Author: admin

*The 3 astronauts are seen in the cockpit of the rocket. There are several complex instruments and buttons. They are planning to put on their suits and breach airlock, to perform standard maintence checks to the exterior of the rocket*

Bob: Alright lads, I’ll go grab the spacesuits from storage.
Steve: Need a hand Bob?
Bob: No mate, I’ll be fine. How hard could it be to carry, there’s no gravity up here!
Steve: HAHAHA
Captain Jimmy: Hahaha

*Bob opens a hatch, and starts floating through the large rocket. He closes the doors behind him as he goes. Soon he is floating outside the storage room. He is whistling a happy tune. The excitement of being in space is beyond his wildest childhood dreams… He can’t wait to get to Mars*

*Bob opens the storage room hatch. It is dark inside. There are boxes and cans stacked everywhere. It’s a mess. He begins floating through the room, looking for the spacesuits.*

Bob: Damn light’s not working… must be malfunctioning…now where are those suits!

*Bob finds the suits… but something is wrong…*

Bob: Hmm.. only 3 suits? I remember we packed 1 spare…

*Bob picks up the 3 suits and carries them back through the rocket. He puts his suit on, and is ready to breach airlock for the rocket maintenance . The other 2 men will stay in the rocket to observe from the windows.*

*Airlock breach…. Loud hissing, and Bob is in Space. The other 2 men cheer, watching from the window as Bob floats around, connected to the rocket by a white rope. Suddenly, a beeping sound is heard in the cockpit…*

Captain Jimmy: That’s strange… There’s  been another breach to airlock at the rear of the rocket…
Steve: How’s that possible?
Captain Jimmy: It isn’t.. Someone would have to physically turn the handle to open it

*The men look outside. Bob is waving at them, clearly very excited. In the background, they can see Earth in it’s entirety. It is beautiful, beyond words…. Bob’s chatting over the radio intercom, but Steve and Capt. Jimmy are no longer listening. They stand stunned, as they watch another UNKNOWN fully suited man float towards Bob from the side…*

*The unknown man approaches Bob from the side, and throws a slow right hand straight. Bob begins to twist and tumble in the zero gravity environment. He is getting tangled in his white rope*

Capt. Jimmy: *YELLING INTO THE RADIO INTERCOM* Dear God. WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?

Vinnie Balboa (fully suited, floating in space): *Over intercom* I could, uhh, ask you the very same thing. These suits are no good. Do you have one in Burberry?

Capt. Jimmy: You stupid son of a bitch. What have you done to Bob!

Vinnie Balboa: Uhh… Bobby gone Bye-bye. I’m a fighter, see. Now which one of you guys can tell me where to get a cold beer

Capt. Jimmy: Son, you’re on a NASA spacecraft bound for Mars. You’re a long way from home.

*Vinnie Balboa continues to assault Bob in space, throwing brutal combinations… Bob is now unconscious, tangled in white rope, floating in space*

Vinnie Balboa: I’m looking for my horse. Goes by ‘fitbit’

Capt. Jimmy: THERE’S NO HORSES UP HERE YOU IDIOT, WE’RE IN SPACE

*A deep, powerful rage is ablaze in Vinnie Balboa’s heart. The fight has only begun*

Vinnie Balboa: I ain’t no idiot, see. Now I don’t like your tone – I’m gonna have to break you

Capt. Jimmy: Dear God…can we seek to resolve this peacefully?

Vinnie Balboa: haha – a peaceful resolution? … No Dice

 

Stay tuned for the next chapter of this arc – 2 Days from Mars.

Our hero awakens to the dawn of a new day, lying in the desert. His groin throbs painfully, as he remembers Fitbit’s vicious kicks.

He cannot stand, due to the pain. He begins to crawl through the desert. Thirst and heat ravage him, as he crawls aimlessly across the vast red plains. He crawls for days, living off the small shrubs he finds on the desert floor.

His will to survive is beginning to wane, when suddenly, our hero spots a looming shadow on the horizon – it looks almost like a tower or large building. He crawls desperately through the dust, the fighter’s spirit burning deep within his battered body.

It is night when he finally reaches the mysterious metallic tower…he squints in the darkness, noticing that it is about 150m tall, and metallic. Perhaps he’s found an old abandoned tower?

He climbs inside through a small hatch on the side of the mysterious structure, and curls up in the darkness. Sleep comes swiftly…

*SHUDDERING, RED LIGHTS FLASHING, LOUD EXPLOSIVE SOUNDS”

Our hero awakens to the sound of powerful jets firing. A calm robotic voice is counting down loudly over a speaker system – ‘…7, 6, 5, 4…’

A flashing red light illuminates the small room in which he had crawled and slept. It is filled with various bits of equipment and stored items…. Canned foods, water, oxygen tanks….and 4 FULL BODY SPACE SUITS.

‘…3, 2, 1, LAUNCH’

The cabin is shuddering, the sound is deafening. Our hero is pinned to the floor by powerful G forces
*Cut to scene of a random family… mum, dad, son and daughter. They are in their living room, watching TV*

Dad: Well son, there we have it – Lift off!

Son: Cool dad! Where did you say they were sending that rocket?

Dad: They’re sending it to Mars son! It’s been lauched just a moment ago, from the middle of the desert!

Daughter: What brave men! How many are there dad?

Dad: 3 brave astronauts!

Mum: Wow. God watch over them! I hope nothing happens to those great, brave men.

Dad: I’m sure nothing will happen…

Deep in the storage compartment of the rocket, our hero lies silently contemplating what the F**K is going on.

The engines are roaring, the lights are flashing, the cabin is shuddering……

And Vinnie Balboa feels the beginnings of a deep, blistering rage stirring within him…

VB: ‘WHAT’S HAPPENIN? ADRIAN! AAADDDRIAANNN! FITTTTTTTTBIIIIIIITTTTT!!!!!’

*2 hours later… the rocket is in cruise mode, gliding silently through space. The crew is 3 days away from arrival on Mars*

 

Up Next: 3 Days from Mars

Bachi looked down at his hands as he turned green. What the hell was happening to him? He didn’t have time to figure it out… His mind was already wondering to the deepest and darkest places in his brain. He was visiting painful memories of his past. He couldn’t take it, and he didn’t know what to do. All the pain and anger was overtaking him…

Wade was consistently ducking the flying punches that Caz was throwing at wild. Caz had not stopped for 5 minutes in a row, and yet Wade had not let one punch land on him. Every punch that Wade dodged made Caz angrier and angrier. His fists flew through the air with a faster speed, each and every strike being potentially more deadly than the other.

Wade had had enough. He wasn’t a violent guy, and he wasn’t quite sure how to handle the lumbering oaf throwing swings at him. But enough was enough – it was time to stop it all.

In a simple movement, Wade slapped Caz on the face. But the shock that came to Caz’s face was unexpected. Caz slowly reached to his face and felt moisture throughout it. Did the man standing before him just slap him with the sweatiest palm on the face of the planet? The shock remained, as he stared at Wade before he vomited and passed out in his own filth. Caz was a TKO.

Wade smiled and walked off when he noticed something move extremely fast in his peripherals before all he saw was black. His basketball had flown so fast into the side of his head, it had popped and burst. Wade instantly fell. As he was closing his eyes, he noticed a lumbering green animal on all 4s running towards the Raj.

Bachi was running full-fledged with nothing but anger in his eyes. His arms were pounding the floor, as he used them to leverage his body and gain more momentum. He’d cracked it, and he wanted his captain to know nobody messes with Bachi.

The Raj sat counting peacefully in a meditative state. “7… 8… 9… AH ya fu-!” The Raj looked down as Bachi ran head-first into the side of him and bounced right off him. “Damn rat”, he said pitifully, looking at the young man who’d knocked himself out by running into him. “Alright, that must be 10 seconds.”

The Raj stood up and looked down at the flattened Bugs squashed into the floor, his face smeared with Big Mac sauce and the cheeseburger that led to his demise. One could only guess where the sauce came from…

“And that’s game boys, heahhhh” The Raj took his leave off the field back towards his bags, leaving a warzone behind him. There was an eerie silence he was leaving behind. Perhaps too quiet…

“SHIMA!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“What the –“ The Raj turned around and saw a cat running towards him angrily, with Meowth right behind him pointing at The Raj . Meowth had used his ultimate move – “Missy Attack”. The onwatching dogs bound after the cat. “Ah ya fuc*ing c*nt!” The fat man tried to run, but Missy had already pounced onto his head. The dogs followed suit, no longer hungry for the cat but for the Big Mac and Cheeseburgers hidden within The Raj. The Raj got mauled completely. He had met his end.

“SHIMA!!!!!!!!!!!” Meowth yelled again, before he sobbed by the side of Bugs – crushed, and no longer breathing. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, SHIMA?!!!!!” He weapt for hours by his side, before he got up and uttered one more word before he walked off the field…

“Heahhhh.”

The dogs around were barking, looking for the mysterious whistle that had stopped blowing. Binch pulled himself up. He had a new-found confidence, now that The Raj was ready for action.

The Raj reached behind himself, with a curious face about him. People couldn’t identify whether he was angry at the situation or he was just hungry. But what came next was rather unexpected. He wasn’t reaching for his pockets – his rugby shorts had none. No, he was reaching elsewhere….

“Look at this lumbering oaf”, scoffed Bugs. “I’ve had it with these fools, damn 5 figure chumps.”

Caz stared in awe and disgust – The Raj was reaching into the behind of his pants. He saw the pudgy fist swimming within The Raj’s own shorts before he pulled out a cheeseburger.

“OHHH WHAT THE?!” Bachi was petrified of his own captain, looking at him in disgust as he unwrapped the cheeseburger and reached to put it in his mouth. Why did he have to pull these moves in the middle of battle? “Hold your shit together, Raj!”

“ENOUGH!” In one swift movement, The Raj pulled his hand away from the cheeseburger that was already lodged in his mouth and backhanded Bachi off the field, a good 10 metres away.

People stared in awe, first at the flight of Bachi, then back to The Raj as chomped on his burger – a 100% Australian Beef patty, pickles, cheese, tomato sauce, pubes, all in between a sloppy bun. People weren’t quite sure what to do at this point – and it certainly had Meowth scared.

“Bugs let’s go, the Shima is not with us today.”

“…. Heahhhh”, replied Bugs. He wasn’t overly impressed with the outcome. He was looking forward to giving the fat man a good beatdown. Perhaps it would have to wait another day.

“Alright boys, let’s reschedule our game of football.”

“Fuck off, Carrot Boy, we’re not having any this rubbish.” Caz had marched forward in the midst of everyone staring at The Raj. “Let’s do this right here, right now.”

“…. Heaaahhhh. Wade, you rat, do something about this.”

Wade had stepped forward. He looked determined but on edge – he didn’t quite feel complete without his basketball. Caz, on the other hand, was already running to Wade.

“YOU WANT A PIECE OF ME?!” yelled Caz. “HIT ME! HITTTT MEEEEEE!!!!”

And so it began. Binch fired up and immediately ran directly at Meowth.

“Damn it, need to find a rope”, thought Meowth. He ran to the closest tree and immediately climbed it, digging his claws into the tree as he scuttled up.

“COME BACK HERE YOU DAMN PRICK!” Binch’s voice had rectified itself magically. Binch’s strength was unbelievable – he managed to shake the tree, moving it from its very roots. He watched Meowth hanging onto nothing but a mere branch – a branch so long and so weighed down, Binch could almost reach him with his hands. “I’ve almost got you now you damn cat fiend, you’re mine!”

Meowth laughed. A familiar glint had run through his eyes again. Binch was startled – why was that so familiar again? And before he could even remember the last time he saw it was when he got knocked out by the soccer ball, Meowth had already made his move.

“Off the top rope boys!” Meowth had leapt off the branch, elbow soaring down towards Binch. POW – Vinnie was KO’ed this time.

In the meantime, the ultimate fight was about to commence – captain vs. captain, mano el mano. Bugs’ smirk was unwavered by the sheer size of the man in front of him – in fact, his smile grew as he realised The Raj had seemingly forgotten about the fight and was rather intently munching at that sloppy burger of his. This was nothing but a joke.

And within the blink of an eye, The Raj attacked – he threw the cheeseburger right into the big smile Bugs had on his face.

“MEAT?!” Bugs was choking, and was brought to his knees. He sat there coughing and spluttering. “DAMN YOU YOU FAT BASTARD!”

But this was the game plan all along. The Raj lumbered up to the pathetic captain in front of him. “Heahhh this, you orange filth.” On the spot, The Raj turned around and lowered his bottom.

“Nooo… Nooooo… NOOOO!!!” and within moments, Bugs’ mouth was filled with a swimming mixture of beef and ass. The Raj looked up at the sky, and counted to 10. He knew it would all be over by then…

Bachi arose to consciousness and looked up from the side line… He had seen his captain pull a standard move. But he wasn’t impressed or laughing this time around. “You’ll pay for that, you dull-witted, hungry oaf.”

 

Up Next: The Bachi returns

Two men stroll through to park, one significantly dwarfed, especially in comparison to his rather tall and built friend. As the two men emerge, the taller man’s medals shine brightly against the camouflage uniform he wore, as well as his name badge that read ‘Binch’ – he was definitely a man of the army. His half-midget friend had a slight stomp in his step. His agitation was only calmed by the sweet taste of tobacco, as he took breath after breath into an almost-finished cigarette.

“You idiot Bachi, put that crap out, we got an important game to play”, said Binch, sternly. His voice came from a dark place within him, and came out deep. It resonated into the bones of those he spoke to. He hadn’t been this nervous since his time at war.

“… Man I don’t have time for this rubbish… oooooooohhhhh a rugby game. Man none of these little bitches are going to take me down anyway.” Bachi’s arrogance was not very well received by many people, but Binch was one of the few willing to accept it.

“You damn midget, maybe if you could run for more than 30 seconds without your lungs catching up with you I wouldn’t be worried.”

“What’s your issue man, it’s just a game!”

“Maybe to some, but this is WAR!”, snapped Binch.

“What, alright bro, relax relax, I’m putting it out.” Bachi threw his already finished cigarette onto the ground and waltzed forward, with more of a light spring in his step. Suddenly he seemed happy. Perhaps it was the fact he had an excuse to smash people and get smashed.

The men walk up the hill to the park. The field they saw was rather small. It seemed only fitting for a 4 vs 4 match. The rest of the team was already running onto the field, led by their captain – referred to as ‘The Prop’.

“Hurry the fuck up boys, it’s time to kick some ass!” a medium-sized Portuguese ruffian by the name of Caz had emerged from behind the large breadth of The Prop. The latecomers quickly ran and dropped their bags by the side-line. Bachi had a big smile on his face, like a kid in a candy store. Binch, on the other hand, had post-traumatic stress disorder written all over his face. And that particular face only hardened when he saw what was sitting in the middle of a field.

***

“Look at these chumps, let’s put them in for a treat, eh boys?” A lanky dark male was smirking at the newcomers. These blokes thought they could take over his territory? He ran these streets, he knew these guys had nothing. He had already seen the short man smoking away. The man had clearly underestimated what fitness was required. His team was one player down, but it didn’t phase the captain at all.

“Just calm down there, Bugs, let’s just make it a quick game and wipe them out.” A man whose shoulders gave him the illusion that man could stand square literally, stood by Bugs’ side. “These guys know nothing, they definitely do not know the power of Shima”, he whispered softly into his ear.

Bugs pulled out his signature carrot and took a sizeable chomp out of it. He was so confident and yet on edge. Why did these 4 running onto the field give him an uneasy feel? He didn’t have a good feeling about this game…

“Alright boys, let’s do it for Tottenham!” Bugs strolled forward, followed by his square friend, his right hand man, Meowth. Two other men followed behind, almost lazily. One had the build of a boxer, and for some reason was carrying a basketball onto the field.

“Fucking Wade, put the basketball down.” Bugs was close to cracking it. “How are you meant to run around with a basketball in your hand?”

“Errr… yeah sorry man.” The basketball was rolled off to the side, back with their bags. The team moved onto the field with nothing but a focus of demolition.

***

“What  on earth… what the hell is this?” The Prop and the rest of the team looked down at the ball in the middle of the field.

“Guess we’re about to find out”, piped up Bachi.

The three opposing team members had arrived, and it should have been game time. But the team of 4 had a problem with the ball.

“You said we’re playing a game of rugby. What the FUCK is this!?” exclaimed Binch. “WHY THE FUCK WOULD I VOLUNTEER TO PLAY SOCCER?!”

“…. Alright there Binch, just calm down”, replied Bugs in a calm, but smug, tone. “I said ‘football’, alright?”

“Screw your ‘football’, and screw you. I didn’t fight for my country just to have you plebs play soccer in our country!”

“… Alright there Binch…”

“Say ‘Alright there’ one more time, I dare you.”

“… Alright th-“

“VATTT THEEE…”, bellowed Binch. He had gone red in the face. He was not easy to anger, but this all ticked the wrong boxes in his books. He was good to go.

“CRAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Everyone covered their ears. Bugs had recoiled, he couldn’t take the frequency. From such a deep voice, he had gone beyond castrati. The frequency was bursting eardrums all around him. Birds around him had flocked away, and a multitude of dogs were running onto the field – no doubt hearing what they believed was a dog whistle.

Meowth seized the opportunity, and picked up the soccer ball. He looked at Binch, his eyes closed as he was shrieked on. A glint in his eyes said it all – he launched the soccer ball right at Binch’s head. *THUD* A king hit with the soccer ball had Binch to the ground, blood gushing out of his nose.

“SHOWTIME!” Bachi had taken two steps forward with his right arm pulled back.

“Easy there, you angry rat.” The Prop put his arm out, holding Bachi back. “Nobody makes a fool out of the Raj like that”.

Fear was in the air from everyone. It was a rare occasion that The Prop used his real name. And on those rare occasions, the story never had a happy ending.

 

Up Next: Chaos arises

A strong wind caught their sails, and they were off – Cutting through the waves at speed. The sky was crystal blue, and the sun made the endless ocean around them shimmer. PC gazed soulfully to the distance – it seemed as though they were adrift in eternity itself, sailing through the stars. Behind him, he heard the crew cheering and shouting. The ship pushed through a wave, sending a cool ocean spray across their sea-worn faces. More cheering.

And yes, of course, the men were drinking. They carried upon their ship barrels of ale, pale and dark, as well as larger and whisky for the night-watch. PC stretched out, allowing himself a moment alone – away from the jubilant crew.

Amidst the crew, Vinay sipped his beer cautiously. He mustn’t allow himself to get too drunk. His recent training would all be in vain if he drank to excess, like the rest of the crew. “Fools” he thought, smirking. He would never understand their impulsiveness, their brashness. A quality he saw no advantage in possessing. Vinay prided himself in upholding a meticulous, caring caution in all things. The others drank deeply from their glasses, shouting in joy. Some of the crew had begun to wrestle drunkenly. One man was climbing the ships mast, while others watched and cheered him on – no doubt betting on his inevitable success, or failure in reaching the top. Vinay sat quietly watching. He sipped his beer. He felt a pang of worry – “This is definitely ruining my diet”. It was his first, and probably his last drink for the day.

Arnav drained a full beer in 3 gulps, before refilling his glass. The crew cheered. He noticed PC standing a distance away, with his back to the crew. Vinay was sitting quietly, eyes vacant. Arnav drank deeply from his 7th glass of beer, as a crewmate handed him his pipe. He lit it up and breathed in the rich, thick aromatic smoke. “A fine blend indeed”.

The men nodded their agreement, each lighting up their own pipes. Arnav exhaled, watching the thick smoke rush up and disappear. Of all his great journeys, he knew the greatest was yet to come. He stood up and gripped the nearest man in a headlock – “skol your ale or I’ll throw ya overboard!” The crew began to cheer and laugh, egging him on. Arnav felt completely at ease – home at sea.

There was an uneasy calm circulating around them. The winds were quiet. The men were loud. Vinay sensed something coming. He continued to sip his beer wth a calculating stare into the distant clouds. This was merely the calm before the storm. They would not be ready for what was to come. The skies had gotten eerily clear with Gulls flying past them from beyond the horizon. The skies were painted with a beautiful pinkish hue. Women would have swooned over its majestic appearance, but Vinay knew what it meant…

“Bloodshed…” Whispered Vinay to himself.

“Cap’n ! Cap’n ! Something is headed our way…” Yelled Vinay, suddenly alert. The drunken men nearby were looking around lost and askew. Vinay wasn’t much of a talker, but when he spoke the crew knew it held meaning. Yet alcohol had maimed their senses.

A Man thrice Vinay’s size bouldered his way to Vinays side. A quizzical expression in his eyes. A seriousness in the creases of his face, which simply could not offset the comical design of his body. But he was their captain, and their men knew what he was capable of. His wrath had brought many a foe on these free seas to their knees. The tale of Captain Saravana and how he broke ‘Harry the Angry’ by sitting on him for 3 days straight was now folklore in the town they had left.

Captain Saravana had was the one who banded together this group of misfits and made them a family. His Insatiable appetite and unyielding love for his famous towel slung across his shoulder.

The men were lost in a cloudy haze of Wine and women. Arnav had relieved himself of his pants and was chasing PC around the ship in a jovial manner, his manhood flopping around aimlessly.

“Come here Ya Scalliwag !! Bow to your commandn’ Officaa. Bow to my royal C##k !!” Screamed Arnav, the alcohol fueling his jovial attitude.

Arnav was slurring as he cursed PC’s speed. PC, while completely dead sober was somehow more incoherant then Arnav. Their minds were absent the impending threat.

“Everbody! Get your weapons ready. Something is afoot” Bellowed the Captain.

“Cap’n !! ” screamed everyone, shaking off the alcohol like it was nothing. But their movements were sluggish…bad signs.

An emptiness became a shadow. A shadow turned into a ship.

The ship was a woody, gigantic behemoth. It’s men were shadows of death. Unsightly beings who had been cursed by the sun and the gods.

Their flag was unfamilar to Vinay but fear crept over him none the less. Not because of the ship but because Captain Saravana was quivering – his eyes stunned in disbelief as they fixated on the flag which came into view…

Its sails were engulfed in yellow and red. A lions skull flag, with the Letter T.Y.G emblazoned below it…

The TYG crew was unconventional, as they carried women with them.

Whilst initially disgusted, the men of Saravana’s ship could not help but stare… years trapped in an all male environment had made them hungry.. starved… ravenous.

TYG boarded their ship peacefully, and Arnav declared a feast to be held in honor of Saravana’s power and size.

That night, the men and women of saravanas crew and TYG dined in the great halls of the ship.
A few ales later, Saravana seemed disturbed.. distracted. A blackened maiden had seemingly caught his eye – the highly coveted Janabi.

At the end of the feast, Saravana stumbled hesitantly to her side of the table. A hush fell across the halls, as he lowered his large frame down on one knee. Quivering, he proceeded to present her with a crumpled boquet of roses, which he drew from his jacket.  Janabi grimaced as Saravana’s words broke the silence – “Janabi…I like you”. She took the flowers from him, not realising what Saravana had truly handed her that evening.. his heart and soul.

Many a day and night passed, and their romance deteriorated. As it did, so did Saravana’s very being. Then came the day that she left him.

The once lively halls of the ship were deserted and gathered dust. The jovial crew, who had once drank and sung and fought together slowly disbanded…The deck of the ship lay deserted. And yet Saravana stood at the helm, his eyes dark – bereft of his heart and soul. He sailed endlessly, lost adrift the unforgiving ocean waves, forging an endless path through the night’s storm.

And in his solitude, sometimes – just sometimes – he would stand in the dark empty dining halls of his ship…close his sunken eyes….… and hear the once jolly singing of his men…taste the sweet pale ale, and feel the summers sunshine upon his face. Then he would open his eyes, and find that it was all but a fading dream.

It was a sunny, fresh morning. The air was crisp, the birds were chirping and the sun was out. Vinnie Balboa arose from a perfect and deep slumber. He was keen to get in a good and meaty feed before the Semi-final confrontations. He was to fight in the morning. His opponent – Habaz “Anger Management” Valentine.  Saralax would follow against the reigning champion  – KD. It was set to be a momentous day.

Both the Cat Sage and Saralax were not to be found in their respective rooms. Perhaps they had set off early for a little training…or eating. Vinnie didn’t mind. He was feeling good. A little time for a solo meal would be great before meeting up with the twitchy teacher and jolly monstrosity.

On the other side of camp, a young man sat seething at his surroundings. He was enjoying his 5th beer of the morning. While refreshing and crisp – he was still getting inevitably upset.

Habaz Valentine was growing impatient. He wanted the champion. He wanted the world to know his name. To be crowned the greatest. The Angriest. He wanted it all – and some lanky, babbling buffoon, and an over indulgent obese man and a mindless zombie weren’t going to get in his way to glory!

He was sobering up now. He had finished his 6 pack and had nothing left to drink until Felicia arrived with more alcohol. It was a bad combination for the angry young warrior.

~

The first semi-final was set to begin. The stage was set and the warriors in their waiting rooms. Vinnie Balboa was feeling a bit of unease with the absence of his two companions. He had not sighted them since the night before, and was wondering where they could possibly be. There was no more time – he would have to

The fight began at unusual haste – all the pre match rituals were now nothing but a passing blur to the focussed warriors. Before either Habaz or Vinnie knew it, they were standing toe to toe in the ring.

Round 1

Habaz came out in round 1 – eyes bloodshot and speech slurred. Ominous signs from the drunken brawler. Felicia, his woman looked on with absolute confidence in her man. Vinnie Balboa stood with no one but his support staff at the corner of the ring. It felt like old times for the hardened veteran.

Habaz strode in casually and staunched up like a body builder at the beach – without the built body part.

He threw a vicious right hook at his larger nemesis. Vinnie couldn’t avoid it or even defend against it. A deafening *THWACK* echoed through the arena.

Vinnie Balboa collapsed instantly, and the crowd roared with primal excitement at the 1 punch man delivering again. It felt like he had been hit by freight train. His vision was blurry and he could hear Saralax singing his jolly meal-time song in his head  …Was he dying? No..Not like this…

7… ♫Yum Yum…Tum tum! ♫

What..7 already…SHIT! Now or never – he mustered up everything he had.

8…

He rose. His left knee shuddered under his own weight. His vision slowly re-focussed. Vinnie Balboa was on his feet, and on the line.

Habaz was already drunkenly trying to start another fight with a nearby audience member. He was clinging by the top rope of the boxing ring – Felicia handing him a victory beer which he sipped slowly.

“Yezz Fok’n Kent! Get in erre’, I’ll knock yer’ teeth out” ranted Habaz, barely coherant.

The audience member looked mortified and stuttered back, “A-All I s-said was goo-ood Fight..” he whimpered, teary eyed.

Habaz glowered back at the useless fellow with his eyes barely in focus. “Yoo stoopid Fool!! Yeez lucky I’m getn’ Thirsty..” he said, before pausing for a second. He only just noticed that the referee had stopped counting.

“Oi – why’z ya’ stop counting aye – can’t you seez – he’s out cold?!” he pointed at the staunched up Vinnie. His eyes widened in disbelief. His opponent was standing. Nobody had stood up after one of his blows. He was the One Punch Man!

“Vhaat the Fu-“ stammered Habaz before Vinnie was on him, capitalising on the distraction.

A Savage right hook to the face. Habaz was reeling as he staggered sideways. It was the first time he had been hit since he discovered the pleasures and powers of alcohol. He was bleeding. It was a bad cut below his left eye.

“I’ve only been hit harder than that by one person in my life – by my master” replied Vinnie, as Habaz was getting riled up by the sight of his own blood as he rubbed his cheek.

And so began the slug fest. Each hit from Habaz felt like being hit by a variety of vehicles. Being struck by the cat sage in Feline Mode had increased Vinnie’s tolerance for pain. It was the only reason he could still stay on his feet – but he was still confined to his human limitations. The beating was far more crippling than he expected. He could save nothing for the final round if he wanted any chance to make it at all.

Round after round passed by like a blur. Habaz was pounding down hard liquor like a starving racoon in the desert. Vinnie Balboa was becoming steadily less coherent with each round, and sounding like a mentally challenged man on muscle relaxants.

One warrior drunk, the other with serious injury. Who would hold out longer! It was a pure test of will – their body’s cried stop, but their spirits cried NEVER!

Somehow – they managed to get within one round of going the distance. The Final round had arrived for the first time this tournament, and both fighters had pushed each other to their most extreme limits.

Round 12 – FINAL ROUND

*DING*

“ADRIAAAN!” screamed Vinnie, mustering up the last of his strength.

“Angg-thd-fnsetoh!!” spouted Habaz, swinging drunkenly at the air at invisible foes that haunted him. He seemed to be having drunken day-terrors. “Angghhaa!!” he screamed.

The two stumbled to the centre of the ring without any grace left in their movements. A gentle breeze would probably have blown either of them over at this point.

There was blood and alcohol all over the floor. It was a mangled warzone.

For a few seconds they just stumbled around each other – tentative and watchful. They knew the one who landed the next blow would settle the score.

Vinnie took a swift left jab and missed. Another…missed again.

Habaz was swaying unpredictably – but it was working in his favour.

He then started laughing at some inside joke to himself, before falling face first into Vinnie – head-butting him and knocking him to the ground. Both were down…and the count began.

1…2…3…4

The two were reeling. Completely exhausted. Nothing but fumes to run on. Vinnie was slowly trying to lift himself up.

5…6…7…

Habaz was snoring, face down on the mat. He tilted his head to the side and threw up a little. Felicia was just nodding her head in dissent at her Significant other’s Drunken shenanigans.

8…

Vinnie was almost on his feet, just a little more….

9…

Habaz was stirring. He wasn’t conscious but his body was moving somehow. Vinnie was almost on his feet.

Vinnie Balboa skidded on some stray malt liquor lying on the ground and slipped backwards; and clumsily toppled above the top rope and out of the ring. “Nooooooo!!!” he screamed, enraged at Habaz and his own misfortune.

10!

It was all over.

Habaz had stood up at the micro-second before the count of 10, his eyes closed and given himself a moment to throw up. He passed out from alcohol a micro-second after falling into his own mess. An ambulance was on stand-by since the seventh round, ready to treat him for alcohol poisoning. Vinnie Balboa had come so close, only to fall short by a fraction of a count. He had failed. His consciousness faded as he lay just outside the ring.

~

It had been a long night and morning for Saralax. No cheeseburgers had been consumed for over twelve hours and Saralax’s stomach was moaning and groaning. His hunger was maddening. His sorrow was more painful still. Few outside the arena would be aware of the events that had transpired in darkness of the previous night. The fall of the great Cat Sage.

Saralax had been tied in a crucifix position in an underground dungeon-like room when he came back into consciousness. Guards had surrounded him, yet he had not spotted Shabz or Leelz. That wretched Leelz. Saralax felt his anger rising.

Saralax was bound completely by chains – his girth fully exposed. The crowd was roaring from above as the last match reached its climax. Who had won? Was Vinnie unaware still of what had transpired the previous night? Saralax needed to break out. Footsteps shook Saralax from his thoughts back into reality.

*Saralax!…Saralax!…Saralax!* the chant echoed from above – he was to fight, but would he have the chance?.

Casimiro paced slowly toward him, toying with a small stiletto, as the arena around them roared and cheered for their favourite rotund fighter to emerge. The hidden chamber was just below the main ring where Saralax was set to fight in the second semi-final clash. They were in a small subterranean alcove that was directly below the apex of the mountain. A secret chamber had been carefully built there for some purpose or another. Shabz stood with a malignant grin painted on his face from a ring-like platform that encircled Saralax, while a small congregation of his own choosing surrounded both Casimiro and the restrained Saralax.

*Saralax!…Saralax!…Saralax!* the crowd above continued to roar.

Casimiro stood face to face with his ensnared captive. The Cat Sage had fallen in the midnight struggle, blindsided by the very man Saralax stared in the face. Vinnie Balboa was recovering from his recent defeat against Habaz, and could not have aided them even if he had known.

*Saralax!…Saralax!…Saralax!*

“’Saralax!…Saralax!…Saralax!’. They call for you…,” whispered Casimiro, mockingly, as he repeated the chorus that echoed from above them before continuing on, “The Champion who became a prisoner…the prisoner who became a Ghost…the Ghost who ‘Leelzed’ the Angel of Death. Striking story.”

Casimiro paused briefly, before continuing to speak. “Now the People want to know how the story ends. Only a famous death will do…and what could be more famous than two undefeated champions of the ring going toe to toe…to the death.”

“Thou ain’t no champion, Leelz” he said, nonchalantly, a laugh escaping him.

“You think I’m afraid of you?!” asked Casimiro, face to face with Saralax. Saralax spotted a quiver in Casimiro’s eye and smiled nonchalantly. He required no further answer.

“Gobba’…Me thinks you’ve been afraid all thee life…” whispered Saralax, calmly.

“Unlike Saralax, The All-Consuming! Who knows no fear…!” spat Casimiro, “Well…you are half right. I won’t be the one to finish you. You have a match that is about to start. Champion vs Champion. Your last battle…”

Saralax smiled.

“Me knew a man who once told me, ‘Shima smiles on us all. All a man can do is shima back.’ ”

“Quiet you fat fool! Your gibberish means nothing to me” retorted Casimiro.

“Hurry up, Casimiro…It is time” interrupted Shabz, knowing the crowd was going restless.

Casimiro smiled. That familiar devious, superior grin etched into his face.

“Come Master, let us embrace one last time. For old time’s sake.” said Casimiro as he stood face to face with Saralax, embracing him with a hug. There was a slight pause, followed by the sound of sharp metal piercing flesh.

Suddenly Saralax’s vision blurred. He coughed up some blood. A dagger was pulled out of his gut and he was bleeding…heavily. Saralax would have collapsed if he wasn’t being held up by the ropes. Casimiro backed off – a malignant grin on his face. And a bloody stiletto in hand.

Saralax could hear the distant laughter of two children somewhere in the deep, dark recesses of his mind.  Memories of a life long since forgotten, flashes that a man would only get when bordering death.

Two children trekking through a toxic wasteland. Brothers – being torn apart by a Large, fat scientist and his son – with perfectly round spectacles. “Go Brother!” Screamed the elder “Go Brother!”, while restrained by the fat scientist – urging the little one to escape.

The fat little brother was running away. Repeating the phrase “Go Brother…Go Brother..” tears falling from his eyes. “GobRuda…Gobrudaa..” he kept screaming as he ran and ran and his words lost meaning…”Gobba..Gobba…Gobba” were the last words echoing in his head.

“His fat will cover the wound – he has maybe 15-20 minutes left. Begin the match before he drops dead” commanded Shabz from his vantage point.

He could see the younger brothers face now. Chubby and jolly. A younger version of himself – surely. And the older brother – half the size of the younger but with greyish-white eyes. There was life in them though – love, compassion. They seemed familiar but not – at the same time.

His surroundings had changed. He was still on his feet, but he swayed meekly. He has already lost a lot of blood. The wound was critical.

He was standing in the ring now – and KD standing corpse like in the corner. Vinnie was nowhere on the sidelines.

That face…those cold,greyish- white eyes. They had the same eyes!

“Gobba…?!” he muttered to himself.

KD. It was KD – his older brother. What cruel fate would reveal such a thing to a man facing his own mortality. To die in the ring against a brother that no longer recognized him. No…He would make KD remember him…

Round 1 *Ding Ding*

The starting round was tentative and no brutal blows were thrown by either combatant. The crowd was roaring. The fighters were building up the tension – feeling each other out with jabs here and there. No-one seemed to notice the blood slowly dripping from Saralax’s body.

Shabz was smiling with whip in hand as KD circled his weakened opponent. Saralax could not summon Feline Mode at his level. He didn’t have the energy. He would have to fight with his remaining strength.

Round 2 *Ding*

Things changed quickly in the second round. Shabz was crackling his whip, signalling KD to attack.

The group known as Covenant of Cheese were chanting from the sidelines while humming the McDonalds theme music.

♫ “I’m Lovin’ it” ♫     ♫ “I’m Lovin’ it” ♫      ♫ “I’m Lovin’ it” ♫

Saralax had to wake up his big brother. He counter attacked with all his weight and Feline Fu. Each hit sent vibrations to the crowd through the sheer force.

Right hook from KD sent Saralax reeling!

A bear hug from Saralax crushed the zombie like warrior’s very bones.

A series of jab’s at Saralax followed by enhanced blows to the already damaged mid-section!

It was warfare that the crowd yearned for. A battle of life and death. But it meant more to Saralax – he had a new mission he had not foreseen.

The round ended with both warriors far more damaged than they had ever been seen in the ring.

The crowd loved it. It was a Finals clash in the semi-finals itself.

Round 3 *Ding*

This was it. Saralax was at his limit – he could not survive a drawn out fight. He had lost too much blood. He had definitely weakened KD – but not enough to shake his senses back into him. There was one move left. A move that would surely kill any normal human being. But not his brother – not his own warrior bloodline.

Saralax did a backward somersault with an unreal level of buoyancy – as if on the moon. He landed on top rope of the ring, as KD watched on – breathing heavily. The rope sunk under Saralax’s weight all the way to the floor. “Time to wake thee up, Big Brudda’” whispered Saralax to himself, before launching him-self more than 15 feet into the air.

The shadow of death covered the entire ring. There was no escape – from the-

“SHIMABOW…OFF THE TOP ROPE!!!!” Roared Saralax, bringing momentum and sheer mass raining down from the heavens.

A brutal, unavoidable King Hit from above. Destination Fucked!

The Body Slam from Saralax sent a quake-like shockwave that echoed endlessly across the entire island and was accompanied by scream of pure agony from KD. The Shimabow off the top rope was truly devastating and neighbouring on the inhumane.

KD was not moving.

Saralax was bleeding out, but conscious.

They were both down…with neither seemingly capable of rising to their feet. The count began…

1…

2…

3…

 

Up Next: An Origin Story – Saralax and KD

The trees never grew here. The flowers never blossomed. It rained water sometimes, acid other times. The climate was the polar opposite of what a human would call liveable.

The toxic fumes seemed to randomly double the gravity itself in this forsaken land. The weather changed by the hour. Storms, harsh winds, extreme desert heat – This was the land where the rules of nature ceased to exist.

Human occupation had been deemed impossible after thousands had lost their lives in the attempt. Only the strongest creatures – those that had evolved quickly to adapt, had managed to survive. It was a strange sight to these super-creatures, to see 2 young boys walking nonchalantly in their land. Or at least – it would have been, had they not been in constant conflict since their arrival.

The desolate wasteland was once called “Homebush” when humans still roamed freely upon it – These days, its only remaining name was “God’s Graveyard”.

A fat, brown skinned little boy skipped in a jovial manner behind a second, smaller brown boy. The smaller boy had a far more serious glint in his greyish-white eyes. He was lean and fierce. He had a head almost fully covered with jet black hair. The sun glistened off a small patch of hairlessness on his head, a perfect bald patch, into the fat boy’s eyes who was trailing him. It was causing the fat boy much agitation as he squinted ahead.

The smaller boy was focussed on his mission and refused to be detracted from his goal. Lives depended on it. Theirs.

“Vat we huntn’, Brudda?” said the fat one, his voice as squeaky as a 5 year old.

“Food…The Cow should be near.” replied the small boy, before looking at the skies. The winds had changed. It was an uncomfortable calm.

“Storms a-comin’, Sara,” He said, surveying his surroundings tentatively, “We may not eat tonight after-all – looks like acid-rain. Best find some shelter and continue the hunt at daybreak. Go Brother!”

The fat boy called Sara gave the skinny one a dumbfounded look of shock. He was hungry. To be fair, he was always hungry. But the prospect of a fresh hunt being robbed from them was about as disappointing as anything to the rotund rapscallion.

“But…But…KD?!” stuttered the hungry chubby lad, bitter with disappointment.

The two kids, Sara and KD, had lived in God’s Graveyard since youth. Causing a ruckus and growing strong from their harsh environment. The average human would have perished within hours where these two had found a way to survive years. Their whole lives. Average…

It would be accurate to say these two had far transcended what any would constitute as average…

~

The morning dawned with new opportunity for the two brothers to continue their hunt. They were quick to ready once Sara’s groaning stomach awoke the skinny boy from his slumber. They began tracking the cow from the previous night before the sun had even risen – before coming across a sound they had not heard in many years. Another human voice.

“Ahhh…HELP!” shrieked someone in the distance. KD and Sara were quick to react and ran toward the voice. They had not met with another person in years. The few they had met had ventured into God’s Graveyard unaware of the dangers, and their life lines were cut abruptly short. If it wasn’t the animals, it was the weather. If it wasn’t the weather, it was the scarcity of resources. God’s Graveyard was unrelenting in its ability to weed out the weak.

A pudgy boy was cowering before the “cow” they were hunting. He wore perfectly round glasses, had slightly dishevelled clothing and reeked of fear. He appeared to have soiled his pants and seemed resigned to his gruesome fate. Forgivable for an outsider facing a Homebush Cow…

This was no ordinary cow by any means, it was a Great Cow of Homebush. As big as an ancient Tyrannosaurus Rex. The few bovines that remained in God’s Graveyard had adapted to the harshest of climates – into monsters that could hunt virtually any organism in the outside world, and they did so without hesitation. KD was quick to jump into action. He leapt behind the creature and ran/jumped up skilfully towards its head. He had managed to secure a sharp stick and impaled the mighty beast from the head. It only maddened it further. It’s skin was too thick to pierce far enough to kill.

Sara ran to the almost equally rotund boy’s aid, while KD distracted the wild beast. While the beast focussed on removing KD from it’s head, they retreated to cover. KD was soon to follow, using his wit to baffle the large bovine.

They escaped with ease thanks to the quick movements of the skinny young warrior.

~

The boy previously under siege had a very doughy physique, and seemed very slow in his walking pace. Even Sara with all his excess mass was outwalking him considerably. It caused the two brothers frustration as the boy just kept stopping, walking slowly and talked to prevent them gaining any traction on him while leading him out of their land.

“I’m Shabz. I got separated from my Papa. He is a great scientist. We were doing research on the ecosystem of God’s Graveyard.” he said, matter-of-factly, “You know. They say anything that can survive out here becomes super-strong beyond limitations of any normal human. You two must be amazing…”

Sara was instantly fond of this suck-up employing newcomer and quick to join his side. KD stared watchfully and with uncertainty though – while guiding them out. He was tentative about what this chubster’s true intentions may be, and why he would wander so willingly to certain doom to get it.

“Beware the Greedy hand of Man” His Mother had once told him when Sara was still and infant.

~

They had guided the poor lad to the outskirts of God’s Graveyard. Danger was far more limited out here – as the animals of God’s Graveyard sensed the weakness that resided outside their domain and avoided it altogether. They had all adapted to be the warrior species of the planet and would not sully themselves outside God’s Graveyard.

The three boys sat the borders at a large clearing outside the jungle. It was like the edge of two different worlds merging. An Oasis without conflict. An hour of the fat guest talking to Sara while KD sat stoically passed, before a mechanical sound greeted their ears. Something unfamiliar to KD and Sara, but that gave Shabz reason to smirk slyly.

An enormous man cruised into the clearing riding in on a roaring motorcycle. He pulled over and took off his helmet.

Jym Seabrook, Scientist and Geneticist slid off his motorcycle. A neat, auburn coloured beard covered his face. He had gigantic thighs, scantily flaunted VIA bush-man shorts and a T-shirt. He had a fairly portly belly and wore a bush-man’s hat.

“Daddy!” squealed Shabz, a wry smile appearing on his face. He ran to the fat scientist’s side and looked back at his two saviours with a devious glint in his eye. “Look what I found!” he said, a devious glint in his eyes.

It happened so suddenly. White vans had enclosed around KD and Sara.

A group of scientists appeared as if out of nowhere and surrounded the two. They wore white lab coats, and had ominous smirks on their face. They were armed with batons to subdue their would-be prey.

Jym began to speak. “You two best surrender if you want to avoid being hurt. I very much wanted to meet some human survivors of God’s Graveyard. I heard rumours there were but a few that remained. What a delight” he said, giddy with excitement. Shabz joined him by his side. KD glared at him, hatred in his eyes. Sara was confused and hungry. The situation seemed tense and hopeless to the dynamic duo.

An old man stepped out of one of the trucks expectedly. Old was possibly an understatement as this man was practically a decrepit fossil. He was mostly balding, and worse thick glasses. He wore a neat blue sweater and it seemed like a gentle breeze would knock him over.

“Jym…take a new page, and with a red pen – rule a margin…” he murmured, clearly unaware of his surroundings and completely senile.

“Dammit, Old man! Get back in the truck, this isn’t a damn classroom” yelled Jym Seabrook, turning his attention to the old fossil.

“Now repeat after me – “je m’appelle-”-“ replied the old man out of context, before being interrupted.

“This isn’t French Class, Grandpa McMurtrie” squeaked Shabz, exacerbated at the distraction being caused and wondering why his father had brought him along.

It was too late. KD sensed his moment. This distraction he needed had come at a most opportune moment. He rammed head –first into a scientist whose attention was on the old French teacher. The scientist crumpled instantly and lost consciousness.

Sara quivered in fear as KD took down one scientist after the other. KD’s eyes darted quickly between the participants in the enclosing circle of people – looking for some weakness.

KD was winning. He had subdued all the scientists through sheer brute force. Even unarmed, his upbringing in the harsh climates of God’s Graveyard had given him superhuman strength. He had twice the strength of a fully grown male who had dedicated his whole life to the fine craft of martial arts. Only a surprise could overcome the hardened warrior…His eyes turned to the miscreant that had led them here. Shabz.

Shabz slowly started stepping backwards, tears forming in his eyes. What chance did a human child have against a monster who was raised in such terrain.

Sara’s eyes were stuck at a point behind KD. “Brudaaa!!” he wailed in a high pitched voice.

An enormous shadow had crept up from behind and within an instant it was all over.

Sweaty, glistening thighs crushed KD from the neck – slowly draining him of access to oxygen. He was completely at Jym Seabrook’s mercy. The size of those thighs made it obvious they were inescapable. The power, and strength of them combined with getting the surprise jump on the young ten year old. The stench of sweat upon them was nauseating and KD was losing consciousness. He saw Sara cowering and frozen with fear. There was only one hope now…

KD knew he was done…but Sara could still get away. His little brother still had a chance.

“RUN, Sara! GO NOW!”, yelled KD, drawing in what little oxygen he could.

“GO Brother!” he yelled. Sara hesitated. He always obeyed his big brother, but this felt wrong.

“GO BROTHER, NOW!!!” He commanded, his neck firmly locked within the scientists thighs.

Sara struggled to move one foot, than the other. The fear was truly numbing for the ball shaped 5 year old. Jym Seabrook had high thighs tied restraining KD. Shabz may have been older than Sara – but he knew he stood no chance and did not give chase.

“GO BROTHER!” he could still hear the echo’s reaching him from the forest.

Tears were falling from his eyes. There was a great sadness and pain causing him to clutch at his chest. It wasn’t physical. He had lost something invaluable this day.

“Go Brodda…Go Brodda” he kept repeating as he wept and ran. The words were becoming garbled and meaningless.

“Gobraah..Gobraahh”

“Gobba…Gobba”

He had escaped. But into an unfamiliar world he would have to face…all alone.

~

He was running for days, maybe even weeks before he came to a gigantic signpost. His tears had long since dried up and his eyes were completely swollen – inhibiting his sight. His throat was scratchy, his skin dry & patchy. Starving and thirsty – it was highly fortunate he was met by his first trace of external civilization. A signpost.

He squinted hard at the sign for several seconds, deep in thought and analysing the words on the board meticulously with his swollen eyes. It took a whole minute for the young brigand to realise he had never learnt to read and was in all actuality –a complete illiterate. Little did he know the board read:

Now entering the City of Lidshire.

McDonalds – 200 metres

He walked not far past the sign board, before coming upon a lone, massive palace. Golden and red – it was a sight of true beauty. Something the jungle surviving young Sara had never witnessed in his lifetime. As he walked closer to the structure, he noticed someone standing outside.

A man with fire red hair, wild & bushy, and white paint on his face – stood outside a large building. He was coolly smoking a cigarette while leaning against a pole. He was wearing a yellow jumpsuit with red and white striped sleeves. His attention turned to Sara.

“You look hungry Lad.” said the clown, looking curiously at the rotund rapscallion.

“Gobba…” muttered Sara, meekly.

“Come with me. I’ll get you fixed up, son. You can eat as much as you want here.” said the Clown, flicking his cigarette to the ground and stepping on it with his oversized feet. He had a big, benign smile painted on his face. Sara trusted him for some reason.

As the clown made his way to the entrance, he paused before pushing through the door.

“Oh, the name is Ron by the way.” He said, looking back at the quiet boy tailing him. Sara looked back quizzically at Ron. An awkward silence ensued, before Ron continued through the door. The sweet smell of food aroused all of Sara’s senses in the brief instance the door was opened. Something was cooking. Something quite delectable indeed.  Salvation…

He looked up at the clown’s house.

A Big Golden insignia “M” beamed back at him, and with it – hope for the future.

Up Next: Back to the story – Saralax the All-Consuming Dies in the Ring

In the darkness of Vinnie Balboa’s cell, Angel of Death places the knife at Vinnie’s throat. Vinnie Balboa is awake. His eyes widen in shock.

VB: (whispering) what?

AoD: The Mexican homies sent me to waste you…

VB: get it over with. I ain’t like livin’ in this goddam cage anyways

AoD: Shhh. I’m here to bust you out of here

VB: w-what? Why are you doing this

AoD: We don’t have much time. They’ve sent a couple more assassins to watch my back… they’ll be here any –

*AoD lowers the knife from Vinnie Balboas throat, From the Background shadows, 2 homies appear. They have overheard that AoD is betraying them to save VB. They are large, muscle bound thugs*

Thug1: Homie.. you would throw away your loyalty and honour, to save this PUTA?

Thug2: I looked up to you homes. Now I gotta waste you cuz

*The 2 thugs attack AoD. AoD dodges the attacks, and counters with swift, fluid and crushing combinations. Thug1 gets knocked out. Thug2 pulls a knife, and swipes at AoD. AoD gets slashed across the chest. AoD pulls his own knife, and expertly neutralises Thug2. AoD crouches over the body of Thug2, and whispers a silent prayer for forgiveness…He stands, and instructs Vinnie balboa to follow him*

*The men run through the dark prison, sticking to shadows. They arrive at an unlocked door, where a car is waiting. It is pitch  black outside,  Brucie is waiting for them at the door.*

VB: Brucie? No Brucie, you could get in a lotta , uh, trouble for this

Brucie: Go son, go! I’ve arranged for you to start working at a reputable company. There’s a flight organised to take you far away from this place. You can start over, my boy

VB: B-Brucie…I don’t know what to say Brucie.

*Prisoners are shouting. The 2 incapacitated Thugs have been found. The prisoners are rioting. Emergency alarms begin to sound.*

AoD: Go now. There isn’t much time.

VB: You.. you done me a big service. I gotta know your name.. P-please, why are you helping me? I ain’t done nothing to deserve this

AoD: I have no name. I am the Angel of Death. If I can save just one life, perhaps God will forgive me for those I have taken

VB: you gotta have a name though, everybody got a name

AoD: *smiles* On the outside… they called me.. Casimiro…

*Prisoners have broken free of their cells. Guards have lost control – many are wounded and some are dead. A mob of 30 prisoners is fast approaching AOD, Brucie and VB*

Brucie: GO NOW!!

*VB runs towards the waiting car. The engine is started, the driver ready to go. VB jumps in the car and it begins to speed off. He turns to see prisoners have swarmed Brucie, who is on the ground. AoD is fighting the mob, throwing visious combinations. Shattering jaws and crunching through ribcages…perhaps he will one day find redemption in the glory of combat…*

VB: (being driven away at speed) NOOOO BRUCIE!

*Several weeks have passed. VB is seen in a suit, entering a flashy building. Through a window, the Opera House is visible…*

Worker1: Morning Vinnie, come with me I’ll introduce you to the team.

VB: Uh, yea no problem, guy

Worker 1: I think you’ll enjoy your time here at the Bank of Australian Nationals… or BAN for short!

VB: uh yea, I uh, I think I like it already..

Worker1: You come very highly recommended from Brucie

VB: Brucie…

*As they are strolling through the office, a man bumps into Vinnie Balboa, spilling his coffee on Vinnie’s new suit*

Worker2: Watch it mate!

Vinnie Balboa: Why don’t YOU watch it? I should make you clean this up, ya know, but I’m a good guy. I’m not a fighter no more

Worker2: Fuck you, idiot

*Vinnie Balboa throws a cross, knocking the man out. A nearby receptionist begins to scream in terror*

 

Up Next: The 9 to 5 Chronicles

*VB walks around the office in a suit, coffee in hand. The aloof corporate gaze and smug smile ‘Good-morning’ is now second nature to VB. Yet somewhere, deep in the murky corners of his mind, he longs for his past…He longs to fight*

*Cut to scene at front of the office building. The working day is just beginning, and several people in suits/corporate dresses are scurrying through the massive lobby. VB is seen in a shmick suit, striding towards the elevator*

Worker1: Vinnie Balboa! Goodmorning

VB: Morning

Worker2: Morning Vinnie, heading up?

VB: Morning, uh yea

*both men step into the elevator. It is crowded. VB is visibly irritated by the tight squeeze*

Worker2: How’s the weekend?

VB: yea good, you know

Worker2: What’d you get up to

VB: Why don’t  you mind your own goddam business

*the people in the elevator are visibly shocked. They all remain silent.*

Worker2 (thinks it’s a joke): hahaha! You’re too much Vinnie Balboa!

VB: How about I, uh, break your face? How would you like that

Worker2: HAHAHAA! You’re killing me!

*VB lashes out, grabbing the man in a headlock. The worker is coughing/choking*

VB: How’s that for a joke? You ain’t laughing too much now, are ya?

*Worker2 is knocked out. He lies sprawled on the elevator floor. Suddenly, the doors open, and the CEO of BAN steps in. He is in a gleaming suit*

CEO: Morning

VB: Morning, sir

CEO *glances at man on floor* : What’s happened here?

VB: I don’t think he is doing too good. Must’ve had a rough weekend

CEO: well… yes. And how are you Vinnie Balboa?

VB: I’m not doing too good sir, you see… I’m a fighter. I don’t do too good in suits. I want you to know that you have a fine bank here…but maybe it’s not for me no more

CEO: I’m sorry to hear that. Your attitude is not great, I’d like to take this opportunity to informally dismiss you from your role

*Elevator doors open. The CEO is stepping out. As the doors open, so does a floodgate in Vinnie Balboa’s soul. A pure rage, unlike any force on earth, seethes through his being. White, hot, blissful fury*

VB: Hey, CEO sir… I gotta tell you something else that’s been on my mind

*VB walks out of elevator to the CEO. He begins to pound him. First a push. As he stumbles, VB throws a hard right cross, rolling into a thunderous left uppercut. Several office workers swarm, restraining him. VB is shouting incoherently. The CEO is knocked out cold*

*VB knocks out a few office workers before he is restrained fully. Police have entered the building. Vinnie Balboa is placed under arrest. Cut to courtroom scene*

Judge: Vinnie Balboa.. you are a violent, stupid man. You unable to control your rage, much like an angry child

Vinnie Balboa: Your honor, sir, that’s not true. I’m a good man, I just –

Judge: I’ve heard enough. You’re an idiot. A fool, who has no place in civilised society. Even prison is too good for you

Vinnie Balboa: what, you think you’re better than me? ALL YOU THINK YOU BETTER THAN ME? I DON’T DO TOO GOOD WITH INSULTS, YOU KNOW

Judge: SHUTTUP YOU GODDAM ANIMAL

VB: I oughtta knock you out, you know that? I ain’t no animal. It’s fancy pants people like you, in their suits, that’s the animals..

Judge: I sentence you to exile. You will live at least 500kn from any established city or town. The bush is where animals like you belong…

 

Up Next – Outback Fighter