War of the Chaos Beast: Chapter Two
The introduction of Victor and Chang-Ming, more questions about the rider.
Chapter Two - More dreamers
Dria and Lisa weren't the only dreamers. Others had the dreams or nightmares as some would call them.
One was Victor 'The Destroyer' Garcia. He was a monster of a man at six foot ten and well over three hundred fifty pounds. He had about five pounds of fat on his entire body and looked like he was cut out of granite. Right now he was occupied in one of the few jobs he could get, and it wasn't a legal one. He had done some time in prison for assault, extortion and various other misdemeanors. Most looked at his record and size then said no. The tats didn't help either. It wasn't that he was a bad man he was just blessed/cursed with that rare combination of size and power that scared people. In prison he tried to get his life straight and for the most part it worked but still he was limited by his appearance. Right now it was his appearance that help him though.
There was someone even bigger than he was standing across from him in a drained swimming pool. People of all stripes surrounded the pool placing bets that went from fifty bucks in to the thousands of dollars on the outcome. Victors official job was a strip club bouncer but he supplemented his income with underground fights. On a good night he would make roughly a couple hundred from the bouncing and a few thousand from the fighting. He had rapidly become an underground legend in Detroit, so much so that no one local wanted to face him. To that end a dream match was set up. Joe 'Tank' Simpson was flown in from Hells Kitchen since he faced the same issue.
Tank was near four hundred pounds and just under seven feet tall. This was a match that had people flocking in from as far away as Kansas city and 'scouts' from other cities that were looking for future similar match ups. Neither fighter paid much attention to what was going on around them, they were engaged in a stare down that would cower most men. When the bell rang It got brutal.
Victor launched a shot that was just for testing the strength of Tank and found he lived up to his name. Even Victor was trying to feel his hand after making contact with this beast's head but he had a secret. The report on Victor was he got stronger as the fight went on and it was true but he had no idea why. Truth was he was one of the heroes and his gift was gaining strength from most forms of energy, including kinetic. Tank just laughed and sent his huge fist in to Victor's head. Despite rolling with the hit it sent him reeling but didn't knock him down.
"Damm, I actually felt that. Thank you sir may I have another."
Tank just grinned and obliged gladly. After each shot victor just smiled even more and replied with "Thank you sir, may I have another." By the time the fifteenth shot landed Victor made a show of falling and took the entire time allowed to get back up. Tank was beginning to look worried. Few had taken more than five hits from him and still stood, fewer still stood after ten, but this man was smiling and laughing after fifteen had rained down on his head and torso. He decided to finally end it but Victor had other ideas.
The giant fist came for his head but with incredible speed was blocked and countered by a shot to tanks head that resulted in a sickening crunch of the big man's nose. Victor let that soak in as four rapid fire shots hit on either side of Tank's ribs breaking a few of them. The staggered tank still had a few hits to take though. Victor slowly stalked his foe and sent a shot to the side of tank's head that nearly tore it off. A next shot caught his head as it flying from the right hook with a left leaving it to stop suddenly. Tank was out on his feet but Victor wasn't done yet. A size eighteen boot stole what air his foe had in his lungs and an upper cut actually took the man off his feet and sent him back five feet before tank landed in a thud that actually caused the surface under him to break.
The destroyer lived up to his name and collected his cut. Tank had to be dragged out of the pool while Victor walked out with a good haul of thirty grand. He didn't stick around to shake hands or pose for pictures. He hated the people that bet on those fights but he liked their money. He was a divided man though. In the arena be it a drained pool or dingy nightclub he was brutal but outside that he was one of the nicest guys you would ever meet. He once chased down a purse snatcher for a perfect stranger and refused to take anything for it. He gave most of his money to worthy causes and buying things for people that were homeless. He didn't even own a car and lived in a small room at an extended stay hotel. He broke up fights, helped any one that asked and was an all around good Samaritan. Victor couldn't explain why he got stronger as he got hit but it worked for him.
He was not a book smart man by any stretch, just a guy that could take a hit and he used what he had well. The thing that he hated was the dreams of having to forcibly separate friends from killing each other. The dreams of kicking what he could only assume was an army of evil soldiers ass though made him happy. He felt a sense of purpose from them but what that purpose was, escaped him. Every night it was the same dream and even with his limited intelligence he knew some thing was coming.
Chang Ming felt the same thing. He dreamt of a dark figure on a horse. The only thing blacker than the horse was the rider. He watched as the dark one reached in to shadows and pulled out whatever weapon he needed while his fists glowed with bright light. Something told him that was rider was a friend but not one that could be trusted despite the common foe.
Strangely he was at peace with the dreams as were his fore fathers who had them. They tried to interpret them but never fully succeeded. The young man was both scholar and warrior. It was hard to tell what he desired more, the pursuit of perfecting all the fighting styles he could find someone to teach him or the desire to learn. If he wasn't in a dojo he was reading or in class. Both were a thirst that could never be satisfied. The only mystery he could never solve was that of the legendary Guthbrander.
It had been an obsession with his family. All they could really find on this figure was that he appeared in the more obscure Norse legends and was said to have a sword even greater than Adonis spear or Thors hammer. It was also said that even gods feared him. Beyond that nothing solid was found besides small stories of encounters with him. Most of those texts and stories were dismissed as made up any way, though something told him it was real even if he couldn't prove it.
Chang was a natural in unarmed combat that surprised every master he trained under. None of then could figure out how he picked up the styles so fast. Things that took a lifetime to master he mastered in months and it was the same with his teachers in intellectual pursuits. He seemed to have a brain that soaked in facts like a sponge that never went dry. He never got enough of either. If only he could unravel the legend of Guthbrander and figure out the dreams hew would be happy. Little did he know that soon he would get at least one of his wishes.
***********************************************************
The bean counters were hitting the point of hysteria as the numbers got even worse. It was time to call in the big favor now. He picked up the phone and it yielded results. Those that would be called were going to be and a sense of relief spread through the room.
**********************************************************
The rider kept up his lonely vigil on Dria until a silent figure came up behind him.
"Is it time yet?" he asked in the bass growl that passed as his voice.
"Soon," the voice of an eight year old boy said as he stepped from the shadows,"Soon it will be done. You will have the chance to redeem yourself and be with her."
"Bout time. What will they know of the first attempt?" He asked without turning around.
The boy stood next to the rider and looked at Dria. "Little but what their dreams have told them. It will come back in time. Let it come on its own. For now watch the siren and keep her safe. The gathering will come soon."
"Good but you know the deal. This is it. When done I get my family back and you leave me alone."
The boy had already vanished but a word on the wind remained.
"Agreed."
Dria and Lisa weren't the only dreamers. Others had the dreams or nightmares as some would call them.
One was Victor 'The Destroyer' Garcia. He was a monster of a man at six foot ten and well over three hundred fifty pounds. He had about five pounds of fat on his entire body and looked like he was cut out of granite. Right now he was occupied in one of the few jobs he could get, and it wasn't a legal one. He had done some time in prison for assault, extortion and various other misdemeanors. Most looked at his record and size then said no. The tats didn't help either. It wasn't that he was a bad man he was just blessed/cursed with that rare combination of size and power that scared people. In prison he tried to get his life straight and for the most part it worked but still he was limited by his appearance. Right now it was his appearance that help him though.
There was someone even bigger than he was standing across from him in a drained swimming pool. People of all stripes surrounded the pool placing bets that went from fifty bucks in to the thousands of dollars on the outcome. Victors official job was a strip club bouncer but he supplemented his income with underground fights. On a good night he would make roughly a couple hundred from the bouncing and a few thousand from the fighting. He had rapidly become an underground legend in Detroit, so much so that no one local wanted to face him. To that end a dream match was set up. Joe 'Tank' Simpson was flown in from Hells Kitchen since he faced the same issue.
Tank was near four hundred pounds and just under seven feet tall. This was a match that had people flocking in from as far away as Kansas city and 'scouts' from other cities that were looking for future similar match ups. Neither fighter paid much attention to what was going on around them, they were engaged in a stare down that would cower most men. When the bell rang It got brutal.
Victor launched a shot that was just for testing the strength of Tank and found he lived up to his name. Even Victor was trying to feel his hand after making contact with this beast's head but he had a secret. The report on Victor was he got stronger as the fight went on and it was true but he had no idea why. Truth was he was one of the heroes and his gift was gaining strength from most forms of energy, including kinetic. Tank just laughed and sent his huge fist in to Victor's head. Despite rolling with the hit it sent him reeling but didn't knock him down.
"Damm, I actually felt that. Thank you sir may I have another."
Tank just grinned and obliged gladly. After each shot victor just smiled even more and replied with "Thank you sir, may I have another." By the time the fifteenth shot landed Victor made a show of falling and took the entire time allowed to get back up. Tank was beginning to look worried. Few had taken more than five hits from him and still stood, fewer still stood after ten, but this man was smiling and laughing after fifteen had rained down on his head and torso. He decided to finally end it but Victor had other ideas.
The giant fist came for his head but with incredible speed was blocked and countered by a shot to tanks head that resulted in a sickening crunch of the big man's nose. Victor let that soak in as four rapid fire shots hit on either side of Tank's ribs breaking a few of them. The staggered tank still had a few hits to take though. Victor slowly stalked his foe and sent a shot to the side of tank's head that nearly tore it off. A next shot caught his head as it flying from the right hook with a left leaving it to stop suddenly. Tank was out on his feet but Victor wasn't done yet. A size eighteen boot stole what air his foe had in his lungs and an upper cut actually took the man off his feet and sent him back five feet before tank landed in a thud that actually caused the surface under him to break.
The destroyer lived up to his name and collected his cut. Tank had to be dragged out of the pool while Victor walked out with a good haul of thirty grand. He didn't stick around to shake hands or pose for pictures. He hated the people that bet on those fights but he liked their money. He was a divided man though. In the arena be it a drained pool or dingy nightclub he was brutal but outside that he was one of the nicest guys you would ever meet. He once chased down a purse snatcher for a perfect stranger and refused to take anything for it. He gave most of his money to worthy causes and buying things for people that were homeless. He didn't even own a car and lived in a small room at an extended stay hotel. He broke up fights, helped any one that asked and was an all around good Samaritan. Victor couldn't explain why he got stronger as he got hit but it worked for him.
He was not a book smart man by any stretch, just a guy that could take a hit and he used what he had well. The thing that he hated was the dreams of having to forcibly separate friends from killing each other. The dreams of kicking what he could only assume was an army of evil soldiers ass though made him happy. He felt a sense of purpose from them but what that purpose was, escaped him. Every night it was the same dream and even with his limited intelligence he knew some thing was coming.
Chang Ming felt the same thing. He dreamt of a dark figure on a horse. The only thing blacker than the horse was the rider. He watched as the dark one reached in to shadows and pulled out whatever weapon he needed while his fists glowed with bright light. Something told him that was rider was a friend but not one that could be trusted despite the common foe.
Strangely he was at peace with the dreams as were his fore fathers who had them. They tried to interpret them but never fully succeeded. The young man was both scholar and warrior. It was hard to tell what he desired more, the pursuit of perfecting all the fighting styles he could find someone to teach him or the desire to learn. If he wasn't in a dojo he was reading or in class. Both were a thirst that could never be satisfied. The only mystery he could never solve was that of the legendary Guthbrander.
It had been an obsession with his family. All they could really find on this figure was that he appeared in the more obscure Norse legends and was said to have a sword even greater than Adonis spear or Thors hammer. It was also said that even gods feared him. Beyond that nothing solid was found besides small stories of encounters with him. Most of those texts and stories were dismissed as made up any way, though something told him it was real even if he couldn't prove it.
Chang was a natural in unarmed combat that surprised every master he trained under. None of then could figure out how he picked up the styles so fast. Things that took a lifetime to master he mastered in months and it was the same with his teachers in intellectual pursuits. He seemed to have a brain that soaked in facts like a sponge that never went dry. He never got enough of either. If only he could unravel the legend of Guthbrander and figure out the dreams hew would be happy. Little did he know that soon he would get at least one of his wishes.
***********************************************************
The bean counters were hitting the point of hysteria as the numbers got even worse. It was time to call in the big favor now. He picked up the phone and it yielded results. Those that would be called were going to be and a sense of relief spread through the room.
**********************************************************
The rider kept up his lonely vigil on Dria until a silent figure came up behind him.
"Is it time yet?" he asked in the bass growl that passed as his voice.
"Soon," the voice of an eight year old boy said as he stepped from the shadows,"Soon it will be done. You will have the chance to redeem yourself and be with her."
"Bout time. What will they know of the first attempt?" He asked without turning around.
The boy stood next to the rider and looked at Dria. "Little but what their dreams have told them. It will come back in time. Let it come on its own. For now watch the siren and keep her safe. The gathering will come soon."
"Good but you know the deal. This is it. When done I get my family back and you leave me alone."
The boy had already vanished but a word on the wind remained.
"Agreed."
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