His velvety, brown eyes pierced deep into Vinnie. It was as though they had the hunger to feast on Vinnie’s soul. Their stony gaze filled with the desire to feed off infinity itself.
His eccentric appearance only further confirmed his identity. Atop his head was a hollowed out half-watermelon which he donned as an unholy crown. A white towel was tied around his neck, draping down his back as a cape with a crude yellow spray painted insignia – The Big McDonalds golden arches – “M”. His t-shirt was far too small for his girth and could only reach as far as a few centimetres below his teets. His rotund belly practically reached his knees – making it seem like he wasn’t wearing any form of leg wear. His beard was rugged and strong, the hair on his head dishevelled and other-worldly. He had the distinct cologne consisting of sandalwood, citrus and most identifiably of all – Big Mac sauce.
His appearance would have been almost comical, if not for his obvious destructive capacity and barbaric history in the ring. He had a post-match ritual of placing two McDonald’s cheese burger patties on the eyes of his fallen victims to mark their defeat. His personalized method of marking his conquered territory.
But one day he simply vanished off the face of the earth. As the years went by, his name was heard less and less, until only hush whispers of his greatness were whispered in only the most loyal of circles. The cult-like group that still remained loyal were known as the “Holy Covenant of Cheese”. Rumour had it that he had gone insane and been locked up in a mental asylum in some far off country long ago.
Vinnie was drawn back into reality when Shabz spoke.
“Saralax “The all-consuming” Kulanburger…,” Said Shabz in equal awe as Vinnie, his voice trembling in introducing the entrant who needed no introduction, “Is the eighth and final fighter. His reputation as-“.
Vinnie interrupted him before he wasted more words, “I know all about the man…the legend. They say he vanished, years before I even began fighting…” . His opponents suffered from horrific fates far worse than death itself. Words could not do justice to those who had fallen across his path. Could Vinnie really fight in a tournament with this mass of pure monstrosity…? No there could be nothing to get in the way of his vengeance.
“Nice to meecha, Gobba’. Didn’t know them Peeps’ outside still knew me name” Said Saralax in a hearty, country voice.
“Name is Vinnie, Sir. You were known as one of the best on the outside. Meeting you in person, is both glorious… and horrifying…”
“Sir?! Gobba’, You best be watchn’ them words. I like my peeps strong and arrogant. Like young Leelz over here used to be. Get in here Leelz!” Retorted Saralax.
He saw Saralax gripping a metal leash which was still attached to something behind the door. Vinnie had heard rumours of what Saralax did to his strongest foes. The frightful fate of the foes he dominated into become…his “Leelz”. His own personal pet dog to stay bound to him until another stronger foe piqued his interest.
“Leelz” was the name he would give to the foes that really challenged him, before falling at his feet. The arrogant foes were the ones Saralax enjoyed the most to bend to his will. The crawling man’s face was fully covered by a black latex mask – providing no eye sockets for any sight. He was on his hands and knees crawling blindly through the door. He had on a knee pads and gloves along with black latex shorts. No shirt. Leelz struggled to find its owners legs and hugged them submissively. There were bruises and whip marks all over the man’s back, a sign of his training.
Rumour had it that whenever “Leelz” misbehaved in front of company, the two would often disappear for weeks on end. Whenever questioned on the disappearance – He would say the most ominous words a man could ever hear. “Leelz needed a walk…”
Vinnie’s heart skipped a beat. He eyes a familiar tattoo on the man’s upper arm. That of a man carrying the corpse of his fallen love…This “Leelz”…it was Casimiro “The Portuguese”. That tattoo was unmistakeable. This was Vinnie’s long term rival that disappeared a year ago. Was this the horrific fate that had met him…
Vinnie trembled at the fate that hat met his nemesis. A Fate worse than death, that was. Shabz on the other hand grinned smugly. Almost… knowingly. This promoter enraged Vinnie to his very core. “Well…if you agree. The both of you will be released today. The tournament is 4 months from today, on the 13th of May. You’ll have to leave your fellow prisoner behind, Saralax”.
Saralax cursed some jibberish-based obscenities.
However, in both their eyes burned an unyielding fury for the opportunity that had arisen. It was decided, and Shabz smiled before leaving without words. The response was written on their faces.
Vinnie and Saralax were released into the world with a 4 month window before the great tournament. 4 Months to prepare for their destiny. Both looked at each other, knowing their connection to the real world had been severed long ago. What good was separating?
Vinnie recalled distant memories of his training at Mick’s gym, where the now deceased old man had spoken of an old friend. A master martial artist who had escaped the material world to a jungle near their already out-of-the-way prison.
The mysterious recluse and acclaimed Cat-worshipper. Santiago, the Cat Sage and Feline-Fu master.
Perhaps there, the unusual duo would find a way to prepare…
Up Next: The Reclusive Cat Sage – The Rigorous Training Begins