| Twenty-one hours before WarGames weekend |
Curious.
Ned and his lady… Walking into The Mecha Museum.
…Isaiah had made a habit of tailing Ned, every which way he went.
The master hunter stalks his prey at every turn.
Comes to understand his prey. The way he moves.
The way he thinks.
Even down to the way he breathes…
Isaiah tailed from a safe distance… So as not to alert his quarry…
…Ned and… Darcy, Isaiah believed her name was… Walked through the museum, glancing at the exhibits… The gargantuan model robots of days past. Kaye tugged uncomfortably at his suit. It didn’t take a hunter of King’s caliber to note that Kaye hated anything that wasn’t his combat attire.
Kaye was a warrior, first and foremost. He looked as uncomfortable in a suit-and-tie as a bear might in a pair of blue jeans…
…Still, despite his discomfort. Or, rather, maybe because his discomfort provided a distraction… King felt he was watching a truer, more real Ned.
…It was a fascinating exercise. There was a false Ned. One making casual in-jokes, putting his love at-ease…
But, every once in a while, *he* would come out.
The real Ned.
The one that beat King.
Scanning the placards of each robot.
In seconds, Kaye would skim documentation manuals… Examine schematics… He’d walk past a robot and visually would walk himself through entry and control procedures…
Then, realize Darcy was looking and ask her a question that she could look up on the placard… That it might seemed he was casually perusing. Capable of fun.
Kaye had beaten King once. It was humbling.
As a hunter, a pursuer… King enjoyed a sensation of control. Of power.
But, two sensations shake a hunter’s vision.
The prey becoming predator… As was the case with Mister Kaye…
And losing track of one’s quarry.
King had chased every lead he had for this… Kurrashu. Through Japanese’s insidious underbelly… Across various criminal channels. King had just about turned over rock and busted every skull that he thought would reveal Chae’s whereabouts…
Whoever has her? Is clearly leading King. Manipulating him.
Like a lamb being led to the slaughter.
…Speak of the devil, that moment, King’s phone buzzed.
“Kurasshu. Tokyo National Bank. One hour. Be there. Obey or your friend dies.”
…
King takes one more look toward Kaye…
Ned’s peering at his own phone… Disappointed. He explains something to his love… She doesn’t like it. He takes her by the hand.
…Then, leaves.
…Funny.
Isaiah cuts toward the exit, unseen.
***
Ezekiel had pulled the limo around in record time.
Isaiah quickly communicated their location.
The two drove in silence through Tokyo traffic. In the backseat, Isaiah sips at a water bottle.
…The hunt had worn both of their patience down to their very limits.
“...What’s the plan, man?” Ezekiel breaks the silence.
…Isaiah stares out the window in silence, taking another sip of water.
Ezekiel mean-mugs the steering wheel.
“The yakuza tell you to be at this bank… With no other directions?” Ezekiel shook his head. “I don’t like it. Don’t like it one bit.”
…
“It’s a trap. Or a set-up. Or another step on a wild goose chase, being given useless bits of information that don’t get us ONE step closer to finding Chae…”
…
“Correct.”
Ezekiel looks back at Isaiah. Almost as if the silence had gone on so long, he had forgotten King could speak.
…
“So… You got a plan?”
Isaiah leans forward from the limo’s backseat.
“The yakuza aim to infuriate us. That we might blindly strike out. Make a mistake… They are content to hide in their holes…”
Isaiah runs his hand over his face, frustrated at the cowardly tactics of his prey…
“Okay.” Ezekiel emits, frustrated. “They’re hiding. So, we bust more skulls until they crawl out to sunlight?”
“Only a foolish hunter strikes out of impatience.” Isaiah bites “The yakuza will willingly sacrifice many of its pawns to further drive us toward our end.”
…
“But, if we follow their direction. If we take their orders… If we play the part of the tamed animal… Our foes may exit their holes… Confident in their strength.”
“Upon which…?”
KERUNCH! King crushes the bottle.
“We strike.”
***
Twenty hours before WarGames weekend
Across the street from the Tokyo National Bank |
Ezekiel pulls the limo on the other side of the street.
“What now?” Ezekiel glances backwards.
Like clockwork, Isaiah’s phone chirps again.
“Leave your driver. Enter through bank’s rear. Obey or your friend dies.”
“Wait for my knock… Then, head north three blocks.” Isaiah nods toward Ezekiel. “Watch your phone closely.”
Ezekiel nods back. Isaiah exits out the limo…
He heads for the trunk… Pops it open.
And retrieves an alumnium baseball bat.
King closes the trunk. And knocks on the rear-hood.
Without a moment’s delay, Ezekiel pulls away.
…King stalks around the side of the bank.
He hadn’t made a final decision yet. But, he was certain he hated Japan.
It was not his environment to thrive in.
When he walked by, the locals naturally stared.
Was it because he towered over the average resident?
Was it because he didn’t look like them?
Was it because he was walking down the street with a baseball bat in his right hand?
…Who could say?
He felt out of place. Constantly seen. Making an effective hunt impossible.
…If he wanted to take the upper-hand, he’d have to learn how to hide here…
…But how?
…Making his way through the crowded streets of Tokyo, he finally arrived at the rear of the bank…
He’d found a door.
Naturally, he tested the knob.
…
Locked.
His pocket chirped once more.
“Remain there. Await further instruction. Obey or your friend dies.”
…Typically, repetition is designed to assuage fear. Clearly, this one is designed to keep a fact at the forefront of King’s mind.
Obey or Chae dies.
…In the distance, from this viewpoint, King can see… a large mecha in the parking lot… Quite similar to the ones he had observed Kaye observed at the museum.
“KING?!?”
Isaiah spun around!
And who did he discover? But an angry gremlin man…
Holding a wrench.
Mark Flynn.
“What are YOU at a bank for? Opening a high-interest savings account?”
…Flynn glanced down at the bat in King’s hand.
“By any means necessary?”
***
Snap! Like one might pluck an apple from its tree, King effortlessly snatched Flynn’s binoculars from his hands…
King raised the binoculars to his eyes…
He could see three teenagers… No, wait. Two teenagers and older-looking biker man.
The girl of the trio was… texting.
Isaiah tightened the view on the binoculars… Perhaps, he could make out her texting…
“What are *you* doing here, Flynn? And how does it involve… those three…” King said, trying to distract Flynn from taking his binoculars ba-
SWACK! Flynn snaps the binos out of King’s grip.
…Drat. Unfortunately, King’s usual tactics involving an amount of etiquette and class had no effect on this cretinous egomanic.
“Nederick and I are on a top-secret HERO mission. HEROES ONLY.” Flynn winks at King. “See? *I* can be mysterious, too! In fact, I’m the BEST at being mysterious.”
“Ah.” King says, itching his nose, disinterestedly. “And I suppose you and Ned, in your… *heroic* efforts, are collaborating with those stalwart adolescents?” As he speaks, he looks down toward his pocket… Which buzzes.
“Awaiting confirmation. Remain in place. Obey or your friend dies.”
***
Flynn then spent minutes insisting that those teens in the parking lot were, in fact, secretly insidious.
“They’re not REAL HEROES. They’re like Kido! Or Bourbon! Or THEO PRYCE! They’re assholes-in-hero-costumes! Just as selfish and boo-able as I am.”
…
“Er, as I WAS! They’re more selfish now! Now that I’m a GOOD GUY!”
“...Hmmm.” King said, realizing that not giving Mark immediate approval on his conspiracy theories was like pouring salt into an open wound for the goblin man.
Flynn irritatedly grunts, shoving the binoculars up to Isaiah. “Look for yourself! USE YOUR EYES! ANYONE WITH A SPARE BRAINCELL CAN SEE THERE’S SOMETHING OFF ABOUT THOSE INTEGRI-TEENS!”
Finally, the binoculars… King lifts them back to his eyes…
Again, the lass is rapidly texting… Behind her, her two cohorts casually stare straight ahead.
Not day-dreaming. Not disinterested… but laser-focused.
…There’s something off about them.
“My-my. Truly despicable, Flynn.”
King proceeds to bat away several of Flynn’s conspiracy theories… Using information he’d picked up at the Mecha Museum…
…Flynn scratches his head, clearly ill-prepared for an encounter of someone with actual intellect. “...Okay… Fair answers. But, WHY are they called the Integri-TEENS… when Oliver Main is like 28 YEARS OLD?!?!”
…
Isaiah scratches his chin. “Okay, that is peculiar.”
…Isaiah takes one last look through the scopes…
The lass just finished texting.
…
Chirp. King’s phone chirps.
…He glances down.
“Standby. Obey or your friend dies.”
His eyes widen.
There they are.
After weeks of hunting…
The hunter finally has his prey in his sights.
…It took every bit of will power not to strike now…
He reminded himself… A terrible hunter strikes the first instant his prey steps into view.
A skilled marksman does not hit difficult shots.
…Instead, he allows his prey to advance ever further out of his hiding place…
Convinced of its own safety…
Until it’s far too late for the impudent beast to retreat…
King stares at the teenagers…
Finally.
He knows his quarry.
***
After briefly teaching Flynn, a so-called hunter about snakes and idioms… Once more, King’s phone chirps.
“Enter the bank. Obey, or your friend dies.”
Flynn was in the middle of, perhaps, actually learning something. Thus, King disappeared inside the rear of the bank….
He found himself in a thin hallway…
Likely, where the bank conducted its internal affairs… Rooms filled with computers… Ringing cell phones…
A lifetime of wage slavery and hopeless that King the hunter considered himself above.
Suddenly, stepping into the hallway…
King was faced with three men-in-suits wielding katanas…
They raised their blades toward him.
…King smiled.
“Three swords against one bat…?” King points his weapon menacingly at his foes. “An unfair fight… for you.”
…
Suddenly, the three sheathe their blades.
“Kurasshu.”
…King’s eyes widen.
“What did you say?”
“KURASSHU!”
…
From the three part ways… a mysterious… samurai luchador steps forth. His face masked, a blade at his waist.
“Intriguing.”
…Isaiah sinks his stance low, prepared to strike. To end this fight quickly.
…
When the swordsman reaches his hand upwards…
And removes his mask.
…Crash Rodriguez.
…
“Ah.” Isaiah mutters in a moment of realization. “Kurasshu…” King shakes his head. “You were under my nose the whole time.”
[yellow]“KURASSHU! KILL!” The yakuza barks from behind.
….Crash looks at King… King eyes Crash.
The two dip into combat stances.
…
Facing away from the yakuza…
Crash winks.
…
The two charge…
The hallway too thin to do anything but storm directly ahead…
Isaiah reels back his bat…
As Crash…
Bends at the knee!
King leaps up and onto Rodriguez’s shoulders.
Rodriguez twists himself backwards! Launching King towards the yakuza behind him!
KING SWINGS!
***
Moments Later, King and Rodriguez are dragging three, battered-unconcious yakuza into a janitor’s closet.
King is the first to break the silence between the two.
“I take it they have something… precious to you?”
Rodriguez shakes his head somberly.
"They threatened my son. Told me I had a job to do. To obey or he’d be killed.”
…
“Sounds… quite familiar.”
“You?”
“I was told to find you. And that doing so would free my… friend.”
“I was told to kill you on sight.”
“Well, then, their instructions were a lie.”
…
“Thank you for not trying to do so.”
Crash chuckled. “Would’ve made WarGames a lot tougher… Both being one man down and explaining to the other two I’d killed our fourth.”
“...For the same reason, *I* refrained from killing you.” King chuckled.
…Suddenly, a commotion from the bank’s lobby!
Chaos! People marching! Gunfire! A grenade!
…
Crash and Isaiah eye each other.
“This must be their plan. Introduce chaos. Exploit the confusion. Make off with uncountable riches.”
“...Adds up.” Crash nods.
…
“How do we feel about that?”
“I feel the hunter…”
[…King lifts his bat.
“Is finally ready to strike.”
***
The worst enemies make the best friends - once you figure out how to keep them all from murdering each other.
Once you figure out what motivates them all, and use it to find a mutually beneficial cause… you've got a team unstoppable.
A team that THINKS about how best to murder each other enough to cover each others blind spots, and allowing us to go in for the kill.
Crash.
Kurasshu.
A man we know little about, who has come to our shores to establish a NEW name for himself amongst a calibre of talent higher than he's ever faced before.
Facing FRIENDS hes grown to trust, friends you'd expect him to never turn on. FRIENDS you'd expect him to protect with all his maniacal heart. FRIENDS you'd expect him to die for.
Yet now he's been given the opportunity to truly CRUSH his opponents. Friends and foe. WARGAMES the most incredible debut opportunity of them all, the opportunity to prove himself against enemies, the opportunity to prove himself BETTER than even the closest friends.
And oh how talented his friends are. The Bastards have all claimed gold, glory and hon- Okay maybe not that one - of their own right here.
Imagine walking into your friends home, invited in to share in the glory… Only to claim it all for himself.
They might think they're doing a friend a favour by calling him over… But all they've done is given a monster the opportunity to claim his chunk of the pie.
And if Crash is anything like he's been the last few months, it'll be a helluva chunk of pie. Bobby, Dolly, Thunder - by not claiming your boy in the first OR second round, you've created this MONSTER by forcing him into a corner.
He either has to be a scheming lil bitch and betray us - which will only establish him to be a weak, backless addition to your gang.
Which honestly… can you see him doing?
Or he has to grab each of you by the throat and leave you within an inch of death - to establish a new threat in the XWF, one more powerful than we've ever seen.
He's got himself a backbone, he's motivated by GLORY. He's motivated by WAR. He's motivated to be a G00DB0I.
The Bastards, as spread out as they are… won't implode. Their friendships WONT come to an end.
But come Wargames, with me breathing down his neck and egging him on to give into his bloodlust and thirst for GLORY…
The Bastards will most certainly be completely NEUTRALIZED by their FRIEND.
DECIMATED by their FRIEND.
EXPLOITED by their FRIEND.
Honestly - which do you think this FRIEND will choose?
And then you've got the Maverick…
Isaiah King looks up at this colossal metal beast.
It was almost adorable, he feels like he can even make out a jawline, a lolling tongue if he squints hard enough.
It looked devastating, devastating and kinda adorable.
It looked like it'd serve them well - but destroy them if they botched this.
And with Flynn being their only controller…
"Gotta risk it for the dog biscuit."
Isaiah hated himself for the thought, it felt so… Uncouth. He really needed to stop hanging out with these guys.
Mark Flynn himself.
The XTREME champion.
Searching deep within his black, murky heart for redemption.
We can ALL say Mark Flynn will always do what's best for Mark Flynn.
Nothings ever stopped him from doing that - nothing but a few chaotic, distraction-fueled weeks of being chased by Bobby Bourbon sure… but every dumbass golden retriever gets distracted every once in a while.
But unlike Bobby the thirst for GLORY is unparalleled - maybe other than by me - in this man. Immediately picked himself back up, IMMEDIATELY chucked everyone else aside and IMMEDIATELY found gold back in his hands.
Mark FLYNN is so naturally single-minded that even as he walks through the valleys of chaos and confusion - he somehow comes out stronger and better than ever, even if he doesn't seem like it.
Even if there's 6 inches of some alien tech or something or rather in his skull.
STRONGER. MORE DESTRUCTIVE.
Because Flynn gravitates to wherever he can HEAR them scream his name.
He answers the call.
Whether they're cheering or, more often than not, booing…
He goes.
Just like a G00DB0I should.
The adulation AND hatred of the crowd is a sign of craft mastery - and if anyone on this team has MASTERED the craft… Its most definitely Mark Flynn.
How many names on this list has he disposed of already?
How many have tried to pry glory from him only to have it slip away from him?
Yes, Bourbon still stands but that man's team is imploding so quickly I'm not sure they'd have any of their original members by the time we get to Saturday - no, we'll be getting the GOLD.
And it is you that'll be begging us for mercy.
Ned Kaye.
In the past, King had considered Kaye an adversary beneath him.
He seemed soft.
Vulnerable.
Weak.
…
But this weakness was a disguise. A ruse. A trick of sorts.
Beneath Kaye’s benevolent exterior was a deadly hunter.
In Kaye, King had found a kindred spirit.
A fellow warrior.
Someone he was willing to follow.
Both in observation.
And into battle.
To the ends of the Earth.
…
I entered the XWF, prepared to eviscerate every opponent he’d be placed across in the ring.
But, I hadn’t been prepared for four allies.
Four I'd see the strength of.
That I'd grown to admire.
That I would fight for.
That I would die for.
…
At WarGames.
This Sunday.
G00D-B01. Will HUNT.
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