Post by Deleted on Apr 6, 2013 12:59:37 GMT -6
The darkness that Japan has been through is damn near incomparable to any cataclysmic historical even you could think of. They’ve been bullied, prosecuted, and discriminated against by every conceivable power imaginable. They were shunned by the European powers and when they struck back in the aims of self-defense and for the glory of prestige, they still weren’t seen as equals with the rest of the powers. Soon, after they finally lose one damn war…they’re persecuted worse than any other country in American history.
In the history of it all, the Japanese people couldn’t have suffered any worse. At least you knew Hitler and Stalin were going to kill you off on a specific date if you were there. Japan didn’t know whether it was the bomb, a US solider invasion, maybe the Chinese, or as it turned out to be…nuclear fucking radiation. Even in the times where they were isolationists…they were governed through the iron fist known as fear.
Yet the people continue to enable themselves to be put in these uncompromising situations.
The psyche of human nature loves the illusions of fake grandeur because they’re easier to achieve than actual accomplishments. It’s what boosts their ego when they, like America, make the false assertion that they’re the greatest nation in the world. These false assertions then turn these bullied members into the worst brand of enablers since the extremes of Christianity calling anyone with any slight different view a heretic.
Those type of peering eyes with that specific type of label feels familiar, doesn’t it Cera?
The sad part is…they enabled you to become such a demon and for you to be one with it. It made you become one with all the heinous things and while you can say you embraced that life…it’s a crock of bullshit. You become excommunicated and crusaded against while the holy sister is being favored toward and through that…they enable her to become a seed of the demon. Then the enablers have the audacity to try to save her when she’s already a foregone conclusion.
Hell, not even Buddha would be able to reincarnate her.
She’s as scarred as anyone in Japanese history and yet her little assistant has dug into the archives a bit and found some information that I’d rather be kept confidential. Telling me my birth name is like reminding the Japanese of the scars of the atomic bomb and all of its side effects. It’s something you’d want to address once and then leave behind for all eternity. The one good thing about this mask though…is it can hide specific triggers and effects but it doesn’t change the fact that now its public knowledge thanks to one Jap’s blabber mouth.
Well, I guess even this ‘game’ has some twists even I couldn’t foresee.
It doesn’t matter though in my mind what kind of ‘game’ Jennifer and Cera dust off and throw toward me. It isn’t anything compared to the bullets of Vegas or the heaps of abuse enablers and my parents alike have thrown toward me. She’s wrote scars on Slater, herself, and her sister Reya…but I doubt she can put a scar over my own body in the way she’d like. It eats her up more than she’d like to admit just like Jennifer calling me by name eats me up.
Oh and maybe the traumatic effect of a certain death…is affecting her too much.
She’ll carry that with her to the grave and while she slanders my name as an agent of darkness…she isn’t the demon she claims to be as long as she has those severed ties to that name. She’s not worse than Hitler…or Stalin or the American government because she has that one shred of humanity left in her whether she wants to admit it or not. I see it in her eyes every time she speaks. Even if I don’t like to admit the price for this nifty little ability to see a person at their core through their eyes…it’s worth it.
Cera...prepare for a miserable ass kicking in the heart of Tokyo, Japan courtesy of the Modern Day Martyr of professional wrestling.
Tokyo, Japan is one of the busiest cities in the world. The city is bustled with activity and the streets are ridiculously overcrowded. The smell from one of the ramen shops near here makes anyone’s stomach roar, the damn traffic is bumper to bumper on the road, and the god damned wind is hellacious this afternoon. I’m just nudging through on the street with Moretti next to me at the moment, just trying to get to wherever the fuck this place my associate says is at even if I know this place very well. He would just rather keep things as a surprise.
“You won’t regret it,” Moretti muses.
“This better be good…” I growl lowly.
The one good thing about Japan that I always enjoyed is that when I’m out in the streets no matter what I’m wearing…I don’t even get a second look. I’m wearing a pair of sunglasses to hide my eyes, my hair tied back, and a black and blue business suit. I know I have that luxury but I’d rather be in seclusion even in plain sight like this. The thought of Jennifer still spilling my own name makes me visibly shutter and wince.
“God damn her.” I growl while bawling my hand into a fist tightly, “Where the hell did she get that damned information?”
“This way,” Moretti commands, ignoring my ramblings.
“Yes senator jerkoff,” I roll my eyes.
“You’re so testy today…” Moretti barks, “Regardless, I have a surprise for you to keep your head on straight for the match, big man. Trust me.”
Vincent and I pause at a particular building as a few Japanese folks walk around us. The Americanized minded ones glance at us with some dirty looks but the majority just pass through without having to care. Moretti straightens his tie and points to the door of this underground club of sorts. Compared to most of the buildings we’ve been in at the states, it’s extremely well maintained. Even though I’ve spent years in Japan, I never picked up the language but the two of us just shrug at one another.
“It can’t be worse than seeing you in a pink dress,” Moretti snickers in a juvenile manner
“It’s all about what anyone’s willing to do…and he’ll have his especially if he tries it again because this old memory bank keeps things filed away. You know that.” I reply with a tense glare, “Now let’s hurry up and go in because we don’t have all damn day.”
The two of us open the door and walk into the building. The place looks like a giant…convention of sorts. A ton of them are wearing a specific black uniform with a bow tie or a feminine undershirt depending on your gender or preference. The erratic and eccentric colors of their hair range from a horribly dyed blue on some of the males to a more visually appealing teal on the females. The building is also decorated in the cartoon version of what these characters are supposed to represent.
“What the fuck…is this?” I lowly grumble out, almost speechless for once.
“Haven’t you ever been in a convention before in this country?” Moretti raises his eyebrow.
“Does Cera bathe in holy water?” I retort in irritation.
Moretti lets out a shrill laugh as the people in the convention soon begin to give us looks that vary from dirty to amused. For some reason, my glare is fixated on the man with blue hair. The bowtie he has on his ridiculous bowtie and a white undershirt underneath that almost looks like a school uniform. A nervous sweat drop goes down his brow but he puts on a courteous smile for us to try to dismiss the tension.
“Welcome,” the man greets us in accented English.
“Well I’ll be damned…” I smirk, a little surprised, “Anyone else speak English here?”
“Everyone speaks both Japanese and English. Not perfect, but yes,” he replies.
I peel off my sunglasses and stuff them in my pocket to peer the scenery a little better. There’s a table in the center with silver guns with ‘SEES’ written on the gun, a couple of katanas are hanged up over the white walls with a deadly gleam that would be the bane of many people. If only I could grab that and slice Jen’s head off for spouting off my god damned name and then slice the demon out of Cera in the bloodiest exorcism this side of the Pacific.
Moretti and I shrug before walking deeper into the building and into the next room. The second room is just illuminated by an eerie green light without any windows to help with that cause. A couple of boxing gloves are hung up there and there’s a man with silver hair with a red vest over a white shirt and a bowtie. The kid got a lean muscular build and some stubble chin hair while he’s slurping down some ramen noodles with some chopsticks. He glances toward us and acknowledges us with a quick nod.
“Yo.” he greets us, “Welcome to the Persona convention.”
I glare coldly at Moretti before shaking my head in disgust toward him. He just has that casual kind of smirk on his face like he’s having the time of his life here. In complete contrast, I’m just shaking my head in disgust. The boy studies my scarred face for a minute before his face darkens noticeably. I just pierce right through his blue eyes with my own glare as I’ve done many times before. The peering glare causes him to break eye contact though he’s doing what he can to hide all the emotions he can.
“You’re…Sebastian aren’t you?” he mumbles.
“You peaked…” I growl while glaring right at him while reaching into my pocket.
Moretti shakes his head and I feel him tug my hair as a gesture to get me to back down before I create a prewar scene as a warm up for my match against Cera. Soon enough, I hear a loud blaring of music coming from another room that rings my eardrums. Out of curiosity, I start walking toward it and Moretti naturally follows. We slowly open the door and then end up walking into the darkness of the next room.
“What the hell?” I growl.
In front of me is the shock of an entire group of fans with blue and green glow sticks clapping to the beat of the band in front. From what I’m aware, the band is dressed similarly to the guys we’ve seen earlier with the suits and there’s even a blue teddy bear costume there. I scowl lowly at this visual as the beat grows louder and the clapping with the sticks creates an intoxicating visual effect. I lower my jaw and wonder what the hell is going on.
“What in the fucking hell is all of this?” I question.
“One of Japan’s greatest treasures…” Moretti muses.
“I think I’d rather jus---“ I turn my head, “WHAT THE FUCK!?”
The door swings wide open and three Asian men wearing all white uniforms have appeared before us. One of them has a straitjacket in his hands, while a second one possesses a damned taser gun. The third one is just glaring at the two of us menacingly. Moretti shakes his head while I just cross my arms, just agitated by the entire situation. The three guys take a couple steps toward us while I still have my hand in my pocket…waiting for that chance.
“We come for you, Mr. Iser,” the menacing man says in broken English, “We represent the Atlantic Broadband Correctional Institution and we’re here to pick you up.”
That name rings a slight bell in my head. I remember my Mother growling that she’d have me going to that specific institution in my youth before she decided to take too many shots and then take a pistol and splatter her brains out. I doubt they’d harbor grudges that old though considering the laundry list of cases and people that come there…plus why the hell would the Japanese branch come after me to begin with?
“Didn’t your mother ever teach you to knock before barging in?” Moretti snickers.
“You no chastise us…you insane man!” The man with the straight jacket declares.
I feel my temperature rising immediately as soon as those words exit from his lips. The men in white aren’t at all phased by my own aggressive position but Moretti’s look in his eyes is just borderline insane. Finally, I loosen up a little bit realizing I can finally have a little bit of fun for once in this god damned trip. I study them for a brief moment to realize the main talker is the tallest and broadest of the three. The one holding the taser, though, he’s got the least amount of size to him.
“Did Cera or Jennifer send you?” I sternly ask.
“That’s none of your business,” the man with the taser replies swiftly.
I just keep my hand palmed in my jacket pocket…with a little assurance that I always bring with me just in case I ever run into issues in this country. The man with the taser takes one step further but I finally reveal what’s in my jacket and point the barrel of my 12 millimeter gun right at his face. The three men freeze while Moretti lets out that cold laugh that unnerves these Japanese nimrods even more because he knows the inevitability of what’s coming next.
BANG!
The smell of gunpowder consumes the area as I hear loud gasps from the crowd near me. The one man’s hand is bloodied where his weapon of choice was but the taser is completely disintegrated across the hard floor. After that bit of business, I put the gun back away and just glare at the three men in white, infuriated that I haven’t received an answer yet.
“Did Cera or Jennifer send you?” I repeat, more authoritative than angry this time, “Answer my damn question.
“You won’t get an answer out of us. Now subdue them!” The menacing one commands.
The largest guy charges right away toward me and out of self-defense, I sway to the left from his hard right and knock him into next Tuesday with a vicious blow right to the throat. He drops down like a ton of bricks, clutching at his neck before I turn toward the other two men, spitting mad now, as the situation disintegrates even further. A sadistic smile finally peers through on my face while Vincent is starting to tremble slightly from his own inner fury. To make sure he’s out, I deliver a quick kick to the other part of his neck while not taking my eyes off the other two.
“That’s for not knocking and for not being formal. It’s Iser-san and Moretti-san to you,” Vincent chuckles.
“You annihilate people, bludgeon them, and you attend concerts like this one where people dress up worse than you. What the hell is wrong with you?” the smallest one growls.
That series of questions just draws nothing but maniacal laughter from both of us that trail over the loud music playing. Some of the onlookers that were there for the band decide to take evasive action and flee through a different exit. I swiftly eyeball to the left and see on that elevated stage that the band plays that they haven’t noticed us or they don’t give a shit. After my own laughter dies down, I let a smile creep onto my face.
“You’re enabled by someone to do this job yet you’re enabling even worse behavior than my own. Shouldn’t you take that straight jacket and commit yourself instead for your own sins?” I growl.
“Buddha will just reincarnate us for our own behavior in one way or ‘nother,” the man with the straitjacket replies hotly.
“How noble that you’re willing to go down while holding hands by the blinding illusion that is religion…” Moretti muses.
The two remaining men charge at us at full force and I begin hand to hand combat with the guy who was armed with a straight jacket while Moretti starts dissecting the wounded hand of the guy I shot earlier. I immediately sense that boy going after me specifically over extended his charge and I deliver a swift knee blow right to his stomach to slow his assault down immediately. A couple of hard right hands to his cranium make sure he sees stars and then a head-butt to knock him down. I hear the sound of crawling behind me so I take a moment to deliver a leaping stomp to the man trying to sneak up behind me for some revenge. I hear his bones crack on the spot as he fades into unconsciousness and the grin just smiles wider when he’s finally out like a light.
“One down,” I leer.
I see Moretti crackling the short man’s arm back and twisting it like a pretzel so I just return my glacial and laser focus toward the last remaining man standing. He stumbles toward his feet with a blood trickling down his lip and he begins to wildly swing in an act of self-preservation. A pair of the blows connects with my jaw and I begin to taste the blood down my own lips. As soon as that happens, I feel that Apocalyptic smile come across my face that hasn’t been there in a while.
“Wrong move…” I snicker
I finally let loose with a couple blows to his stomach before going upstairs with my good knee to stagger him back before delivering as wicked of a punch as I can throw. He’s sprawled out on the floor out after that blow so I glance at Moretti and he’s on top of his man with a knife toward his throat. Soon enough, he slices it wide open and the blood gushes everywhere. The young man he just slayed just looks toward him with one last bit of penance in his soul toward his killer before flopping down dead. Soon enough, the two of us turn toward the last man with a true pulse.
Vincent grabs the straight jacket and I wrestle the dead weight up to a sitting position to get things ready. A few questions run through my head as Vince puts the arms into place and then tie him up so he’s in a bind. Moretti then pulls out a pair of handcuffs from his own jacket and before I wonder where those damn things have been, he swiftly cuffs his ankles together to make sure there’s absolutely no escape from this situation for him. I decide to wake him up with a couple of insulting backhand slaps.
“WAKE UP!” I command furiously, “I have a question for you…and you DAMN well answer.”
The man is groggy but his eyelids are open and he’s slightly stunned he’s in this predicament. I forcefully drag him to his feet and push him against the concrete wall with considerable force to get the message across. He winces before spitting out some blood down his face. I just let out a scowl as Moretti has that shit eating grin back on his face.
“Did Cera and Jennifer send you here considering what they know?” I leer while raising him up by his throat so his feet are air dancing.
“I…I CAN’T TELL YOU!” he finally shrieks out in fear as the life is being ebbed from him.
I finally hear his neck crack and he passes into a state of unconsciousness before I throw him down in frustration without any answer. Jennifer knows my god damned name and now these fucking people in white want me institutionalized. The paranoia is starting to take over from within as I begin to pace around the floor with these details in mind while Moretti just stands there contemplating the matter further.
“We have many more enemies than that, Seth…” Moretti finally speaks up, “It could be Roger.”
“Roger wouldn’t be this elaborate. This is TOO perfect for him plus with the way he’s been hitting the sauce, he can’t contemplate shit from apple butter,” I grumble.
The music begins to blare louder as the commotion from the crowd has died down with the fighting. I shut my eyes to block the notes out while continuing to pace to let out some of this anxiety and paranoia. How the hell could these people be after me now though after all these years. It isn’t like I’ve been that hard to find despite some of the discrete measures I’ve taken to make sure my activities aren’t monitored so much.
“Well, let’s not worry about this shit now, Seth…” Moretti replies slowly in a calm voice.
After letting those words out, I take a couple deep breaths to cool off from this entire situation. It doesn’t even matter if Cera and Jen have their fingerprints all over this damned situation or not…it’s just more incentive for me to bludgeon them all over the Tokyo Dome without any shred of remorse or compassion. All the better if she brings the damned war hammer…I’ll bring some of my own toys and she’ll never get a chance to use that or possibly institutionalize me.
“You’re right…” I scowl, “Let’s just never go to one of these fucking concert and conventions together ever again.”
I hear Moretti let out a bark of laughter before I turn to head toward the door. I figure he’ll probably stay there for a while but it doesn’t matter...I have a bigger target on me than Hitler did once he anihalated Poland and the Japanese when they decided they needed rubber in the second world war. All I can do now is just think about what I do know in the path ahead of me. The date with Cera is right now in the Tokyo Dome…and while she’ll say she’s aroused by what she does…I’m going to enjoy listening to her scream for mercy.
After her, I’m going to annihilate that drunken hero known as Roger Wright for being put on this god damned pedestal once and for all and if anybody else from the monsters like Pugh or Hazard to these gentlemen in white. I really don’t give a damn. If they play any facet of this game with me whether it’s forcing a man to wear a dress, dragging me through the arena in a power scooter or even send a god damned correctional institution after me…they’ll pay the price for their sins.
They’ll beg for mercy when I have none.
…and then when society leaves them behind as failed heroes that didn’t stop me…they’ll embrace the life and the movement known as UnStable.
In the history of it all, the Japanese people couldn’t have suffered any worse. At least you knew Hitler and Stalin were going to kill you off on a specific date if you were there. Japan didn’t know whether it was the bomb, a US solider invasion, maybe the Chinese, or as it turned out to be…nuclear fucking radiation. Even in the times where they were isolationists…they were governed through the iron fist known as fear.
Yet the people continue to enable themselves to be put in these uncompromising situations.
The psyche of human nature loves the illusions of fake grandeur because they’re easier to achieve than actual accomplishments. It’s what boosts their ego when they, like America, make the false assertion that they’re the greatest nation in the world. These false assertions then turn these bullied members into the worst brand of enablers since the extremes of Christianity calling anyone with any slight different view a heretic.
Those type of peering eyes with that specific type of label feels familiar, doesn’t it Cera?
The sad part is…they enabled you to become such a demon and for you to be one with it. It made you become one with all the heinous things and while you can say you embraced that life…it’s a crock of bullshit. You become excommunicated and crusaded against while the holy sister is being favored toward and through that…they enable her to become a seed of the demon. Then the enablers have the audacity to try to save her when she’s already a foregone conclusion.
Hell, not even Buddha would be able to reincarnate her.
She’s as scarred as anyone in Japanese history and yet her little assistant has dug into the archives a bit and found some information that I’d rather be kept confidential. Telling me my birth name is like reminding the Japanese of the scars of the atomic bomb and all of its side effects. It’s something you’d want to address once and then leave behind for all eternity. The one good thing about this mask though…is it can hide specific triggers and effects but it doesn’t change the fact that now its public knowledge thanks to one Jap’s blabber mouth.
Well, I guess even this ‘game’ has some twists even I couldn’t foresee.
It doesn’t matter though in my mind what kind of ‘game’ Jennifer and Cera dust off and throw toward me. It isn’t anything compared to the bullets of Vegas or the heaps of abuse enablers and my parents alike have thrown toward me. She’s wrote scars on Slater, herself, and her sister Reya…but I doubt she can put a scar over my own body in the way she’d like. It eats her up more than she’d like to admit just like Jennifer calling me by name eats me up.
Oh and maybe the traumatic effect of a certain death…is affecting her too much.
She’ll carry that with her to the grave and while she slanders my name as an agent of darkness…she isn’t the demon she claims to be as long as she has those severed ties to that name. She’s not worse than Hitler…or Stalin or the American government because she has that one shred of humanity left in her whether she wants to admit it or not. I see it in her eyes every time she speaks. Even if I don’t like to admit the price for this nifty little ability to see a person at their core through their eyes…it’s worth it.
Cera...prepare for a miserable ass kicking in the heart of Tokyo, Japan courtesy of the Modern Day Martyr of professional wrestling.
Tokyo, Japan is one of the busiest cities in the world. The city is bustled with activity and the streets are ridiculously overcrowded. The smell from one of the ramen shops near here makes anyone’s stomach roar, the damn traffic is bumper to bumper on the road, and the god damned wind is hellacious this afternoon. I’m just nudging through on the street with Moretti next to me at the moment, just trying to get to wherever the fuck this place my associate says is at even if I know this place very well. He would just rather keep things as a surprise.
“You won’t regret it,” Moretti muses.
“This better be good…” I growl lowly.
The one good thing about Japan that I always enjoyed is that when I’m out in the streets no matter what I’m wearing…I don’t even get a second look. I’m wearing a pair of sunglasses to hide my eyes, my hair tied back, and a black and blue business suit. I know I have that luxury but I’d rather be in seclusion even in plain sight like this. The thought of Jennifer still spilling my own name makes me visibly shutter and wince.
“God damn her.” I growl while bawling my hand into a fist tightly, “Where the hell did she get that damned information?”
“This way,” Moretti commands, ignoring my ramblings.
“Yes senator jerkoff,” I roll my eyes.
“You’re so testy today…” Moretti barks, “Regardless, I have a surprise for you to keep your head on straight for the match, big man. Trust me.”
Vincent and I pause at a particular building as a few Japanese folks walk around us. The Americanized minded ones glance at us with some dirty looks but the majority just pass through without having to care. Moretti straightens his tie and points to the door of this underground club of sorts. Compared to most of the buildings we’ve been in at the states, it’s extremely well maintained. Even though I’ve spent years in Japan, I never picked up the language but the two of us just shrug at one another.
“It can’t be worse than seeing you in a pink dress,” Moretti snickers in a juvenile manner
“It’s all about what anyone’s willing to do…and he’ll have his especially if he tries it again because this old memory bank keeps things filed away. You know that.” I reply with a tense glare, “Now let’s hurry up and go in because we don’t have all damn day.”
The two of us open the door and walk into the building. The place looks like a giant…convention of sorts. A ton of them are wearing a specific black uniform with a bow tie or a feminine undershirt depending on your gender or preference. The erratic and eccentric colors of their hair range from a horribly dyed blue on some of the males to a more visually appealing teal on the females. The building is also decorated in the cartoon version of what these characters are supposed to represent.
“What the fuck…is this?” I lowly grumble out, almost speechless for once.
“Haven’t you ever been in a convention before in this country?” Moretti raises his eyebrow.
“Does Cera bathe in holy water?” I retort in irritation.
Moretti lets out a shrill laugh as the people in the convention soon begin to give us looks that vary from dirty to amused. For some reason, my glare is fixated on the man with blue hair. The bowtie he has on his ridiculous bowtie and a white undershirt underneath that almost looks like a school uniform. A nervous sweat drop goes down his brow but he puts on a courteous smile for us to try to dismiss the tension.
“Welcome,” the man greets us in accented English.
“Well I’ll be damned…” I smirk, a little surprised, “Anyone else speak English here?”
“Everyone speaks both Japanese and English. Not perfect, but yes,” he replies.
I peel off my sunglasses and stuff them in my pocket to peer the scenery a little better. There’s a table in the center with silver guns with ‘SEES’ written on the gun, a couple of katanas are hanged up over the white walls with a deadly gleam that would be the bane of many people. If only I could grab that and slice Jen’s head off for spouting off my god damned name and then slice the demon out of Cera in the bloodiest exorcism this side of the Pacific.
Moretti and I shrug before walking deeper into the building and into the next room. The second room is just illuminated by an eerie green light without any windows to help with that cause. A couple of boxing gloves are hung up there and there’s a man with silver hair with a red vest over a white shirt and a bowtie. The kid got a lean muscular build and some stubble chin hair while he’s slurping down some ramen noodles with some chopsticks. He glances toward us and acknowledges us with a quick nod.
“Yo.” he greets us, “Welcome to the Persona convention.”
I glare coldly at Moretti before shaking my head in disgust toward him. He just has that casual kind of smirk on his face like he’s having the time of his life here. In complete contrast, I’m just shaking my head in disgust. The boy studies my scarred face for a minute before his face darkens noticeably. I just pierce right through his blue eyes with my own glare as I’ve done many times before. The peering glare causes him to break eye contact though he’s doing what he can to hide all the emotions he can.
“You’re…Sebastian aren’t you?” he mumbles.
“You peaked…” I growl while glaring right at him while reaching into my pocket.
Moretti shakes his head and I feel him tug my hair as a gesture to get me to back down before I create a prewar scene as a warm up for my match against Cera. Soon enough, I hear a loud blaring of music coming from another room that rings my eardrums. Out of curiosity, I start walking toward it and Moretti naturally follows. We slowly open the door and then end up walking into the darkness of the next room.
“What the hell?” I growl.
In front of me is the shock of an entire group of fans with blue and green glow sticks clapping to the beat of the band in front. From what I’m aware, the band is dressed similarly to the guys we’ve seen earlier with the suits and there’s even a blue teddy bear costume there. I scowl lowly at this visual as the beat grows louder and the clapping with the sticks creates an intoxicating visual effect. I lower my jaw and wonder what the hell is going on.
“What in the fucking hell is all of this?” I question.
“One of Japan’s greatest treasures…” Moretti muses.
“I think I’d rather jus---“ I turn my head, “WHAT THE FUCK!?”
The door swings wide open and three Asian men wearing all white uniforms have appeared before us. One of them has a straitjacket in his hands, while a second one possesses a damned taser gun. The third one is just glaring at the two of us menacingly. Moretti shakes his head while I just cross my arms, just agitated by the entire situation. The three guys take a couple steps toward us while I still have my hand in my pocket…waiting for that chance.
“We come for you, Mr. Iser,” the menacing man says in broken English, “We represent the Atlantic Broadband Correctional Institution and we’re here to pick you up.”
That name rings a slight bell in my head. I remember my Mother growling that she’d have me going to that specific institution in my youth before she decided to take too many shots and then take a pistol and splatter her brains out. I doubt they’d harbor grudges that old though considering the laundry list of cases and people that come there…plus why the hell would the Japanese branch come after me to begin with?
“Didn’t your mother ever teach you to knock before barging in?” Moretti snickers.
“You no chastise us…you insane man!” The man with the straight jacket declares.
I feel my temperature rising immediately as soon as those words exit from his lips. The men in white aren’t at all phased by my own aggressive position but Moretti’s look in his eyes is just borderline insane. Finally, I loosen up a little bit realizing I can finally have a little bit of fun for once in this god damned trip. I study them for a brief moment to realize the main talker is the tallest and broadest of the three. The one holding the taser, though, he’s got the least amount of size to him.
“Did Cera or Jennifer send you?” I sternly ask.
“That’s none of your business,” the man with the taser replies swiftly.
I just keep my hand palmed in my jacket pocket…with a little assurance that I always bring with me just in case I ever run into issues in this country. The man with the taser takes one step further but I finally reveal what’s in my jacket and point the barrel of my 12 millimeter gun right at his face. The three men freeze while Moretti lets out that cold laugh that unnerves these Japanese nimrods even more because he knows the inevitability of what’s coming next.
BANG!
The smell of gunpowder consumes the area as I hear loud gasps from the crowd near me. The one man’s hand is bloodied where his weapon of choice was but the taser is completely disintegrated across the hard floor. After that bit of business, I put the gun back away and just glare at the three men in white, infuriated that I haven’t received an answer yet.
“Did Cera or Jennifer send you?” I repeat, more authoritative than angry this time, “Answer my damn question.
“You won’t get an answer out of us. Now subdue them!” The menacing one commands.
The largest guy charges right away toward me and out of self-defense, I sway to the left from his hard right and knock him into next Tuesday with a vicious blow right to the throat. He drops down like a ton of bricks, clutching at his neck before I turn toward the other two men, spitting mad now, as the situation disintegrates even further. A sadistic smile finally peers through on my face while Vincent is starting to tremble slightly from his own inner fury. To make sure he’s out, I deliver a quick kick to the other part of his neck while not taking my eyes off the other two.
“That’s for not knocking and for not being formal. It’s Iser-san and Moretti-san to you,” Vincent chuckles.
“You annihilate people, bludgeon them, and you attend concerts like this one where people dress up worse than you. What the hell is wrong with you?” the smallest one growls.
That series of questions just draws nothing but maniacal laughter from both of us that trail over the loud music playing. Some of the onlookers that were there for the band decide to take evasive action and flee through a different exit. I swiftly eyeball to the left and see on that elevated stage that the band plays that they haven’t noticed us or they don’t give a shit. After my own laughter dies down, I let a smile creep onto my face.
“You’re enabled by someone to do this job yet you’re enabling even worse behavior than my own. Shouldn’t you take that straight jacket and commit yourself instead for your own sins?” I growl.
“Buddha will just reincarnate us for our own behavior in one way or ‘nother,” the man with the straitjacket replies hotly.
“How noble that you’re willing to go down while holding hands by the blinding illusion that is religion…” Moretti muses.
The two remaining men charge at us at full force and I begin hand to hand combat with the guy who was armed with a straight jacket while Moretti starts dissecting the wounded hand of the guy I shot earlier. I immediately sense that boy going after me specifically over extended his charge and I deliver a swift knee blow right to his stomach to slow his assault down immediately. A couple of hard right hands to his cranium make sure he sees stars and then a head-butt to knock him down. I hear the sound of crawling behind me so I take a moment to deliver a leaping stomp to the man trying to sneak up behind me for some revenge. I hear his bones crack on the spot as he fades into unconsciousness and the grin just smiles wider when he’s finally out like a light.
“One down,” I leer.
I see Moretti crackling the short man’s arm back and twisting it like a pretzel so I just return my glacial and laser focus toward the last remaining man standing. He stumbles toward his feet with a blood trickling down his lip and he begins to wildly swing in an act of self-preservation. A pair of the blows connects with my jaw and I begin to taste the blood down my own lips. As soon as that happens, I feel that Apocalyptic smile come across my face that hasn’t been there in a while.
“Wrong move…” I snicker
I finally let loose with a couple blows to his stomach before going upstairs with my good knee to stagger him back before delivering as wicked of a punch as I can throw. He’s sprawled out on the floor out after that blow so I glance at Moretti and he’s on top of his man with a knife toward his throat. Soon enough, he slices it wide open and the blood gushes everywhere. The young man he just slayed just looks toward him with one last bit of penance in his soul toward his killer before flopping down dead. Soon enough, the two of us turn toward the last man with a true pulse.
Vincent grabs the straight jacket and I wrestle the dead weight up to a sitting position to get things ready. A few questions run through my head as Vince puts the arms into place and then tie him up so he’s in a bind. Moretti then pulls out a pair of handcuffs from his own jacket and before I wonder where those damn things have been, he swiftly cuffs his ankles together to make sure there’s absolutely no escape from this situation for him. I decide to wake him up with a couple of insulting backhand slaps.
“WAKE UP!” I command furiously, “I have a question for you…and you DAMN well answer.”
The man is groggy but his eyelids are open and he’s slightly stunned he’s in this predicament. I forcefully drag him to his feet and push him against the concrete wall with considerable force to get the message across. He winces before spitting out some blood down his face. I just let out a scowl as Moretti has that shit eating grin back on his face.
“Did Cera and Jennifer send you here considering what they know?” I leer while raising him up by his throat so his feet are air dancing.
“I…I CAN’T TELL YOU!” he finally shrieks out in fear as the life is being ebbed from him.
I finally hear his neck crack and he passes into a state of unconsciousness before I throw him down in frustration without any answer. Jennifer knows my god damned name and now these fucking people in white want me institutionalized. The paranoia is starting to take over from within as I begin to pace around the floor with these details in mind while Moretti just stands there contemplating the matter further.
“We have many more enemies than that, Seth…” Moretti finally speaks up, “It could be Roger.”
“Roger wouldn’t be this elaborate. This is TOO perfect for him plus with the way he’s been hitting the sauce, he can’t contemplate shit from apple butter,” I grumble.
The music begins to blare louder as the commotion from the crowd has died down with the fighting. I shut my eyes to block the notes out while continuing to pace to let out some of this anxiety and paranoia. How the hell could these people be after me now though after all these years. It isn’t like I’ve been that hard to find despite some of the discrete measures I’ve taken to make sure my activities aren’t monitored so much.
“Well, let’s not worry about this shit now, Seth…” Moretti replies slowly in a calm voice.
After letting those words out, I take a couple deep breaths to cool off from this entire situation. It doesn’t even matter if Cera and Jen have their fingerprints all over this damned situation or not…it’s just more incentive for me to bludgeon them all over the Tokyo Dome without any shred of remorse or compassion. All the better if she brings the damned war hammer…I’ll bring some of my own toys and she’ll never get a chance to use that or possibly institutionalize me.
“You’re right…” I scowl, “Let’s just never go to one of these fucking concert and conventions together ever again.”
I hear Moretti let out a bark of laughter before I turn to head toward the door. I figure he’ll probably stay there for a while but it doesn’t matter...I have a bigger target on me than Hitler did once he anihalated Poland and the Japanese when they decided they needed rubber in the second world war. All I can do now is just think about what I do know in the path ahead of me. The date with Cera is right now in the Tokyo Dome…and while she’ll say she’s aroused by what she does…I’m going to enjoy listening to her scream for mercy.
After her, I’m going to annihilate that drunken hero known as Roger Wright for being put on this god damned pedestal once and for all and if anybody else from the monsters like Pugh or Hazard to these gentlemen in white. I really don’t give a damn. If they play any facet of this game with me whether it’s forcing a man to wear a dress, dragging me through the arena in a power scooter or even send a god damned correctional institution after me…they’ll pay the price for their sins.
They’ll beg for mercy when I have none.
…and then when society leaves them behind as failed heroes that didn’t stop me…they’ll embrace the life and the movement known as UnStable.