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…