ”Ah, ya bloody prude. Can’t take a good jo- wait, tonight?” Scipio looked up excitedly. ”That’s right, you psychotic battle loving bastard. I got you a fight with the champion of the arena. It’s been a loooooong time in coming, but this man is a one man army, just like you. However, she’s your exact opposite- where you use swords and knives, she uses every kind of gun known to mankind. Nickname’s ‘Hailstorm,’ since it looks like you’re in one when you’re fighting her. No one knows her real name or her face-always wears a mask, never been beaten. Think you can take her?” Scipio grinned ferally. ”I don’t know. And that’s the best part about all of this.” At that point, the beautiful girl that was in William’s bed had apparently woken up, and strode up to the pair, having gotten dressed already. ”Thanks for the wonderful time, William. I look forward to seeing you again tonight.” Both Marcus and Scipio watched in reverent silence as she sashayed out of the room. ”Goddamn, you lucky son-of-a-bitch.”” ”Mhm~” The two of them simply stayed like that for a moment, appreciating the smell of the woman and the memories she left. ”Anyways, you have a fight tonight, midnight as usual, champ. No getting drunk- not even you can mess around this time- and no getting into something stupid again! I swear, you can never arrive normally to a fight, can you?” Marcus sighed. Shrugging Scipio replied, ”Doesn’t look that way, Marcus. Anyways, I’m going for a walk around the city- I don’t think I’ve ever left this damned penthouse.” Marcus laughed. ”With women like that wandering in and out of that door, who could blame you? Have fun kid, and be at the arena by 11:30.” Scipio gave Marcus a thumbs up before putting on the remainder of his clothes and striding casually out the door. Scipio had a grand day out on the town, checking out the stores, buying whatever struck his fancy and sending it back to the penthouse for later perusal. For all his faults, Marcus kept every promise he made- Scipio didn’t even realize a bank account could hold that many zeroes in it. His incredibly showoff-y way of spending quickly attracted a minor harem of gorgeous women who followed him long after the sun had sunk past the horizon. They hit up bar after bar (though to their disappointment, Scipio refused to drink for once in his life), went to karaoke clubs, and generally raised hell on the town as midnight quickly approached. A girl under each arm, one redhead and one with her hair dyed blue, and a few more following behind like a pack of hungry dogs, meant that Scipio was a very happy man indeed. ”Hey, love, be a dear and tell us the time, would you?” ”It’s 10:50. You’re not getting tired, are you? We’ve only just started to party! And we haven’t gotten you to drink yet!” The blue haired girl complained, hugging his arm and making sure to squeeze her ample bosom against him. ”Not my fault ladies; if I had my way, I’d take you all back to my place and have my way with you,” a smattering of giggles and gasps punctuated this comment, as well as remarks of ‘how bold!,’ and not a few delighted purrs, ”buuuuuuuut I got work to do tonight. Sorry, girls! I reckon I outta-“ Cut off in the middle of his sentence, Scipio was jostled by some utter bastard, sending him and the girls lurching to the side. Suddenly irate, Scipio removed his arms from both the women, turning to confront the man. ”Hey you, fucker! What the hell do you think you’re doing? Can’t you see I’m walkin’ here, wanker?” As Scipio put his hand on the man’s shoulder to stop him, the punk spun around, instantly drawing a switchblade. The women screamed. ”I hate good looking playboy fucks like you. Always going around with all the women you can, never leaving any for anyone else. Ever hear of sharing? How about fear? Betcha you’re scared now with a knife in your face, aren’t ya, tough guy? I’m Marshal Lynch, boss of the Mongrels, biggest gang in Haven. You can’t touch me. What’s the matter, playboy, got nothing to say?” Marshal chuckled evilly. The already nearly deserted street quickly became as empty as a penguinless Antartica landscape. Scipio shrugged nonchalantly. ”Oh, nothing. I was just waiting for you to finish your self-righteous bullshit spiel. You’re done, right? Good. Anyways, the reason I don’t share is 1) I’m selfish as hell, and 2) What kinda woman would wanna go out with a dogface like you? You really named your crew well. Really, I’m just doing these ladies a favor, snapping them all up so they don’t have to go out with a bastard like you. By the way, what’s up with the tiny switchblade? No no no, lemme guess- compensation! It’s the only thing your dick looks normal-sized when they’re side by side, right?” Scipio extended and crooked his pinky finger, laughing. ”Why, you bastard!” Marshal roared, lunging at Scipio’s eyes with the knife. The womenfolk’s shrieks were ear-splitting. Sighing, Scipio lazily tilted his head to one side, the knife missing his face by centimeters. Reaching up slowly and deliberately, Scipio encased Marshal’s hand with his own and crushed it. From there, he swung his elbow upwards, smashing Marshal’s nose in and smearing it all around his face. ”There. A muzzle better fit for a dog such as you.” Scipio sneered, spitting on Marshal and pocketing his knife. Shrugging, Scipio turned back to the girls. ”So sorry for that, ladies. What say we call a limo and make our way over to the arena, hmm? Stay in the VIP lounge with me- my treat.’ ”That’s right, I want ALL of you fucks out here! Some blonde haired blue eyed skinny bastard just dared call out the Mongrels- show him what fear means!” Sighing, Scipio turned back around to Marshal. ”Actually ladies, it looks like I’m gonna be going home a lonely man after all.” Raising his foot up, Scipio brought it down hard on the man’s hand holding the phone, crushing phone, hand, and taking a fair bit of ear with it. ”Damn. I hate a cold bed, too. Here’s $500 for the lot of you- get a cab home, split the rest as my apology to y’all. You’re not going to want to be here soon. Hell, I don’t want to be here- but that’s just because it’s going to be a massive pain in the ass. But, before I go….” Grinning, Scipio spun around the blue-haired girl, pulling her in close and kissing her before she knew what had happened. As she melted in his arms, pushing up closer against him, completely entranced, Scipio slipped her wristwatch off, pocketing it. ”You can take that one for the road, love.” He said, grinning. As he waved the girls off, Scipio took out the watch and examined it And I’ll take this in return. Alright. 10:55. No problem. I’m good for time! Hopping twice to get the blood pumping, throwing the hood of his jacket over his head, Scipio began running towards the arena, trying to make it in time before those damned goons caught up. And even through Scipio could run pretty damned fast, apparently those bikes had turbo motors, because William could hear them catching up. Spinning around, Scipio withdrew the knife from his boot, staring down a fleet of motorcycles. The two stayed like that for a moment, man and army, simply staring each other down. Then one blaggart had to go and mess it up. “Gonna turn you into pavement, fucker!” He said, gunning the engine and attacking William alone. Scipio sighed. Some men just had no sense of style. Switching his grip on the knife, holding it in reverse, Scipio sank down in a hyper-aggressive stance, all his weight on his front leg, ready for one devastating blow. As the gangster closed in with his wooden sword, Scipio lunged forward, seemingly far too soon for such a tiny knife. A roar split the air as the knife pierced the sound barrier, the Ki running along its edge strengthening and lengthening the edge until it scythed right through the battle’s herald, cutting him in twain from the heart on down. Stopping the man’s motorcycle dead where it stood, the wheels squealing in protest, Scipio swung his legs around and mounted the bike. Sticking his middle finger to the rest of the gangsters, Scipio revved the engine. ”Catch me if you can, bitches!” Gunning it, Scipio popped a wheelie before squealing out, losing control of the bike and falling flat on his ass. Ohhh…SHIT! He moaned internally, quickly getting back up. “Hey, murder the bastard!” One yelled, and they were all after him. ”Shiiiittt…..shit, shit, shit shit shit! HA HA!” Scipio yelled as he quickly got the bike back up, his butt in the seat, and the machine moving, without any movie screen theatrics this time around. ”Eat fumes, suckers!” He called over his shoulder, laughing. And so the chase was on, one man versus an entire mob. Weaving back and forth on the mainly empty streets, Scipio tried to make himself a harder target for those who would surely have guns. Two men, both with unwieldy katanas, swung at him. Blocking one, Scipio kicked his motorcycle out from underneath him, ducking under the second one. Digging his knife into the second man’s shoulder, Scipio secured his grip and used his superhuman strength to physically pull the man from his bike and launch him off into a dumpster they passed by. Immediately braking and sticking out his arm, Scipio clotheslined another man who was gunning to come up from behind him and nudge him out of control. ”Ain’t happening, wanker!” Scipio roared, the adrenaline from the chase starting to get to him. Another man pulled up alongside Scipio, this time bearing a shotgun. ”Oh, bloody hell!” Scipio complained, using his upper body strength to pop his stolen motorcycle into a wheelie, using the engine block to stop the buckshot from ripping him to shreds. A successful tactic, but Scipio immediately felt the bike start slowing down as behind him ran an ever-growing line of gasoline. Thinking quickly, William bunched his muscles underneath him and leapt for the shotgunner. Diving for the man’s back, Scipio slammed his knife into the back of the man’s neck and jerked upwards, scything through the spinal cord and killing him instantly. Throwing him from the bike, and wicking away the blood on his newly favorite knife, Scipio looked behind him for other pursuers. His jaw dropped as he saw his old motorcycle sliding on the ground, sparking like hell, before catching fire and exploding in the middle of the Mongrel pack like something outta a movie. ”Haha, home free, bitches!” Scipio yelled out to the sky. Checking the watch, he saw that it was 11:30. If he floored it all the way to the Arena, he would make it just in time for his fight. Gunning the engine, metal and rubber shrieking in protest, the smell of ozone wafting into Scipio’s nose as he accelerated. Looking behind him, seeing the majority of the gang behind him horribly injured, dead, or disoriented, Scipio grinned. Eat my dust, suckers, I’m gonna make it on time! Whipping his head back around, Scipio felt his grip loosen on the throttle, and he slowly petered out to a stop at the sight before him. ”Or, you know, maybe not…” He muttered silently. Before him seemed an endless sea of headlights. That dog-faced leader when he said the mongrels were the largest gang in all of Haven- it seemed to Scipio like half the city must have been members. Once more, the two pairs stared each other down, man and army, neither moving. Scipio, for the first, and possibly last time in his life, opted for diplomacy first. ”G’evening, gents. Look, I’ve got an event to get to, and I would hate to be late. You wouldn’t maybe think of…moving, maybe?” The new leader of the gang shook his head. “Shoulda thought of that before you smoked the boss, bitch. Now they’re gonna need a telescope to find what’s left of your body.”[/color] Scipio sighed. ”I was afraid you were gonna say that. Well, let’s do thi- wait, did you just say ‘telescope’? Telescope? Pfft! It’s microscope, you uncultured heathen! ‘they’re gonna need a microscope to find what’s left of your body!’ God, I don’t feel bad about this at all- I’m saving the genetic pool right now from you wankers!” The leader snarled. “Waste the bitch!” As one, the gang revved their bikes, flooring it for Scipio. In return, the sadistic swordsman grinned maliciously, popping a perfect wheelie this time, charging at the gang with reckless abandon, roaring his fury at the world. The sight of this lonely berserker charging an entire army with nothing but (albeit a large set of) knives actually made some of the men falter, and that was all Scipio needed. Diving off the bike, Scipio lunged for the first man, wielding both daggers in reverse grip and holding them out like a twisted and lethal set of wings. Slamming both daggers into the man’s neck, and watching his motorcycle cause a large crash in the heart of the enemies, Scipio laughed like a madman, launching himself forward off his daggers, like a kamikaze rock climber jumping for a higher grip. This time he went for the heart, allowing him to swing his mass around and kick the next man clear off his bike. “What are you guys doing? Waste ‘im!” Scipio pushed off both daggers, clearing the fight by a solid 20 feet as machine guns, pistols, and shotguns opened fire on where he once was. Oooohhhh….mate, video game logic does not apply where friendly fire is a thing. He thought as dozens of gangsters were mowed down by their brothers in arms. Shaking his head and tching, Scipio floated in midair for a moment, his upward momentum perfectly cancelling out gravity at the apex of his jump. “No, you idiots! Waste HIM! Aim for the blondie! Where’d he go?” As Scipio began to plummet back to earth, he called out to the new boss, who had the misfortune of having moved below him after the crossfire. ”Above ya, mate!” Scipio called out, swan diving onto the man, daggers outstretched. Like the Angel of Death in Egypt all those centuries ago, Scipio came amongst the flock of Mongrels, killing or maiming any who got in his way. Far more were terminated by friendly fire, until Scipio finally reached the other side of the army, his feet having never once touched the ground. Throwing the last man off his bike courteously (he was alive and uncrippled, that was courteous enough), Scipio looked behind and saw the biker gang in complete disarray. Popping another wheelie, Scipio yelled, ”Yippie Kai-yay, motherfuckers! Remember this day forever, as the day you almost caught Sword Saint William Scipio!” Unfortunately for his badass rating, he once again screwed up the wheelie, becoming trapped under the bike. Son of a bitch, I had such a good thing going, too…Dammit. He thought dejectedly, flipping the bike off, getting back on, and gunning the engine like a normal person. Okay. Shit. 11:51. I can make it. I can definitely make it…I hope. Putting the engine into the red zone, Scipio floored it all the way to the Arena, keeping count of ever second that passed in his head. Shit Shit Shit…11:58…59…not gonna make it! Scipio could hear the announcer doing his thing, but there was no way he would make it past the maze of corridors to the fighter entrance in time. ”WHAT’S THIS? WHERE’S SCIPIO? COULD HE HAVE GOTTEN SCARED AND RUN WITH HIS TAIL BETWEEN HIS LEGS? HE’S GOT 30 SECONDS UNTIL FORFEIT!” Scipio could feel his good life slipping away from him with every word the announcer said. Bowing his head over the motorcycle, Scipio knew it was over. But a sudden, wild hope picked up his ears. He could hear the announcer, but it was a soundproof arena! Scanning the entire arena, Scipio caught sight of a skylight that had been left open, in order to allow air to cool the otherwise boiling room. Thinking quickly, Scipio floored the engine, no longer caring that he might burn it out, aiming for the empty tow truck ramp before him, the driver clearly going home for the night. As he slowed down to take the turn, Scipio overtook him, using the car treads as a ramp to send him flying. Only in the middle of the sky did Scipio realize how bad a decision this was turning out to be. ”Shit shit shit…shitshitshitshitshitshitshit!!!” He screamed, his momentum carrying him and the bike through the air, perfectly aimed at the skylight. 5…4…3… ”2…1!!!”” ”WAAAAAIIIIITTTTT!!!” Scipio yelled, as he landed on his feet inside the arena, skidding for a few feet. The bike continued with its momentum and low friction, coming to a halt after crashing against an unforgiving wall. Brushing himself off, Scipio tried to make it look like this was all planned, and that he hadn’t come within a scant second of disqualification. ”What, you weren’t thinking of starting without me, were you?” He laughed. ”I DON’T BELIEVE IT! AT THE LAST MOMENT, SCIPIO JUST FLEW IN ON A MOTORCYCLE AT THE LAST SECOND, AND IS ACTING LIKE IT’S THE MOST NORMAL THING IN THE WORLD! I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS KID!” Turning around, Scipio saw Marcus trying to wave him down like a madman. ”Dammit, kid! Can’t you ever enter one of these things like a normal person?!” Scipio simply laughed and smiled beatifically. ”Nope!” ----------------------------------------- WC: 3,227 Words TWC: 8,792 words Edited by William Scipio, Dec 23 2014, 09:04 PM.
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| William Scipio | Dec 25 2014, 09:41 AM Post #4 |
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Shrugging off his beloved white hoodie, and throwing his shirt to the cheering crowd, Scipio turned to Marcus, sticking out his arms to make it easier for his handler to throw the myriad sheathes, buckles, and weapons over his body, until Scipio resembled nothing so much as a character from a recent Final Fantasy game: all belts and buckles and no class. When no buckles came his way, Scipio turned to Marcus, confused. Marcus only had a shake of the head to offer. ”Sorry kid- they’re not allowing you to bring in any weapons. You’re to put on this choker, though- they’re planning something special for you. Champion’s got a special stage for any challenge- home field advantage.” Scipio scowled. ”Dammit. No weapons? How the hell do they expect me to fight well? I’m a damned weapons expert…whatever. And even a choker, the kinky bastards… Fine. Okay. Just… load me up on the baldrics and knife holsters, anyways. Got an image to keep up, no?” Scipio laughed as it was Marcus’ turn to shrug, equipping his champion as requested. ”LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, BOYS AND GIRLS OF ALL AGES, HELLO AND WELCOME TO THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH! WE’RE HERE TONIGHT AT HAVEN’S FIGHT CLUB, FOR THE EVENT WE’VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR- ‘SWORD SAINT’ SCIPIO’S CHALLENGE FOR THE BELT! SCIPIO, PLEASE STAND ON THE OUTLINED SQUARE!” Annoyed already at the incredibly loud announcer’s voice, seemingly right in his bloody ear, Scipio closed his eyes, breathing in deeply while making the ‘drawing in air’ yoga gesture with his hands, before exhaling slowly, this time putting his palms down and reversing the original gesture, preparing himself for battle. Opening his eyes, Scipio searched for the square the announcer had mentioned, and quickly crossed over to it. He someone managed not to freak out as the square lit up like a Christmas Tree, and started sinking into the ground. ”NOW, AS BOTH COMPETITORS HAVE INCREDIBLY DESTRUCTIVE FIGHTING STYLES, FOR THE SAKE OF THE AUDIENCE WE WILL CONFINE BOTH FIGHTERS TO AN UNDERGROUND ARENA. WORRY NOT- CAMERAS ARE EVERYWHERE SO WE DON’T MISS A SECOND OF ACTION, AND BOTH FIGHTERS ARE WEARING CAMERAS ON THE CHOKERS AROUND THEIR NECKS, TO TRULY SEE WHAT THE FIGHTERS SEE! THERE’S NO SOUND, BUT THIS IS A ONCE IN A LIFETIME CHANCE TO LIVE VICARIOUSLY THROUGH TWO SUPERHUMAN FIGHTERS! THIS IS NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART OR STOMACH, AS BOTH FIGHTERS ARE WELL KNOWN FOR INCREDIBLE FEATS OF SPEED AND AGILITY! CONSIDER YOURSELVES WARNED!” Scipio blinked in amazement as the platform lowered itself enough to show him the arena he would be fighting in. The room was massive, easily as large as a football or soccer field, with maybe 50 feet separating the ceiling and floor. The entire arena was littered with obstacles, from chest high walls and 10 foot tall pillars for cover, to platforms both wide and narrow, and at varying heights throughout the entire arena, seemingly floating in midair with no external support. There was even a violent river splitting the arena in half. What amazed Scipio the most, however, were the weapons. Guns and blades both littered the field, seemingly strewn at random. Ammunition clips were embedded into most of the vertical obstacles- Scipio could see a small indent next to one of these- presumably to allow one to claw out said clip from the obstacles. Much like the guns, the ammunition seemed random, both in the location and gun it would fit. More worried for himself, Scipio looked around for blades, and smiled. Like gravestones for fallen soldiers, bladed weapons, from trench knives to claymores, stuck out from every conceivable surface, at every angle and way. Scipio even saw two swords embedded pommel first and up to the hilt on the underside of a platform, and laughed. Now how in the hell am I supposed to retrieve those? A more predictable progression of swords, guns, and ammo lined the walls in easy to browse racks. It was like Murderers ‘R’ Us, and Scipio was in heaven. ”LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WELCOME TO THE GRAVEYARD! THIS IS THE CHAMPION’S PERSONAL PLAYGROUND, MODIFIED TO HER SPECIFICATIONS AND SCIPIO’S NEEDS. NEITHER FIGHTER WAS ALLOWED TO BRING THEIR PERSONAL ARMS WITH THEM, AND WILL HAVE TO RELY ON THEIR INGENUITY AND BATTLE SENSE IN ORDER TO SURVIVE! WILL THE SOLDIER OF THE MODERN AGE END THE SWORD SAINT IN A HAILSTORM OF BULLETS, OR WITH THE KNIGHT WITH A DEATH WISH BRING THE FULL FURY OF THE AGES CRASHING DOWN? DON’T YOU DARE BLINK!” Scipio groaned at the announcer’s theatrics and clichés. ”ARE YOU READY TO WITNESS THE FIGHT OF YOUR LIVES? 3…2…1… FIIIIIGGGGHHHHTTTT!” the announcer screamed the start of battle, confusing Scipio. Where the hell was his opponent? Shouldn’t she- Suddenly in fear for his life, Scipio dove to the side, flattening himself behind a chest- high wall. The angel statue that had been directly behind him exploded right where his head would have been, showering Scipio with shrapnel and plaster dust. Peeking around the corner, Scipio saw a flash of white bounding across the platforms in this snow-colored arena. But most importantly, he saw a flash of light off a scope, and a long black barrel following the blur. Scipio sprinted for the next pillar, spinning around it as 3 shots tracked him down, each perfectly tracing a line towards his head, a new shot ringing out and marking him, no matter how he ducked or dodged. Scipio didn’t stop running until he had put the pillar between himself and ‘Hailstorm.’ Son of a bitch…not only does she have a sniper, but she’s in white…gonna make her hard to track. Dammit! She must know this arena col-aw hell! A blur of motion from the corner of his eye made Scipio floor it for the next obstacle. Moving erratically, Scipio managed to avoid Hailstorm getting a trace on him as he made it to a curved overhand, with only one entrance or exit. Grabbing the edge of the hole, Scipio spun his mass into the hole, reaching safety for a little while. Breathing in deeply, Scipio quickly called up all the information he knew on her weapon of choice, memorized as a rookie merc. Time seemed to slow down as reams of information filled his mind. Okay. Looked like Barrett M82. ‘Light 50,’ for the .50 caliber bullets, anti-materiel rifle that could probably kill a building. No worry of recoil, though shrapnel is a possibility. 10 bullets to a magazine…shit, that’s right, it’s not a bolt action. Okay. Have to get some weapons. There were…two longswords and a claymore right around the entrance of this cave, and looks like a trench knife right in front of me. She’ll have moved somewhere she can nail me from, but I can’t hit her fro- shit, she’ll be right above me. Okay. That’s a bitch and a half, but we can work with it. Hope I ain’t wrong. Unfortunately, Hailstorm was ready and waiting for Scipio’s daring battle plan. Something spherical ricocheted off the wall before him, rolling to his feet. Fuck, grenade! Darting out of the cave like a startled rabbit, scooping up the trench knife, grabbing the claymore by the hilt the moment he left the cave mouth, and using it like a pivot to swing his body out of the kill zone. The grenade erupted, the cave acting as a funnel for the explosion, saving Scipio from a messy death. Ripping the claymore from the ground, Scipio threw it skywards and pocketed the knife as he grabbed the two longswords, slamming each one into a shoulder holster. Rolling forward, Scipio avoided yet another bullet, his animalistic sixth sense just barely keeping him alive. Aw hell, she’s farther than I thought….but not nearly as far as she should be. Catching the claymore as it fell, Scipio dashed at top speed to Hailstorm, claymore trailing behind him like a comet’s tail. Scipio saw the sniper’s barrel home in on him, and swung the claymore upwards, the light glinting from the blade the only way to track it. Metal screeched on metal, and the upper third of the claymore shattered, shorn off by the bullet. But Scipio’s plan had worked, and the tilted sword had managed to deflect the bullet ever so slightly. Leaping into the air, Scipio grabbed the largest piece of the claymore’s tip, and threw it like a shuriken. The deadly shard of metal flew right for Hailstorm’s head, making her duck, and buying Scipio the time he needed. Thrusting upwards, his upward momentum helping compensate for this awkward motion, Scipio impaled the platform Hailstorm stood on, giving him leverage. Flipping his body weight around the sword hilt, Scipio for the first time made it into melee range with his opponent. Bracing himself, Scipio tensed every muscle and pulled swinging the sword upwards through the platform, not so much tearing the blade free as ripping through whatever concrete got in the sword’s way. Roaring like some ancient Viking berserker, torn right from the storybooks, Scipio aimed his swing to split Hailstorm from lips to lips… Only to have his sword deflected and gently turned aside by the Barrett Hailstorm held in her hands. ”You can use ki?” Scipio snarled as he released the claymore, unwilling to allow himself to be off-balanced by its incredible momentum. Hailstorm ignored him as she spun low, muttering, ”Slow is steady…steady is fast…” as she whipped out a pistol, aiming to kneecap Scipio and thus cripple him. Faster than thought, operating on sheer instinct, Scipio whipped out the trench knife, knocking away the pistol as his other arm lunged for Hailstorm herself. ”Steady is slow…and slow is dead!” He roared- before immediately diving off the platform. Hailstorm looked downwards at Scipio, confused. As she did so, she caught the hint of a glint of metal in the corner of her eye. Quickly snapping her head to look, she saw the firing pin of one of the grenades on her vest. Acting without thinking, Hailstorm dropped the heavy sniper rifle and ripped off her combat vest, leaving it on the platform while diving after Scipio. Drawing two SMG’s, she blindfired the weapons below her, providing cover fire and assuring that Scipio couldn’t just wait for her as she fell. Scipio himself cursed as he saw the submachine guns, once again diving out of the way, his plans foiled. Still, something nagged at the back of his mind about this girl…something familiar….No! That’s irrelevant. Kill her before she kills you! Scipio’s instincts screamed at him, and like always, they were the first things he listened to. The moment Scipio heard the *click* of a discarded magazine, he darted forward, drawing both longswords and attacking. Slamming both swords into the ground, Scipio opened by vaulting over them like a pommelhorse, bringing his legs around to deliver a dropkick. Without breaking momentum, Scipio tucked into a ball, speeding up his rotation and making the two swords scything towards Hailstorm that much more deadly. Both attacks were calmly and efficiently parried, Ki flowing through and reinforcing the metal of the SMG’s. Enraged, Scipio continued the attack without break or fear of exhaustion, more a storm of metal than a human. Scipio’s attacks were impossible to predict, Scipio using the swords to support his weight as often as his feet, attacks coming from every which angle, and yet Hailstorm still managed to parry or dodge every attack with the maximum efficiency and minimum of motion. Roaring in frustration, Scipio swung his left-hand blade downwards, the right coming across horizontally to prevent her escape. Hailstorm dove towards Scipio, to make the longswords awkward- -and moved right in range of the palmed trench knife. Releasing his grip on the longsword, Scipio tightened his grip on the trenchknife he had squirreled into his grip in the middle of their earlier exchange. Bringing all his speed to bear, Scipio dragged the knife downwards through the air, the wind shrieking as the knife scythed through. Hailstorm was not able to fully dodge this attack, jerking her head back so it only caused a large scratch down the left side of her face. As she broke their engagement, skipping backwards, William realized that it had a secondary benefit: It removed her mask. Finally, he realized what had been bothering him all this time. ”A-Ash? Ashley?” Scipio stuttered in disbelief. He was treated to a sad smile from the blonde he had been dating for the past week or so, with no explanation as to who she really was or what she was doing here. ”Hello, lover.” Those were her only words before she opened fire with both SMG’s, forcing Scipio to run for cover. ”So, I’d like to apologize here and now for whatever I did wrong, and if you don’t mind, I’d like to know what I did.” He joked, pulling a cavalry saber from the ground beside him as he did so. Scipio took the chance to peer around the corner as he heard Ashley begin to speak: ”Nothing you did, lover. Just wrong place, wrong time.” She moved her hand to her chin, as if to rub away some of the blood. Scipio’s eyes widened as he ducked back behind the pillar, a hail of bullets ensuring his compliance. H-hostage? I’m sure I read that hand sign right, but… then she’s being compelled to fight?” He ducked back out from the pillar, shouting, ”Where?” seemingly in frustration at the magically disappearing Ashley. ”I’ll tell you over my dead body, lover.” Scipio heard, as yet another grenade rolled by his feet. Flashbang. Cover eyes and MOVE! Dropping both swords to cover his ears, Scipio squeezed his eyes tight as he sprinted at top speed, relying on his memory to avoid the obstacle course that was the Graveyard. The flashbang detonated behind Scipio, and the swordsman cried out in pain as a burst from one of the SMG’s nicked his calf, sending him tumbling. Opening his eyes, Scipio quickly dragged himself to cover to examine his injury and the information received. Okay. Injury status: minor. Clipped by stray bullet. Muscular damage minimum. Combat effect: Some pain, unavoidable loss of top speed, still within acceptable range of physical agility. Now, moving on. Scipio thought, ripping off part of his pants leg to make a bandage in this brief interlude in the fight. She can’t tell me where the hostage is. So they have some immediately form of compulsion over her. Mental compulsion unlikely. Someone watching in the audience? Most likely non-military, otherwise he would have understood the hand gesture. Okay. Great. So we *have* to fight. Damn it. Scipio cursed to himself silently, pulling out a survival knife from the wall he had ducked behind. Vaulting over the wall, Scipio prayed that there was only the one sniper rifle in arms reach. Seeing that Ashley had gone through the same thought process he had, rest and regroup, Scipio quickly moved to his right, disappearing into Ashley’s blind spot, caused by the blood dripping past her eye. Not that it helped his case much- she had a shotgun. Desperate to avoid the spreading cloud of buckshot, Scipio kicked off a nearby column, changing his attack angle entirely. Like he was the ball in the world’s most insane game of pinball, Scipio then kicked off the bottom of a nearby platform, redirecting him at Ashley like a kamikaze bomber. Scipio blanked out for a moment, then the next thing he remembered was the pain. His shoulder was on fire, and it grated as he tried to move it. Then Ashley violently wrenched his arm back, and for a moment, all Scipio could think of was the crimson fire. Son of a bitch! Must have been ready for me- disarmed me. Damned knife’s in my shoulder, can’t move it. Gotta distract her someh- The train of thought was paralyzed along with his breathing as he saw his second knife, his bloody knife, at his own throat. That must be one hell of a show for the camcorder. Scipio thought drunkenly, fear of death poisoning his thoughts. ”Nothing personal, lover. But I have to save them.” She whispered. Desperate, both arms useless, Scipio did the only thing he could think to save himself: he bit down on the knife. Knowing his life depended on it, he made his jaws immoveable, ripping the knife from Ashley’s grip, then twisting his head sideways and slamming it down through the back of her hand. Ashley reared back in pain, giving Scipio just enough room to move. Spinning under her, Scipio spat out his mouthful of blood into her good eye, completely blinding her, before delivering a quick elbow to the chin to rock her backwards. Quick as a greased weasel, and twice as slippery, Scipio slid out from under Ashley as she reeled, sending her flying with a double-footed kick, each boot making perfect contact with Ashley’s abdomen as Scipio jackknifed his body to get some power going. His mind blank, his body in complete berserker mode, Scipio ripped the knife from his dead shoulder, gripping it in reverse as he slowly advanced on Ashley. Clearing her eyes, Ashley pulled out a pistol, training the sights on Scipio until he disappeared from view. Faster than she had seen him move before, Scipio was immediately in her face and his knife was in her thigh. Leaving the knife where it was, Scipio slammed his open palm into the muzzle of the gun. With terror in her heart, Ashley heard a tiny *click* as the safety catch locked, rendering the gun useless just as she needed it. Before she could pull out her spare, Scipio had twisted the knife in her leg, paralyzing her with pain. Ever so slowly, he pulled the bloody blade from her thigh, causing her to freeze like a spooked rabbit as he lowered it to her throat. ”Game over, love.” Scipio rasped, in a voice that was both his and yet not. Ashley closed her eyes and offered a silent prayer. ”Kill me now. Do it quickly, please. I beg you, Scipio- I don’t want it to hurt.” A single tear rolled down her face. Like a diver clawing for the surface of the water, Scipio faded back into consciousness, confused as hell at the scene before him. ”Kill you? Wha- no! Just forfeit, and we can both live!” Ashley opened her eyes, full of fury. ”No, we can’t! If you kill me, they’ll be useless. They might be freed.” She hissed in pain. ”No, I-I can’t, love. There’s got to be anoth-“ ”Fine, then I guess I’ll have to kill you!” She screamed, tackling Scipio and reversing their positions, backup pistol in hand and ready to go. Once more acting on instinct, Scipio got his legs between him and Ashley, and pushed. He had intended to get some distance from her, but he hadn’t been paying attention to their location. He was right underneath where he had started the fight, right under the two blades stuck pommel first on the underside of a platform, the very blades Ashley now found herself impaled on. Gravity quickly took over, as Ashley slid off the blades, the steel coming free with a sickening squelch. Scipio caught her, tears in his own eyes. Ash! Ash, my God, I’m so sorry, we’ll get you to a hospital right away and they can-“ Ashley cut him off into stunned silence with a shake of her head. She beckoned him closer, whispering, ”122…Beast Street…” before going silent. His eyes widening, Scipio nodded with sudden conviction, understanding her meaning. He was treated to one final, brilliant smile, before all life left her. Cradling Ashley to his chest, Scipio kissed her rapidly cooling forehead before standing up, her body still cradled against his by his one good arm, like a baby. He walked over to where the victor’s platform waited, and, deciding that would take too long, bunched up his muscles, ignoring his screaming calf, and jumped through, landing heavily on the topside. Scipio motioned for Marcus to come over quickly with his head as the announcer once again began speaking. ”LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, I’M NOT QUITE SURE WHAT WE JUST WITNESSED, BUT WHATEVER IT WAS, I’VE NEVER SEEN A BATTLE QUITE LIKE THAT ONE! I INTRODUCE TO YOU, YOUR NEW CHAMPION… SWORD! SAINT! SCIPIO!!!” Heedless of the adulations of the crowd, Scipio gently handed over Ashley’s body to Marcus. "Take care of her. And grab the belt for me-or don’t. I don’t really care right now. Load me up with one sword, and 10 knives.” Scipio snarled. ”Sure, but where are you going? Kid?” After handing over Ashley, and being rearmed, Scipio completely ignored the bombshell blonde sashaying over to him with the belt high above her head, instead electing to pick up the motorcycle he flew in here on. Against all expectations, it was still fully functional. Revving the engine, Scipio prepared to floor it out the emergency exit, the one that lead directly outside. ”CHAMPION? WHERE ARE YOU GOING? COLLECT YOUR REWARDS AS THE VICTOR!” ”Scipio?” Scipio gunned the engine. ”There’s something I have to do.” ---------------------------------------------- Word Count: 3,547 Words Total Word Count: 12,339 Words Edited by William Scipio, Dec 25 2014, 11:07 AM.
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| William Scipio | Dec 26 2014, 05:45 AM Post #5 |
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Newbie
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Scipio raced through the night, callous of anyone who was stupid or unlucky enough to get in his way, avoiding accidents only by the slightest of margins. The normally calm, collected, and generally carefree William Scipio only had a single thought running laps through his head: Kill. Scipio outright used another car as a ramp to clear an intersection, at a light foolish enough not to be going his way. Those sons of bitches made him murder a girl he actually cared about, a witty girl who didn’t take his shit lying down and would (and could, Scipio thought with a slight smile) fight back. Oh no. There would be no justice or righteousness tonight. There would only be vengeance and retribution, from the divine hand of the Saint himself. As Scipio reached Beast Street, it began raining, a fitting parallel to that night all those weeks ago when Marcus had found him on death’s edge and gave him a new life. About time to return that gift then, huh? He thought, bringing the bike to a screeching halt in front of 122 Beast St. He simply sat there for a moment, taking a deep breath in, examining the massive mansion. Scipio pulled up his hood over his head, mentally preparing himself. Then, snarling like the savage animal he was, Scipio opened the throttle wide, gunning it for the door. At the last second, he threw himself off the bike, rolling to a stop in the gutter as the bike flew through the air and crashed through the door. ”Gaaaahhhh!!” Scipio screamed in pain, his shoulder protesting such treatment. Still, though his body begged him to stop, his feral instinct spurred him on, smelling blood in the air. And soon, it wouldn’t just be his, either. Scipio started laughing, a low, gurgling sound that started just on the edge of hearing. He strode through the door like an avenging angel, a knife in hand, fury in his heart. In the first room, he saw the kilograms of drugs and stockpiles of weapons, as well as the massive plasma screens all focused on fights taking part throughout the city, but most of them were focused on reviewing William and Ashley’s fight. ”Enjoying yourselves, gentlemen?” Scipio roared, before letting loose with a fullisade of knives. Every single one found a target in an eye or a throat, Scipio not missing a single disoriented target. Walking through the new corpses, Scipio ripped out 3 knives from those who had died slumping against a wall or a chair, not bothering to bend down to pick up any other knives. ”What the hell was that?” Someone sprinted behind him. Scipio heard the click of a safety catch. ”This is hell itself!” He snarled, whipping around faster than thought, the knife flying true and catching the man in the shoulder. Scipio drew his longsword and advanced on the peon as the man dropped his uzi in pain. Suddenly lunging forward, like a zombie smelling fresh meat, Scipio thrust forward, pinning the poor man to the wall. Scipio leaned forward, whispering in the man’s ear like a gentle lover. ”Hello there. My name is William Scipio. You know who I am, yes?” he purred. The man shook his heads silently, utter terror in his eyes. Scipio saw a wet stain spread down his pants leg, pooling at his feet. ”Good. That makes this so much easier. If you play along, I might even reward you for good behavior. Unless… you want to end up like them?” Scipio gestured with his head over to the newly made mound of corpses. Scipio was certain the man would take his own head off, he shook it so fast. ”Wonderful. I hoped you would be amenable to my situation. Your organization took something very important from me today, and I intend to exact my blood price. Now, if you would be so kind: where…is your boss?” Scipio asked, in an almost singsong, easygoing kind of voice. ”C’mon man, I-I can’t d- AAAAAGGGHHHH!!!” The man shrieked in terror as Scipio casually twisted the blade around, as disinterested as he would be picking lint off his shirt. ”I’m so sorry, but that’s the wrong answer. Think for a moment, Mr. Corpse-to-be. Your boss is not here. I am. I’m the one impaling you like a bug right now. So think about your future very carefully, and TELL ME WHAT I WANT TO KNOW!” All semblance of honey gone from his voice, Scipio roared in the gangster’s face, the depths of his anger revealed. ”Oh-Oh God! Okay! He-He’s in the Safehouse, in a conference! Through the house, out the back into the garden! Trapdoor under the-gah! Angel s-s-statue. Pull the wing.” He said, sobbing. ”There! That wasn’t so bad, now was it?” Scipio smiled sweetly, once again all honey and softness. ”Oh-oh God, just-just let me go, p-p-please.” He sobbed. Scipio cocked his head to the side, confused. ”Why would I do that? I promised you a reward, didn’t I? Take it!” Ripping the blade out of the man’s shoulder, Scipio spun around, widening the original would, before creating a mirror wound in the other shoulder, then stabbing down twice to cripple both legs. Scipio sheathed his sword before walking over to his motorcycle and ripping out the fuel block, ignoring the man’s screams ”Anyone else in the building?” Scipio asked conversationally as he scythed a hole through the container, then began sprinkling the fuel liberally around the man, before dousing him in gasoline as well. ”T-there’s just the boss…and the operations room upstairs. Soundproof, maybe…20 people closing deals? P-please. Don’t do it man. I know what y-y-you’re thinking, please don’t..do..it!” He cried. Heedless, even whistling a jaunty tune, Scipio took out a lighter and taped it on. He put it in the dealer’s right hand, closing the man’s hand around it, before taking out a knife and slicing the tendons in his forearm. Scipio stood back up, admiring his work, sauntering back over to his motorcycle as he did so. ”Now, I’m not going to do anything. You are. As part of your reward, you get to control whether you live or die. Just keep that flame outta the gasoline until it dies out, and you live. Drop it, and, well…you get the idea. Of course, I’ve crippled all four limbs, and I’ve weakened your grip strength severely, so you really gotta want it. But hey, it wouldn’t be a challenge if it wasn’t hard, right?” Scipio casually made his way upstairs with the motorcycle, using its desiccated and dismantled body to block the door and lock in the 20 dealers upstairs. As he hustled back down the stairs, Scipio grinned and gave a thumbs up to his poor victim, completely ignoring his pleas for forgiveness. ”You’re doing great, man! Just keep holding up that flame!” Scipio skipped out the back door and into the garden, the screams dying immediately behind him as the door closed. Ooohhh, everything is soundproof here. Swanky. He thought as he headed towards the angel statue. Standing quietly before the statue, Scipio cocked his head, sheathing the longsword. Shrugging, he pulled on both wings, snapping them off with force before kicking the statue, pulverizing it and revealing the staircase beneath. Two more good kicks obliterated what was left of the stone, giving Scipio easy entrance. Slicing down the door like it was never there in the first place, Scipio found himself walking down a long, poorly lit hall with a single door at the end. He could faintly hear voices coming from the room at the end of the hall. ”Now, as I was saying, this Scipio is some kinda freak o’ nature. He can beat guns with swords. Goddamn swords. Do you know how much a kid like that’s worth? If we can just find something to blackmail him with, he could be an incredible moneymaker." ”Nevermind moneymaker, I want to examine this child’s DNA, see what possibly allows him to so easily surpass his human limits. We could potentially breed a new race of superhuman soldiers, sell them for millions to the top buyer.” ”Now we only need some way to hold him under our thumbs, bring him to us, as it were.” Furious, Scipio kicked down the wrought-iron door, snarling, ”It’s your lucky day, fuckers! Here I am!” The last speaker spun around to face Scipio, while the other speakers, all hologram projections, looked up to view the intruder with interest. ”You. You took something of mine. I’m here to exact my price.” The man before him raised a single eyebrow at the dying swordsman before him. ”Excuse me? Ah, Mr. Scipio. My name is Haverford. It’s a pleasure to meet the legendary ‘Sword Saint’ in person. Now, I presume you caught onto our little gambling operation, and want a cut of the profits. Very well. How does…10% sound? 10% could set you up very comfortably for a very long time. No? You are a wealthy man to begin with, I’m told. 10% must seem a pittance to you. 20% should do it.” Scipio smiled ferally, his bloodstained teeth causing the uppity little man in his sparkling white suit to step back, unnerved. ”You took my Ashley from me. I liked that girl. And blood shall pay for blood.” Scipio said, his vision beginning to blur from blood loss. ”Blood shall pay for blood-pfft. What a ridiculous notion. These are more civilized times, Mr. Scipio. No longer are we in the age of the barbarian and weregild. Money washes clean all sins.” Scipio shook his head sadly and advanced, silent but steady. Frightened, the man stepped back, whipping out a little remote control. ”Stay where you are, Mr. Scipio! Unless you want your precious Ashley’s family blown to pieces,” Haverford snapped his fingers and a light turned on in the next room. Just like a goddamn comic book villain, Scipio thought derisively, as the light revealed the wall behind Haverford to be a two way mirror. Scipio could see a man, woman, and two younger children on the otherside, all blindfolded, tied up, gagged, and deafened. They really took no chances here. ”You’ll do as I say. Disarm and stand away from your weapons.” Scipio laughed, a quiet, sickening sound that built up to full out hysterics. ”What? What is so funny?” Haverford demanded. Calming down, Scipio smiled beatifically at the businessman. ”Oh, my dear Mr. Haverford. Do you think I care about the family? There was only one of that bloodline I cared for, and she’s dead. A little more or little less blood on your hands only serves to make your punishment more severe. For blood will pay for blood, Mr. Haverford, no matter the sacrifices.” Scipio continued to advance. ”Fine, then their blood is on yo- AAAAAHHHH!” The man screamed, as a knife flew from Scipio’s hand and appeared in Mr. Haverford’s forearm, the force blowing his arm backwards. Five more daggers quickly followed suit, each slicing off at the knuckles one of the fingers that held the remote. The whole scene stood there in blessed silence for a moment, broken only by the cascading objects falling to the ground. Sound was quick to snap back into the picture, however, as the screaming began. ”You goddamn psychopath! My hand!” At that point, Scipio snapped. A dagger flew into each knee, and another one found a new home in the man’s good shoulder. ”I’m the psychopath? You, who kidnapped a family and forced a girl to fight to the death for them, you who deals death and drugs on the streets constantly, you who stirs up strife. And I’m the psychopath? Perhaps you’re right- but I don’t want to be hearing that term from your hypocritical tongue. Now shut up.” Scipio strode over to the two way mirror, drawing his sword. With smooth, practiced motions, he cut a doorway into the mirror that was perfectly in line with the hallway. Going over to the father of the family, Scipio took off his earmuffs, speaking quickly. ”Be silent. I’m a friend of Ashley’s. I’m going to untie you and your family. You are to all leave the blindfolds on, for our safety and for yours. Their headphones stay on as well. You only have to walk straight to get out- you can take off everything when you ascend the staircase. From there, flee out the back, away from the house. The cops will be here soon enough, I suppose. Understand? Good.” Scipio cut the family free, watching them to make sure they got out alright. Nodding to himself, Scipio sauntered back into the conference room, where his captive audience waited with bated breath. ”So sorry about that, hate to keep you waiting and all. Now-“ Scipio spitted Haverford on the end of his sword, pinning him to the ground like a butterfly on a taxidermist’s board, eliciting a new round of screaming. ”Please, what’s the name of your organization? I want to know so I can destroy every brick you’ve built up on the suffering of others.” Haverford spat blood at Scipio, a final act of defiance. ”Ha-we’re…the Killamame. Bas-TAAAAAAGGGHHHH!” Scipio surgically twisted his sword on the way out, before cutting most of Haverford’s thigh muscles. The blade re-pinned this man, this time just below the heart. ”I’m no longer a child to believe in such things, thank you. This is not a hard question, Mr. Haverford. Tell me what I want to know, and I’ll let you die. Stomach acid eating away at your organs is incredibly painful, so I’ve heard, and it’s the fate that awaits you should I remove this blade. Now, I’ll ask you again: What. Is the name. Of your organization?” ”We are the Order of the Golden Dawn.” Scipio turned around innocently, removing his sword and leaving Haverford to his promised slow death. ”What was that? Scipio asked innocuously. ”You asked the name of our Order. Now you have it, child.” Scipio shook his head, clearing the fuzz clouding his thoughts. ”So civil of you, merchant of death.” Scipio looked at the hologram before him, a muscular tiger of a man in the late prime of his life. ”Glad you’ve decided to make this easy. I’ll be sure to grant you a better death than this, friend.’ Scipio motioned to the scene of death and destruction around him. He held on to consciousness through sheer force of will, those his vision was slowly tuning out, black static swimming across his sight. ”Wash your neck and wait. I’m coming for you, bastard.” Scipio smirked evilly. The man examined Scipio from head to toe. ”No, I don’t think you will be.” He declared, before the hologram winked from existence, like the resolution on a bad television. Scipio slowly made his way down the hallway, his hand on the wall for support, his sword throwing up sparks as it scratched across the concrete ground. Making it up the stairs, Scipio paused to rest. No, I don’t think I will be making it, after all. Damn. Scipio thought, a wan smile on his face as he settled down on the shattered remains of the statue, stabbing his sword into the stone to stabilize himself. The rain pattered on his face, and the acrid smell of smoke wafted past his nostrils, causing a grin even as the light faded from his eyes. The poor dealer apparently didn’t like life enough after all. As Scipio slowly felt his consciousness slip into the ether, he had one final thought flit across his mind: Ash, I’m sorry. This was the best I could do. I hope it was enough. …I’m sorry, Ash. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Scipio slowly faded back into consciousness to the sound of machine humming and a constant, steady beep. He raised himself up, wondering what had happened until a familiar voice reached his ears. ”Hey hey hey kid, whoa there. It’s me, champ, it’s Marcus. You’re safe here. Everything’s alright, champ.” Scipio tried to speak, and found his throat wouldn’t make noise. Marcus handed him a cup of water, and Scipio nodded his silent thanks as he slowly and painfully drank it down. Finally able to speak, Scipio rasped, ”What…happened?”” Marcus grimaced. ”I…had one of my men follow you. I thought it was weird how you up and left like that, so I decided to keep a tab on you. He picked you up shortly before the police came. There was a fire within that house, so no suspects, no prints. Just charcoal.” Marcus leaned forward, moaning slightly as he did so, suddenly aging a century and a half in that single second. ”Now my turn, kid: why’d you run like that? What happened?” Scipio sighed, preparing himself. That entire night, he had been on autopilot, having given himself entirely into the rage. He was just now coming to terms with what he had done with that night, and he still wasn’t sure whether to hate or praise himself over it. ”Hailstorm…was Ashley. The girl I’d …been seeing off and on? She…was being forced to fight….family were held hostage. Kill…or be killed. Simple as. She had found…their location. Told me before…I killed her. Raided the place. Killed…every last one of them. Blood…for blood." Marcus nodded, and got up to leave. ”Alright, kid. I get it. Get some rest. We’ll talk later, when you’re healthy again.” The military giant made as if to walk out the door. ”Marcus?” Marcus paused at the door frame of the underground hospital. ”Yeah, kid?” Scipio laid back down, staring at the ceiling. ”When…when I walked into that house…there were ‘round 30 living people.” Scipio confessed, his voice getting stronger as the story continued. ”When the fire started, there would still have been 20, maybe 21 alive. Every last one of them burnt alive, unable to even fight back, just waiting for the flames like lambs at the slaughter. I've killed before, you know that. But never people who couldn't fight back. But…this time, I did, and I enjoyed it. It felt like being…some kind of god, meeting out divine vengeance. It was incredible. And I should hate myself for it, but I can’t.” Marcus leaned against the doorframe, sighed as he slowly pivoted around the wall to face Scipio. ”Way I see it, kid, you’re powerful. One of the most powerful things I’ve ever seen. But that power… well, guys like us, we know that power gives you the ability imperative to do what you want, take what you desire, and destroy and damn everything else. But what guys like us don’t realize…is that you gotta ask yourself, ‘just because I got this almighty power, does that mean I got the right to use it as I see fit?’ And the rest of us mortals just gotta pray you pick the right answer.” Scipio was quiet for a moment, considering the weighty words floating in the air between them. Finally, with trembling voice, Scipio murmured, "Marcus…we’re not good people…are we?” Marcus smiled sorrowfully, pulling a chair under him, plans of leaving forgotten. The pair sat there in stony silence, before Marcus spoke up. "No kid, no we ain’t.” -------------------------------------------------------- Word Count: 3170 Words Final Total Word Count: 15,509 Words Edited by William Scipio, Dec 26 2014, 06:54 AM.
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| Vegeta | Dec 28 2014, 02:02 PM Post #6 |
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Prince of Saiyans
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Power Level: 561,875 Zeni: 15,500 TP: 22.475 |
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12:35 PM Jul 13