Author: admin

Welcome back to day two of The Indian Bachelorette. After meeting all the eligible bachelors, it’s time for Vinaya to choose her first date – who she picks is a pleasant surprise…

Scene change to Vinaya’s narration interview

Vinaya: “They say nice guys finish last, but as feminist activist, of course I’m gonna buck the trend!

So Prasadh invited me over for a home cooked meal as our first date. I absolutely LOVE a man that can cook and clean – such a turn on….”

Scene change to Prasadh

Prasadh: “Wow, I was in shock, I never get picked first! I felt like my luck had finally turned!

So I decided to invite her over for dinner. I would have preferred taking her out to some place nice, but my sister and mother insisted I finish up all the chores….well anyway, I’m really looking forward to having another woman boss me around in the house!”

scene change to the date

Prasadh: “Well Vinaya, lovely to have you over. I hope you like vegetables, because the entree tonight will be a Ceasar salad – without dressing, the main is a tofu based chicken breast and for dessert a glass of almond milk”

Vinaya: “……..Is there any meat?…….”

Prasadh: “ernggg….the only meat I have is a sausage….but the sausage is rotting and has..unghh…putrid skin…”

*scene change to Vinaya”

Vinaya: “OMG! What. A. Disaster! The meal was terrible and had no meat whatsoever.”

An interesting first date for Vinaya and Prasadh. Will the two potential lovebirds be able to work out their culinary differences? Tune in next time, on the Indian Bachelorette.

Up Next – The Next Date

Meet this season’s bachelors, all competing to win Vinaya’s heart.

Surath “Magnum XXL” D

A 30 year old accountant, who still lives with his parents. He has a naive boyish charm, and is a real animal lover – specifically for cats. Quite shy at first, but has a hidden “package”, which he hopes will set him apart. The dark horse.

Prasadh

An all round super nice guy. Extremely intelligent, has a well paying job and great with housework. Is a real catch on paper, but for some reason, always finishes last.

Arnav Casemiro

At first glance a charming, romantic and athletic man in the prime of his life. Is he really what he seems to be, or is it a facade? Is he Prince Charming or is he really just a sleazeball looking for sex.

Saravana

The oddball of the group. He seems to have no real interest in going on dates. Spends most of his time making sarcastic, barely coherent quips.

Who will Vinaya choose? Find out next time on The Indian Bachelorette!

Up Next – Day 2

It was the eerie darkness before the dawn on the suburban street of Privet Drive. A chill breeze was blowing and the streets were still coated in darkness. One old man, dark of skin and with a long white beard stood there serenely. Looking into the stars, while gently caressing his belly.

The old man waited patiently in the darkness. His glasses reflected the full moon as his gaze was fixed. He was staring at a spec that was closing in from the skies, slowly coming to shape. A figure was flying towards him.

A short, robustly built man was flying through the sky riding a small cat – gliding serenely through the cloudless skies towards the old man. He was carrying something small in each of his arms.

The Man landed roughly causing the small cat he was atop to screech and scratch at him.

“Sugrid… you have him with you?” Whispered the old man, calmly.

“Ay – Professor Dumblethasan” Said Sugrid, revealing a pillow clutched firmly to bosom.

“No – not your pillow,. Fool!. The boy, Sugrid!?” Responded the Professor.

Sugrid recoiled timidly.

The cat Sugrid had flew in on suddenly transformed into another man.

Minerprasath SubraGonigal sprang to life. “Heaah…Damn You Sugrid! Freaking Gimp…” He said, before turning his attention to the old man.

“Pralbus – his parents are dead. He who must not be named has fallen!” Said SubraGonigal.

Professor Pralbus Dumblethasan stared knowingly back with watery eyes.

“Nnngh….yea..” he said, making a gesture with his right hand as if obvious, “But he will return …one day”

“Are you sure you want to leave the boy here, Pralbus? These are the worst sort of muggles.”  commented SubraGonigal.

The door they looked upon read..

“Pathan Family Residence – Vernon, Petunia and Shahab Dursley. 4 Privet Drive, Homebush.”

There was an odd sound coming from Sugrids non-pillow wielding hand. A frantic, ruffling sound.

The three companions curiously opened up the cloth that was hiding what was in Sugrids other arm.

The little, chubby, cherub faced baby revealed himself. He was gleaming at them cheekily. Sweat dripping down his forehead. His hand was frantically moving up and down near his groin.

“He has been cursed.” Said Professor Dumblethasan, looking tentatively at the young masturbating infant.

They left him by the door. Knowing that his years would be tough. Knowing that he was destined for more…when the time came. And how all in their world would know his name….

And so began the saga…of…

“Kula Potter-Baba….The Boy who Fapped!”

Harry Potter Theme

“Get in the Fokkin’ Cab, Cuz. I told you it’s on me…” said Arnie Montana, “Get in ya Fokkin’ Kentz! The Cab is on me. Y’all know me. All I got in this world is my balls and my word. And I don’t break em’ for no one.”

Arnie Montana rose up from humble beginnings in the land of Cuba. There were a few important details that defined the man. The enigma… that was… Arnie Montana. He was always busy. His location always undisclosed. Whether he was chilling with his boys at home, doing a few recreational activities at the local watering hole or simply buying himself some food at the local market place. Location – undisclosed. He was a man of mystery. He liked it that way.

There was uneasiness and tension amongst the group of 3 men. Mr Montana was not such a generous man and they all knew it. Each man eyed the other with an air of dissatisfaction. Someone was going to have to bite the bullet here. Someone was going to lose some money tonight. And it wasn’t Arnie Montana.

The three amigos resigned themselves to their fate, each of them deep in thought of an escape route. It had been a big night of drinking and few of them had it in them to continue on, but there was no escape from Arnie Montana.

The taxi was full, and the drive was turning out to be a long one. No one knew the destination, except the man on the front. Arnie Montana – who at that very moment was on one of his long winded preaches of how useless everyone else was.

“You Fokkin’ boys are a bunch of cheapskates, the lotta ya!”, he rambled on, “There’s 3 things you idiots need to learn about life. Don’t beg anyone…don’t trust anyone…and don’t expect anything from anybody”.

The Cab slowly pulled over near some unknown bar. None of the boys in the backseat wanted to be there. They eyed each other cautiously and looked at the bill. $123.45. The events that followed his last line were most befitting.

“Cuz…I got the last round of drinks. Can you get this cab ride?” He turned to the back.

All the boys were gone. They had leaped out of the car and sprinted away from sight.

“So that’s how it is huh!” screamed Arnie Montana out the window, “I’m ARNIE MONTANA…You Fokk with me, you Fokkin’ with the best!”.

There was an awkward silence. All that was left was the cab driver and Arnie Montana.

“See…the thing is Cuz…I got no money”.

Legacy of the “One Punch Man”

Since ancient times, there was a prophecy passed down from generation to generation in a small village in Colombo, Sri Lanka – telling of the birth of a boy whose anger was so raw and unfathomable, that if left untamed, would consume the world in a blaze of fiery destruction. The aforementioned was colloquially dubbed “The Enraged One”, and was predicted to be born in the month of May under most dire circumstances at some time in the late twentieth century. It was a bedtime story told to children who threw tantrums to scare them straight.

Nobody would have suspected that when Habaz Valentine was born – that the very one they were taught to fear had finally arrived, for his deceptively small size let him escape the notice of his peers.

As the young boy grew up, he was innately prone to violence and easily provoked by those twice and thrice his size. Yet fear was something the angry little man was born without. It was strength he lacked and so he remained hidden to the world for years to come until his late teenage years. Until that faithful night…

“All hail TYG”, roared a moving crowd, “All Hail the leader – All hail – Raj Himzamam-Ul-Haq!”. There was a large congregation walking through the streets of Colombo in the dark of night. The infamous street gang known as TYG– a strange and ancient cult – had taken over the streets in celebration of their “Birth Moment of Raj”. They were best known for their unique bylaws, the most unusual of which was that members could only marry their cousins – in order to maintain the purity of their bloodline. They were carrying their leader, ruthless businessman and enigmatic venture capitalist – Raj Himzamam-Ul-Haq on a chair mounted on a slab of wood. He was known to many as the Donald Trump of Sri Lanka. The term Raj was used here to signify a position of leadership and power.

This night was the annual celebration that was held by TYG celebrating the birth of their fearless leader. It was unfortunate for this group, that Habaz Valentine was at the local watering hole – soon to discover the true monstrosity of his hidden power. He was enjoying his first taste of hard liquor with his close friend, and starting to feel the effects. It was glorious until someone interrupted them.

A dark, large and crazed TYG fanatic entered the watering hole with a bold declaration. “There will be no alcohol consumed this night! This is BMR! I demand you close the premises.” He commanded. Habaz rose angrily, slightly unsteady on his feet. His speech was slurred, his movements shaky. His outrage was infinite.

“What!!!,” he screamed, before babbly incoherently, “Yeez ceentt.!! Whzz the fkkn ?! Smashh!!?”

It happened in a blur. The bar crowd was stunned. A small drunken man had taken out a man twice his size in a single, brutal blow. What was more – he was a member of TYG. These members may not have been known for their courage, but they had sheer numbers. More men ran in to their comrade’s aid, and each was knocked out in an instant by the mighty mini-warrior. King hit after king hit. A woman who seemed to have been with them looked on helplessly, but didn’t seem upset by the incident. Habaz had made his mark that night…before passing out.

He soon made his strength into a profession – a back alley street fighter. His reputation grew quickly as the undefeated street fighter of Colombo and was reaching ears everywhere in the underground. He even found himself a loyal girlfriend who remembered him from that faithful night at the pub, when she was accompanying one of the men he knocked out. Felicia was her name. She was a member of TYG, but against her own will at the command of Raj Himzamam-Ul-Haq. Habaz had liberated her, and in doing so violated their most sacred bylaw.

It didn’t take long before word reached the Raj’s ears and he was summoned for a meeting at the grand palace in the centre of Colombo. He went with Felicia by his side. She was worried about what might happen. She thought she had escaped the archaic rule of TYG but it was all a matter of time before worlds collided.

Raj Himzamam-Ul-Haq sat smugly behind his corporate desk in a large office styled room. He was on the highest floor of the palace.  A wad of cash sat in front of him – on offer to Habaz to give his consent to allow Felicia to marry one of her cousins against her will. A second wad was thrown on the desk, so Habaz would join TYG as its enforcer. The whole world would soon be forced to marry their cousins.

Habaz looked at the money, then at the teary eyed Felicia. Then…he pulled out a bottle of Jim Bean. There was not even a moment of hesitation.

Panic struck Himzamam-Ul-Haq. “Wait a moment…there will be ramifications! Don’t you fear the world?!” he screamed, fear in his voice. Habaz skulled some Jim Bean and turned his red eyes on the Raj.

Himzamam-Ul-Haq recoiled in fear – he had misjudged his opponent. Habaz couldn’t be bought or reasoned with. He was a young man of pure instinct and unfathomable rage. Why… the very prospect of a bribe made Habaz upset. He drank deeply…and his eyes reddened.

Habaz used his alcohol fuelled aggression to sink his fist into Himzamam-Ul-Haqs right jaw. There was a savage crunching sound as the leader of TYG flew out the window to his gruesome demise. And with that – he took control of the dark syndicate known as TYG and abolished its most coveted rule – to only marry thy cousins – So that he could be with the mysterious Felicia.

And so began a new era and the rise of the angry President of the TYG. The Peoples champion.

Habaz Valentine went out the Raj’s Palace balcony to see all of TYG waiting patiently outside. They looked down upon the corpse of their tyrannical ruler and back up at Habaz.

“Fear the world?! Let the world fear me…I am Habaz…Fukin’… VALENTINE!!!” roared Habaz in a borderline drunken stupor. He then passed out. Felicia was crying at his stupidity, but glad to be free of the age old bylaws of TYG. TYG was now the property of Habaz. It was liberated.

And so began the story…of…

The One Punch Man. Raj Habaz Valentine

 

Up Next: Back to the story – Merciless Mortal Combat

Emergence of the Dish-Washer

The once great city of Eastwood was a place few in this world ventured into willingly. Rumoured to have once been a beautiful and coveted location, the city was now an alcove composed of despicable wasteland where only the very strong or subservient survived. Sadly, the category one fell into was a birth right dictated by gender.

It was a land known as the “Great Matriarchy” for much of the outer world. Men here were born for one purpose – to serve and obey.  It had been conquered late in the Sixteenth century by a group of elite warriors known as Amazonian women of Lenka and their rule was absolute.

Every morning the men would wake, serve breakfast to the women and spend the remainder of their day doing chores. Cleaning, washing the dishes and cooking were just a few of their many daily tasks. They would go by the Morning Prayer.

“Hail to Women, the bringers of life
For a man isn’t a man, without a wife
Glory to the leaders of the human race,
Where women rule and men are a disgrace”

This prayer of sorts was ended by the men, on their knees uttering the phrase,

“Heaaahh…”

It was a sign as an almost subservient sigh of one accepting their fate.

Furthermore, the males of this matriarch society were confined to a purely vegetarian diet as meat was attributed as a source of evil and villainy when consumed by a man, fuelling his desire for violence and rebellion. It was a truly monstrous land.

This was the land that Prasadh Angada was born, and the legend of his emergence was spoken in hush whispers amongst the still enslaved men to this very day…

“Prasadh! Clean those dishes, and go out and wash my car!” yelled Mrs Angada, Prasadh’s mother.

“Prasadh! Go clean my room” yelled Ms Angada, Prasadh’s Sister.

“Heaahh…”sighed Prasadh, before resigning himself to his chores.

This was the only life Prasadh Angada had ever known. That of a chore-boy. But he always had big dreams. He carried with him a strong desire to one day escape the world of subservience – and away from the shadow of the matriarchy. Prasadh often tried to escape the drudgery of life by hiding in the nearby forests before he would receive threatening phone calls from all the women in his life. “Do this…Do that…” They’d all say.

“Heahh…” he’d reply.

One day – a man interrupted Prasadh’s solitude.

A wayward traveller was passing through the suburb and had avoided the watchful eye of the Amazonian women. He introduced himself to Prasadh as “Vamadeva” – the wandering maths tutor. He spoke of all the great cities he had seen and their unique cultures. Prasadh started to look to him as a father figure. Several weeks went by and Vamadeva would meet with Prasadh once a week to share a few new tales each time.

These stories made Prasadh’s chores go easier. The unreasonable commands seemed tolerable. Life seemed brighter for the young vegetarian.

Then arrived that fateful day. Preceding the daily Morning Prayer, there was an announcement from the City leaders. They had captured a male infidel who had been rumoured to have been spreading heresy and lies. Prasadh looked up worried to see his good friend on a crucifix, naked and still. The life had long since left him.

Prasadh was at his breaking point. Defiance was emerging from within. Despite his life-long vegetarianism, he felt anger surge from deep within. Stories of the outside world had gripped him. The wayward traveller who had done nothing wrong – and yet had now been executed by the cruel Woman he served. He rose to his feet, and ran into the woods where he often took refuge – an overt act of disobedience. He was followed by the strongest warrior women from his city. He would be punished severely…if he intended on going back or getting caught. Prasadh wanted freedom. Once he was in the safety of his forest, he dug around for his stashed escape bag for a rainy day or a day he longed for where he would achieve his dream to leave. It contained a few dozen carrots and a soccer ball. All the young man loved in life.

He reached within and grabbed a carrot.

“aaannnhhhh!!” He moaned, flinging the carrot in his hand with monstrous force. All those years washing cars, scrubbing toilets and above all else – Washing dishes had given Prasadh the forearm strength of a chronic masturbator. He had somehow ascended despite the vegetarian diet he was subject to from birth.

The carrot impaled the large woman closest to him who had tried to bend PC to her will. Suddenly they all swarmed in on him, the women could not stand for male rebellion. They were angry, but so was Prasadh. Prasadh started utilising the sweeping motion of washing dishes to throw wild right hooks. Nifty mini-jabs from how he scrubbed toilets. It was poetry in motion as the once broken vegetarian took down one women after another. He pulled out his old dish wiping towel from his pocket and wore it like a bandana. He was winning against all odds until she arrived.

His Sister emerged from the woods. Prasadh Angada had lived in her shadow his entire life. Done all her chores, all the while lamenting on not being born a woman. The whole nine yards. And here she stood – broomstick in hand, ready to dish out a beating to the young dish washer.

Prasadh took his stance. He ripped his shirt off. They stared into each other’s eyes, his sister ominously waving the broomstick. It was now or never…

He grabbed his bag full of carrots and a soccer ball; and ran off on a journey of self-discovery. He couldn’t face his sister.

“Heaahhhhhhh!!” he screamed as he ran like the wind. An act of cowardice scarring his previous displays of vengeance and strength.

Unaware of the warrior he would one day become…

The Future Fighting Champion of the World

 

Up Next: An Origin Story – Habaz Valentine and the Rise of TYG

Eye to eye. Toe to toe. Champion vs. Champion. Adrenaline peaked in the great arena. The Crowd was in a state of pure ecstasy.

The dead, lifeless grey eyes of KD peered soullessly into Prasadh Angada. Prasadh Angada’s watery eyes glistened back at KD. The crowd was roaring, but the mind of Prasadh Angada was filled with a serene calm.

Shabz was standing in KD’s corner, whip in hand and a cunning smugness etched into his face. Prasadh Angada stood alone. The World was against him. He would not have chosen to have it any other way.

*DING DING* Fight 3 – Round 1

Both fighters raced their way to the middle. Prasadh Angada wasted no time, and went for his crux. His go-to move. The move he had used to eliminate Vinnie Balboa years ago. A move he had refined and mastered to whole new heights.

“Dish-Washer Punch!!!” roared Prasadh, launching the finely tuned sweeping motion at KD’s head.

One ferocious Hit. A perfect connection.

KD’s entire body swung around 180 degrees, before collapsing into a heap. The count began and the crowd roared.

1….2….3

Prasadh Angada returned to his corner to go celebrate with a nice, juicy carrot.

4…5…

He took a carrot out of his ruck sack and took a good, hardy bite. Crunching into its, red glorious juices. Shabz stood stoically, biding his time as if knowing the end to an already written story.

6…7…*WHIP*

The sound of a crackling whip making contact with the boxing mat pierced the cheering crowd.

The Crowd went mute. A hush, dead silence gripped the audience swept the entire stadium, Prasadh turned…the half carrot in his hand dropped from his shock.

KD was on his feet. Completely undamaged, the same cold, deadness in his eyes.

Round 1 continued.

Shabz was smiling, as if orchestrating the spectacle for the benefit of the crowd.

“Scrubbing the toilet!!” roared Prasadh, throwing swift jabs at KD. He avoided most of them easily enough, but the ones that landed seemed to inflict no damage.

“Cleaning the car!”

“Taking out the trash!”. Prasadh grabbed KD’s arm and slung him over his head like a wrestler. He thudded hard against the ground, but arose immediately and unscathed.

30 seconds remained in the round, and KD was completely impassive. Then Shabz began to bark orders from the sidelines.

“Get him Rat…GET HIM NOW!” yelled Shabz from the sidelines, his whip connecting with the ground again and again.

KD went on the offensive. Charging on command.

KD with the left. KD with the right hook. KD with the uppercut. Left hook. Right jab.

Prasadh was forced into the corner of the ring. His face bloody, his nose broken. His left eye had a bad cut. He could barely defend himself from the incoming rampage.

Left jab to the face. Hook to the face. Right hook to the midsection…and again…and again. Prasadh was coughing up blood now. This had turned into barbaric mortal combat, and all too one-sided in a flash.

“He’s getting killed out there…somebody needs to stop this!!!”cried Vinnie, watching from the audience. With genuine concern for the life of his respectable former adversary, he looked on helplessly.

Saralax stared on while lost in deep thought. He had even stopped eating, and had a look none had ever seen on his face. A look of serious contemplation deep in his eyes.

Prasadh Angada was getting thrashed into oblivion. It had been under 30 seconds of the first round when KD had begun his assault – and survival itself in this round seemed near impossible.

“Running away from my sister…!” squealed Prasadh in desperation, fleeing from the corner he was pinned to with his nifty little escape manoeuvre.

KD kept the chase up though, and wouldn’t let up. He just kept chopping away at Angada’s mid-section. Thirsty seconds had changed the game. Each hit seemed to be causing agonizing pain to the hardened Vegetarian. His ribs were surely shattered by the sheer brutality.

Prasadh Angada could barely stand by the time the sweet bell rang.

*Ding*

Prasadh struggled to his corner. His body felt like it had been hit by a freight train. The break was not enough to recover. KD just stood there – glaring at him with an emptiness in his eyes. A brainless monster. Was it pride that kept him going? Idiocy? Was this the end…

*Ding Ding* Round 2

Prasadh looked fearfully and teary eyed at his zombie-like opponent – horrified. A normal human being would not have withstood the attacks Prasadh had thrown. What was this monstrosity…this KD?!

“Heaaahh…” muttered Prasadh, abjectly.

… KD closed in, aggression in his cold dead eyes.

…

“Heaaahh…” he muttered again, a bit of whininess in his tone.

…

…KD was staring Prasadh in the eye, fist clenched and winding up for a king hit.

…

“I give up…” Prasadh muttered.

The crowd was stunned. It was over, albeit anti-climactically.

~

The events that had transpired in the days fight had been etched into every remaining fighters mind. How insanely powerful the champion was, not one of them had seen coming. Vinnie was nervous in his lodgings. Should he survive in his battle with Habaz the next morning, his enemy would be either Saralax or KD. Winning it all seemed further from sight than ever.

That night, Saralax received mysterious summons from the tournament organisers. There were several guard sent to escort him to a meeting room in the outskirts of the island – far into the forestry. It was a good 30 minute walk and Saralax was quick to temper with this inopportune intervention to his meal time. To be fair to the guards – All times of day were considered meal time to the heart, rotund warrior.

The Cat Sage and Missy were ever vigilant, watching from the rooftop of the Fighters lodging as Saralax departed with his escorts. Missy was getting the stroking of a lifetime from the wizened master.

The meeting was in a very basic interrogation room. 1 door and no tables or chairs.

Saralax was surrounded by at least 8 guards, and in front of him stood Shabz. A serious look in his eye.

“We have heard a rumour that you have been caught in heinous acts of perversions with McDonalds Big Macs. Licking them…touching them…pro-creating with them.”

Shabz had a serious glint in his eye. Time for the devastating coup de grace from the master wordsmith.

“You should know, Saralax – that we do not allow such perversions in our tournament.” said Shabz, somehow maintaining a serious conviction.

Saralax stood stunned for a second or two.

“Gobba’, me ears – sometime thee hearing comes n’ goes. I mustn’ have heard thee?” asked Saralax, thinking he clearly misunderstood what Shabz was saying.

“Stop having sex with Big Macs, Saralax. Or you will be disqualified from the tournament. Is that clear enough for you, you oversized butterball” commanded Shabz.

Saralax snapped and pounced at the pudgy Fight Promoter. The guards were on him before he could reach his mark. Abusing him down with batons. Beaten, bloodied up, and bruised – he struggled back to his feet and managed to subdue the armed guards.

A few brutal knock out punches and a body slam or two – and he was free. He was Saralax! these weaklings had no chance. Shabz was screaming in panic for more guards, and he could hear the footsteps of too many men approaching him. Saralax hesitated. For a moment he considered ending it all. Going for the head and eliminating the cornered Shabz. No, vengeance would have to wait.

Saralax burst out the door and made for the exit.

He was surrounded by at least 50 men. One on fifty. In the middle of a dark forest – far from any help. This looked like it could be Saralax’s last clash. But he would make the Gods remember his name!

He fought man after man, but things seemed bleak as Saralax grew weary. He would get hit from behind, the sides and each person he took down was immediately replaced by two.

But when all hope seemed loss, The Cat Sage arrived. Slashing, dodging and ripping through the sea of people like knife through butter. The greatest little martial artist the world had never seen was an artist, and these people were his canvas. Missy was swerving through their feet and tripping them up.

“Come Saralax” yelled Santiago. The path was paved now. One glided through the grass like a light feline, the other rampaged through like a wild Rhino steamrolling all in its path. Saralax and the Cat Sage. They ran without any real sense of direction.

It wasn’t long before they were completely lost. This wasn’t like the forest outside the prison. This was some mysterious island. Something was amiss in the nearby bush where they stopped. A creature emerged on all four legs. It was wearing a slightly worn-out black latex suit. It was Leelz!

“My Master…Leelz hath’ found you at last…”he muttered subserviently and in the third person, “Come my master, I know the path to safety. You follow old Leelz, she’ll show you the way”

Leelz ran like some kind of half man – half dog, on his 4 legs. Leading them through secret pathways and bushes. They were moving away from sight of a fully manned forest. But where could they flee on a small island such as this?

“Leelz!” screamed Saralax, overjoyed while jiggling along beside Santiago. “Good Leelz…” He was glad to have his faithful pet back at his side.

Suddenly they ran into a group of five or so men.

The three of them fought through the mob and made for a huge clearing. The lack of tree cover would provide no protection when engaging large groups. The conditions and terrain seemed quite unsuitable for The Cat Sage and Saralax due to their training.

They were encircled in snap, almost as if they had entered a trap.

Leelz disappeared into the mob, pouncing in and fighting from within them. The Cat sage and Saralax stood strong in the centre – back to back. Brute force vs Brute force.

They were winning. The three warriors together were fending off all assaults. Five, ten, twenty guards were dropped like children by the veteran warriors.

The full moon was glowing in magnificent glory.

The three calmed down when all the enemies had fallen. Santiago turned to Saralax to exchange words.

“Blessed us, Shima has” muttered Sensei Santiago, “Failed, Shabz has. Praise be to Missy…Pr-”

Suddenly the cat sage coughed up some blood, his eyes looking off into the distance.

Saralax noticed the tip of dagger sticking out of his chest. Right through his heart.

“MASTER!!!” screamed Saralax. Santiago crumpled to the ground.

He smiled malignantly from behind as he rose to his feet, withdrawing the stiletto. His straight hair glistening under the moonlight. His eyes filled with a wild madness. Casimiro licked the blood off the dagger as he smiled maliciously at Saralax.

“BAD LEELZ!, WHAT HAS THEE DONE!!!” The roar of Saralax echoed endlessly through the forests.

Men were again surrounding him. Their numbers simply did not end, but now the lone berserker was born. White hot rage spread through every layer of fat in Saralax’s body.

Saralax lapsed into a bloodlust of blind, unstoppable rage. Everyone who got too close was crippled in an instant. He wasn’t the prey. He was the predator. It took minutes before all that remained was him and Casimiro.

Saralax and Casimiro stood face to face. Fear crippled the former Leelz…He quivered meekly in the face of his crazed and Super-Sized former-Master.

Each step made the ground quake, as Saralax fumed towards Casimiro. Casimiro tried to beg for mercy on his knees. He even went as far as to request a “walk”…but he knew he had crossed the line.

“It’s over, you Big Bloated Balloon” said someone from the shadows. Two men emerged into the clearing. Shabz and KD.

KD charged into Saralax.

KD vs Saralax. The Final midnight brawl. Undefeated Former Champion vs Undefeated Current Champion. Casimiro used the moment to flee into back into the woods.

They were toe to toe, throwing heavy punches at one another and neither blocking the other’s incoming blow. KD, lifeless and mechanic and technical. Saralax, hungry and All-Consuming. This was the greatest battle, with only a single witness to soak it in – Shabz.

Punch for Punch. Even after everything Saralax had endured – he was taking on the champion on a level field. Both were pushing each other to new heights. Shabz couldn’t believe the two were so close in strength.

KD was sweating, bleeding. Saralax was already damaged from his previous scuffles, but was holding his own in the clash of champions.

This fight would not end this way. They were too equal. Saralax saw it now.

It was time…for Feline Mode. The Cat Sage’s greatest Legacy. He took a long and deep breath.

Everything around Saralax came to life, the power inside his girth swelled and his connection to nature was born. Just a few more seconds…

A crunching, sickening blow took Saralax at the back of his head. He was on his knees, his vision blurry and fading. A haze of Casimiro with a baseball bat in hand splayed across his vision.

It was over. The Cat Sage was slain. They had been out-strategized, betrayed and ultimately beaten. And Saralax had been taken out from behind while in a heated battle with KD.

There was nothing but grief. He had failed his fallen Master. He had failed Vinnie.

“Gob…bba’” he whispered. A tear fell from his eye. KD was the last thing he saw – before losing consciousness.

 

Up Next: Revenge of “the Portuguese”

The day of reckoning had finally come. The wait was over.

The thrill of conflict was in the air. It was a brisk, chill morning and the cool breeze was crisp and refreshing. Tensions were running high in the fighter’s lodgings. The grand tournament was set to begin at last. Everything had culminated to this moment. The 6 fighters made their way to the ring at 6am sharp to prepare for the first fight – scheduled for 8 am. Four would fight this day, and two the day after.

Vinnie Balboa was cursing his luck and muttering obscenities about that angry bastard Habaz Valentine – for obliterating his foe before the event even began. Now he was to be the first contender. Saralax, Vinnie and Sensei Santiago were making their way down to the ring in a group from the Fighters lodgings.

Saralax was jovially chomping down on a triple quarter pounder, with a big benign smile painted on his chubby innocent face. He was without a care in the world. Practically skipping to the fighting ring. He was much like a cherub faced, fat little cupid with rosy cheeks and an innocent but lovable idiocy floating about him.

♫ “Yum yum..tum tum…” ♫he sang with a jolly tune while bouncing his head as he strode to the ring, ♫ “yum yum..tum tum.” ♫

The Cat Sage was anxiously stroking Missy. He wasn’t accustomed to being around so many people at any one time. His anxiety was playing up. Poor Missy was on the receiving end of Sensei Santiago’s stress. She hissed at her tensed up underling. Santiago cowered. “No Goddess Missy…Mercy…Pleaasee!!!” shrieked the powerful but dishevelled looking Hermit. Missy calmed down.

His back still ached from his atonement scratches from Missy the night before. Much like the ancient Christians whipping themselves to atone for their sins, the Cat Sage gave free reign of his back to Missy’s sharp claws when he thought he deserved to be punished for some self-concocted crime.

Finally they arrived at the grand arena. A huge colosseum which seated thousands was surrounding one boxing styled ring. It was half full with more than an hour before the first fight was set to commence. Regardless for his spoilt nature and doughy physique – Vinnie had to admit that Shabz could throw one hell of a spectacle.

The preparation rooms for the fighters were basic but provided what one needed. Vinnie was lost in his own mind. The hour leading up to the fight felt like seconds. Pure concentration went through him. The time had come for each fighter to walk up to the stage.

He could here Michael Jackson playing, and knew it to be Adusius’s entrance song. Vinnie had not been offered to slect his own. Strange he thought to himself.

♫ “’Cause this is thriller, thriller night

And no one’s gonna save you from the beast about to strike

You know it’s thriller, thriller night

You’re fighting for your life inside a killer, thriller tonight” ♫

As Vinnie made his way down the walkway, sparring against the air and mentally focussing, he heard it. His walkway song was “Pretty Woman” by Roy Orbison. The lyrics drove Vinnie into a furious bloodlust.

“ADRIAN!!!!” He screamed, nonsensically and out of context.

♫ “Pretty woman, walking down the street

Pretty woman, the kind I like to meet…” ♫

This was that dastardly Black bird’s doing. Vinnie knew it. He was enraged. He picked up the pace to the ring ready to knock some sense into that black, bumbling buffoon and end this insulting song. Both fighters stood toe to toe in the ring. The environment was electric and wrapped with anticipation. The referee stepped up and began to speak.

“You lose the fight if you are knocked out and I count to 10, you give up, you cry or…” the referee paused for effect before continuing on, “if you die… Fighters to your corners!”.

*Ding Ding* – Fight 1 – Round 1

Vinnie was going to end this now! He swung wildly and carelessly. Adusius sniggered as he danced poetically around each hook. Every time he had a moment, he would slap Vinnie on the face with his white-gloved hand.

It sent Vinnie into a deeper, darker frenzy. The Cat sage and Saralax were ring-side in Vinnie’s corner, egging him on (possibly – all Vinnie could hear was “Gobba’” and “Shima”). The first round was just a testing ground for the Black Bird. He wanted to see how careless and easy to provoke his opponent was. How sloppy his fighting technique could become. He smiled at his success.

*Ding* – the round had ended without Vinnie landing a single punch, and getting glove slapped too many times.

Round two was almost an imitation of the first. It took til the third round for Vinnie to land a hit and cut Adusius’s lip. The effect was still minimal and Adusius laughed it off. Blind rage Vs. Cunning. The result could only go one way if things played out this way – and Vinnie knew it.

The crowd was alive, the battle furious. Each round started to get more difficult for Vinnie and Adusius kept singing, taunting and showboating. At the end of five rounds, it looked like Vinnie had been through hell itself. He was sweaty, bruised and battered. Adusius had a few minor cuts and scrapes. Before the sixth round, the Sensei decided to provide some words of wisdom.

“Vinnie…Dezza dammit! Believe in Missy. Feek!,” said Santiago animatedly, “Praise be to Shima!!!”

Vinnie stood there baffled. What the hell did Sensei Santiago just say. Did it make sense?!

“Err…yea…Sensei” muttered Vinnie.

Round 6 – *Ding Ding*

Vinnie’s arms were heavy. His legs were like logs. He was running on rage and fumes alone. Adusius was merry in his approach.

Vinnie remembered all the training. All the suffering. The pain and humiliation. Prison. He channelled the inner rage from deep within. Garas…Prasadh! He couldn’t lose…HE WOULDN’T LOSE!!!

Something had clicked. The true fight was only just beginning. Vinnie pounced like a cat, agile and nimble. His fighting form had changed. He had released Feline Fu!

Adusius could no longer read his movements. He was getting scratched, slashed and put off balance before each strike. Each strike was drastically more vehement and critical now.

It was a warzone. Who wanted it more. The battle had evened up at last as Feline Fu competed against Dance-fighting.

The round ended with two beaten down warriors. Neither was in a jovial mood now. It was an all-out war and the crowd loved it.

*Ding*

Round 7 – *Ding Ding*

They were both weary. Vinnie was getting desperate. The poetic dancer had his rhythms in perfect motion. It was poetry in motion. With each round, Vinnie grew tired while the black bird mostly strong. His stamina seemed infinite. It was time…

He may not have been as good a student as Saralax, but his incomplete variation should give him the edge. Vinnie took a knee, tensed his right hand into a claw like state and buried his nails into the floor…He needed a few seconds, fortunately Adusius was busy dancing as the crowd cheered.

“Feline…mode!” – His muscles tightened, his pulse quickened and the world around him was moving at half speed. It was now or never…

Vinnie was fast. Too fast. Adusius was still dancing around the blows, but only barely. He could no longer sing. He was working up a sweat, and every so often he was getting hit…and savagely. He attempted to retaliate but Feline Fu and this sudden increase in speed and strength was too much. He was completely outclassed. All he could do was try to defend himself with no success.

Vinnie was burning out quickly. His stamina was already low. His form was imperfect and unsustainable. He had maybe 12-15 seconds to finish this. The second secret move he had learnt…or Vinnie’s weaker variation of it really. It was time, for the Legendary Shimabow.

He pushed himself deep into the corner ropes of the ring and took careful aim. He then launched himself like an arrow from a bow at the dancing menace at rocket speed and used the final seconds of his weaker variation of Feline Mode to empower his attack.

“SHIMABOW!!!” he roared head-butting Adusius directly in the gut. Both fell like a heap into the ground, one from recoil and the other from a sever winding. Vinnie rose quickly and looked on as the referee began to count.

1…

2….

3…..

4…..

5…

6

Adusius rose. No…thought Vinnie to himself. He had nothing left. This couldn’t be!

…

…

…

Suddenly, he broke down. Adusius started to cry. He was bawling like a little child whose toy had been broken, tears falling like a waterfall from the oversized dancer.

The referee stepped in at this point.

“Adusius Bandarias has started to cry! He is disqualified!

Winner of the first Fight…. VINNIE BALBOA !!!”

Vinnie collapsed in relief and exhaustion – The Victor.

~

The Second fight followed soon after the first. All the cordial pre-fight rituals ran similarly and the two fighters stood toe to toe. Saralax Vs. Garas. Vinnie had warned Saralax not to underestimate the man. Known among some circles as Garas the Twenty Three. For what reason, was anyone’s guess.

*Ding Ding* –Fight 2 – Round 1

Saralax stood tall and large in the ring. Mostly large. It seemed like his body covered a third of the ring on pure girth alone. The Covenant of Cheese, his loyal supporters, were praying to the great and generous clown god – Ronald McDonald for good fortune this day.

Garas was circling Saralax and jabbing tactically, before ducking back into a safe distance. This continued for a whole minute. Garas was tentative facing a man with an unprecedented reputation. Saralax seemed un-phased – if anything, distracted. The Current Champion was standing by Shabz ringside like a hypnotized corpse staring blankly at the ring. It caught Saralax’s attention for some reason. “Gobba’?!” he whispered to himself. It was as though he was looking into a distant past he had long since forgotten. Garas snapped Saralax back into the moment.

“Time for my twenty three punch combo” muttered Garas, a cunning grin painted on his face, as though he had been dominating the whole fight. 2 and a half minutes of the first 3 minute round had elapsed without Saralax having moved an inch or even noticed he was in the middle of a fight. He had taken each blow as if being prodded by an infant. Vinnie was awestruck by how resistant his gigantic companion was to physical attacks. Saralax shifted his attention to Garas. A deep hunger appeared in his eyes.

As Garas dove in for his special combo, Saralax slowly lifted his right hand to his left ear. With an open palm, he then swung his arm sideways with intense force – Back-hand slapping Garas several metres out of the ring. Garas was left twitching semi-conscious on the floor by the ringside spectators – encompassed in a pool of his own making. It was a flawless victory. Saralax stepped out of the ring, and placed two cheeseburger patties on the unconscious warrior’s eyes. This one was unworthy of becoming a Leelz…thought Saralax to himself.

The Referee got to his 10 count, though purely as a technicality, before announcing the victor. It was obvious to everyone that this was a complete mismatch.

The crowd was roaring. As quickly as the fight had ended, the crowd were entertained. The myth of the great champion Saralax was materializing from fiction into fact in front of the audience’s very eyes. It was most humbling.

The last battle would be fought early the next day – but for now it was time to celebrate. Both Vinnie and Saralax went hunting for some beer and burgers.

The night was a celebration.

Prasadh Angada had not been present at the fight. He had been in his room the entire day, clearing his mind of all thought. Deep in meditation – his mind blank and in a vegetative state. He stared out the window to see the rain picking up. The ring would be wet tomorrow.

“Heahhh…” he muttered to himself quietly, before going to bed at 9.30pm sharp.

~

In the dim, quiet of night – those on the island were fast asleep. The audience as well as the fighters themselves were all tuckered out – exhausted from the first 2 fights of round 1. Two men, however, were sitting in a dark room hidden deep underneath the fighting ring whispering and conspiring.

“He is too strong…”whispered one man.

“What?! You don’t think your vile beast can take him?” Mocked the other in response.

“Silence fool! We will need to weaken him when the time comes…” whispered the first man, “We can’t take any chances. I have a lot of money invested in this.”

The second man laughed maliciously.

“Your greed is the least of my concerns, you bastard” chided the second man, before then turning around and exiting the room.

The first man stood seething. He did not expect the two of them to end up so close in strength. Not since the separation. He adjusted his perfectly round spectacles, as ideas began to take shape in his mind. Devious plans were going to come into motion. A smug grin was etched on his face.

 

Up Next: Champion vs Former Champion

Exhausted from screaming all night, Vinnie is still alone in the basement with a box of cruisers right in front of him. The muggy conditions and his thirst, or so he told himself, compelled him to finish all the cruisers which Prasada laid out in front of him.  When he finished the last bottle he noticed a key in the bottom of it,  he took it out and tried to open the chain locking him to this basement.  To Vinnie’s complete amazement, the key worked, he was free and Vinnie was out for vengeance “ this damn carrot is going to cop it!!!!”.

Vinnie was looking for a key to get out of the basement, but all he had to do was walk through the key created by Shima’s green rage, which he gleefully did. When he first got out to the outside world he was stunned to see his photo on several light poles with a bi line saying  “ Missing Vinnie Balboa – nickname “Mr Cruiser”, Last seen Jan 31st 2016 , if seen please call or send donations to Arnav Kumar  EFT 1054 ****”.  The nickname had riled up the young Balboa, and Vinnie went looking for all Prasada’s hotspots , the church, the bar and Pokemon go stops. Prasada was nowhere to be seen, so Vinnie decided to grab a quick bite to eat at a local kebab shop. As he munched on his Snack Pack, he saw Prasada sitting in all Vegetable restaurant across the road.

Vinnie threw away his Snack Pack and began charging over to the young priest, but before he got there he noticed something, he realised that Prasada was suddenly Ripped, almost Sanath Jayasuriya like. The carrot diet had made his arms look like Pythons. Balboa’s hero was a defeatist icon known as Vegeta, and Vinnie knew he had no chance to beat up Prasada, so he followed Vegeta’s teachings and decided to stick to his strengths and avoid that beating.  As such Vinnie decided to run back to the basement, and lock himself back in the tomb which Prasada imprisoned him. To complete the deed he let out a whole huge “CRUISER”.

 

Stay alert in 2017 for one of the hottest stories to come out – The Game 2.

At the end of a long week of work, two pals decide to catch up at the local watering hole. The first man was Prasada Lovejoy, a deeply religious man who had a major fear of horror films. The second man was Vinnie Balboa, a cold hearted banker who held a deep repulsion for an alcoholic beverage called the “Cruiser”. Vinnie, parched from taking poor people’s money, bought the first round of drinks and the two boys conversed about the trials and tribulations of the past week.

Conflict would arise upon Prasada’s round, as he gleefully asked “Two cruisers please barkeep”. Vinnie erupted and screamed “WHAT THE CRAP!!!” Balboa had lost all composure and got up and pointed at Prasada, and then proclaimed “Listen here Lovejoy; you will never ever see me drink a bloody Cruiser, so stop fucking around”. Prasada, undeterred by Vinnie’s aggression retorted with “Alright there…..We will see about that” and decided to call it a night. Both men would end up going home, with Vinnie going to be bed in an agitated state while Lovejoy was at peace following some teachings from his beloved bible.

Vinnie awoke from his sleep and was in complete shock as to what he saw. He was shackled to a Pipe in the edge of a cold deserted basement. There was a door on the opposite side of the room, and when he looked up he saw two swords, one positioned over him and the other over the man next to him. The man next to him was Prasada Lovejoy, and he too was shackled to the pipe. Prasada was now awake, and both men were inconsolable, screaming “HELP, HELP, What is Happening, HELP” and trying to break free of the chains which held them prisoner.

After the two pals had screamed their lungs out, the door at the other side of the room opened, and out came a doll riding on a tricycle. The doll stopped at the middle of the room and proclaimed “Prasada for years you have avoided the thrill of the horror movie, so think of this as your own horror movie. Look at that sword above your head; if you want you and Vinnie to survive, all you have to do is watch a scene from the conjuring 2. Press play within 20 Minutes and that sword will remain dangling in the air, however if you do not, those swords will end your lives”. The doll then turned to Vinnie and said “Vinnie for years you have deprived yourself of the beloved cruiser, so if you want to live, drink the cruiser in front of you within 20 minutes. Prasada and Vinnie live or die, MAKE YOUR CHOICE”. The doll moved to behind the door and the clock started.

20 MINUTES

The two prisoners were now locked in a game with both their lives at stake. Vinnie turned to Prasada and encouraged “Prasada just watch this scene, and we both can escape”. Prasada, wrapped with fear replied “Adiyaga….. Can’t do it. Adiyaga… Can’t do it”. To understand the fear Lovejoy held of the horror genre, goes all the way back to the day he refused to scrub the dishes, despite his home having a dishwasher. Enraged, his mother and sister kept him caged in his room for two months, and Prasada always felt the horror he felt for two months, would be replicated by watching a horror film. While Vinnie’s demons with the cruiser, were caused from an incident exactly five years ago. Balboa was at a bar with his best friend Viplav, and Viplav asked Vinnie to hold his cruiser while he went to the bathroom. Unfortunately, the bar photographer had taken Vinnie’s picture, cruiser in hand, and published it in the local paper with the caption, “cruiser boy”. This became a source of embarrassment for Vinnie, as his buddies began calling him “cruiser boy”, and he vowed never to have anything to do with this drink.

Prasada was now in a state of shock just jabbering “can’t do it”, and Vinnie knew his salvation would be only be reached by the dreaded cruiser. As a result, Vinnie was enraged and physically shaking.

10 MINUTES

Suddenly, the door opened again, and both boys were focussed on the shadows behind it. Through the door came three people which they knew and were friends with. The first man was Arnie Montana, who was Vinnie’s neighbourhood buddy, a Portuguese ruffian who’s finances were always undisclosed. The second was Mr Saralax, a portly figure who was famous for walking his dog “Leels” about ten times a day and was equally known for his choice to wear clothing with no pockets. While the final man, was Habaz Shima, who famous for his short fuse.

The three visitors were quickly informed of the prisoner’s fate, and Shima was immediately enraged at both of their stubbornness and idiocy “YOU FUCKING GIMPS, just fucking drink Vinnie and watch Prasada”. Habaz was turning green, his fuse was lit, and he sprinted out of the basement leaving a trail of destruction, which was clearly heard by all four of the occupants. Vinnie called for Arnie and asked “Arnie please save us, we need your help”. Mr Montana began laughing and retorted “Vinnie I seem to recall last week I asked for you to pay for the cab, and you told me to Fuck Off. So how about you save yourself ….. Cruiser Boy”. Vinnie despondent screamed “Arnie, it was your decision to catch the cab, this is life and death dammit”, which Arnie simply quipped back “Well Vinnie, whoever has locked you in here wants you to play a game for a reason, I think I should respect this man’s wishes.

Suddenly, Saralax began chomping on a Big-Mac, which prompted Montana to ask “Where did you get Sara, you don’t have pockets right?” to which Saralax responded “You ask too many question son”. Arnie, looked at the back of Saralax’s shorts and saw the streaks of Big Mac Sauce on the back of them, he suddenly knew where the Big Mac came from. This horror was too much for Montana to handle, and he decided to run away. Vinnie’s only hope was Mr Saralax, and he pleaded “Please Mr Saralax, I’ll do anything”, to which the response was “I would save you guys but I gotta walk Leels, I’ll come back as soon I’m done son”. Vinnie and Prasada were now alone.

1 MINUTE TO GO

With Prasada still muttering away, Vinnie knew only he could save himself. He picked up the cruiser, screamed “Fuck you Lovejoy” and began sculling the poison which had tortured him for so long. When he was done, the sword fell to the floor, away from Vinnie’s body. Freedom was imminent, however he was still chained to the pipe, and when the clock hit Zero, dramatic music began playing. Suddenly, Prasada began walking to the door, to Vinnie’s complete shock, and when he got to the door he turned and proclaimed “ Vinnie for years you have told me that you will never drink a cruiser, well not anymore will you deprive yourself of that joy. GAME OVER…. GG” as he proceeded to close the basement door behind him. Vinnie, aware that he had been tricked and bamboozled by Prasada, and looked up to the sky and screamed “CRUISERRRRRR!!!!!!”

 

Next: A teaser trailer – The Game 1.2