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Description
Vendetta
00 Nobody

My sound we come to take over
MC you better look over your shoulder
Yeah you know we on and on
Ah-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na!
Nobody gets out of dis ya pit alive
Nobody, nobody gets out alive!

    The stereo was blazing at full volume, mixing with the roar of the Harley, which was soaring across the desert floor with such speed that it almost seemed to glide, its     wheels barely touching the perfectly flat surface of the rapidly cooling ground. The sun had just set behind the dark rider and the sky to which he was headed was pitch black, stars in the form of small, shining dots thrown about in the darkness.
    Like a foreboding omen, the gigantic formation known as the city Yggdrasill loomed closer and closer by the second, its upper two plates casting an inescapable shadow on the bottom floor, though it mattered little at night. The immense metallic structure, composed of the giant pillar called the World Tree and three levels, each the size of a modern day metropolis was truly a sight to behold. It was a marvel of technology, even at this day and time, but the man, dressed entirely in black, wasn’t here for sightseeing.
    Strangely, no roads led to this city, showing its independence from the rest of the world. It would not be approached, it would only approach on its own. And yet there he was, a lone man, approaching it without a fear, letting everyone know he was coming.
    After passing the 1 km perimeter of the city, a bright spotlight hit his vehicle, the sudden beam of light cutting through the darkness and zoning in at him instantly and impeccably. The white light danced off the metallic black of his motorcycle, disappeared into the eerily black of his clothing, not quite discernable at this distance and reflecting off the fluorescent drawings on the outer lines of his clothes.

--

    “Excuse me, Lance, sir! Look, someone on a chopper is nearing Hel. Should we let him in?” the young worker asked his more experienced superior. The pudgy man grudgingly threw a quick glance at his monitor with his beady eyes, where the lone intruder was displayed as soon as the close-range motion sensors noticed his presence, took a lustful bite out of a ham-and-cheese sandwich, tossed the sandwitch back onto its plastic plate and sat back in his chair, sighing. Why was he always bothered with elementary stuff like this? He had more important matters at hand.
    “It’s probably just another punk, running to Yggdrasill for protection from some of the outer gangs. Just send Erik and his guys down there to greet him and tell him how things are done here. The Serpents’ll know what to do with ‘im,” he explained in his distinct western accent, turning his attention back to the porn mag in his stubby fingers, a perverted smile reappearing on his face.
    “Yes, sir,” Mark replied and left his seat, making his way through the ever-present smell of cigarettes and pizza in the dark control room of Sector 07, heading for a brightly lit exit sign, hanging just a bit out of reach for the new worker. He almost tripped on his way out, stumbling uncomfortably into the stairs opposite his exit, though he could swear someone tripped him on purpose.
    “What’s wrong? Your legs given out already?” someone above him snickered. “You got something for me? I heard chubby in there say my name.” It was Erik, the decorated veteran soldier who came to Rex Corp.’s service after he escaped from jail, being convicted for ruthless treating of prisoners of war, during the Southern Sea conflict. His experienced terrors were clearly shown in the numerous marks and permanent bruises covering his entire body, including a long scar running from his left ear to the tip of his pointed, well-defined chin.
    “Uh... no, sir, I just tripped,” Mark answered and straightened up, hurriedly brushing the dust off his tidy uniform. “And yes, Mr. Murdoc asks you to go to ground-level and greet a newcomer, introduce him to the rules and find out what are his interests here.” The young man gave a stiff bow and turned to leave, when Erik’s arm grabbed him by the shoulder. Besides beign a newbie in Rex Corp. and most unexperienced, which in itself seemed to be reason enough for constant mockery from his co-workers, most everyone was also jealous of his natural good looks, making him a leading favourite of the women in his department. The young, slightly confused and innocent character went well with his boyish and yet handsome face. A long time ago he would have definately been called a 'heartthrob'. And it seemed to physically pain everyone around him.
    “Hold on... you’re new here, right?” the fighter asked, a wry grin on his face.
    “Well, yes... I came here two months ago...” he replied, trying to writhe out of Erik’s iron grip and, even more out of his cold, piercing gaze. “I need to go back to work. Please, let go.”
    “You ever been to a ‘greeting’, kid?” The muscular fighter seemed to have no intention of letting Mark go or even loosing his hold on the young man in front og him.
    “No, not yet...” The answer was quiet, an unpleasant foreboding coming over Mark as he saw the mischievous look in the veteran’s eye.
    “Come on. There’s a first time for everything!” Erik chuckled and let go, motioning for the young man to follow with his arm. “And don’t worry about lard-ass. He won’t say a thing.”
    In truth, it wasn’t Lance Murdoc that Mark was afraid of. He just didn’t want to meet a criminal, talk to him or interact with him in any way. He didn’t quite understand Rex Corp.’s policy with allowing criminals to live in the slums, but it was the order here and there was nothing he could do about, so the least he COULD do was to just stay away.
    “You coming or not, boy?” Erik shouted from under him, his voice reverberating off the metallic walls. His two partners had loaded their guns and were waiting for Mark in the elevator. Obviously 'not' wasn't an option.
    “...Damn it...” he cursed and ran down the stairs into the large lift, the doors closing behind him and a sinking feeling appearing, as the cage began rapidly descending. He had a bad feeling about this.
    Erik began laughing. “Oh, hey, I just remembered a good one. So, there’s an elephant talking to this camel, right? The elephant says to it: “Hey, man, why do you have two tits on your back?” The camel looks at him and replies: “Well, that’s a stupid question coming from someone with a dick hanging from his face!”” He barely managed to finish the sentence as he and his two partners burst into laughter, each knocking Mark on the back with their palm as if it’d help him loosen up. “What’s your problem, kid, you want your momma?” Erik asked him, wiping the tears in his eyes.
    Mark looked at him for a moment, but then looked away, trying to avoid any conflict. “Let’s just get this over with. I have work to do.” The Greeting Squad, as they were often called, exchanged smirks and were silent for the remaining seconds of the ride. Erik's partners were rather common-looking thug-like men, whose biceps exceeded the size of their brain, both carrying the same army-drilled dull expression most always. The only way Mark could even tell them one from the other was their hair, as one had a bright red mohawk, while the other wore the classic buzz-cut. With a loud metallic ‘cling’ the elevator reached the bottom and the door opened, revealing the dirty, junk-filled entrance to the slums. It was poorly-lit and a rather unpleasant place to be.
    “So, where is this fleeing pussy?” Timothy, Erik’s cousin, said, stepping out of the elevator and shedding light on the surroundings with the flashlight attached to the barrel of his rifle.
    “I guess that’d be me,” a voice from seemingly nowhere replied, making everyone’s hearts jump for a second. The other two soldiers lit their flashlights and were pointing around in the dark, looking for where the voice came from. Finally Timothy noticed something in the distance, it was a dark silhouette, growing every moment, taking steps towards them and coming closer and closer.
    For a moment he couldn’t be clearly seen, only the tribal drawings on his clothes were reflecting light and letting others notice him. Soon, however, he was standing in the middle of a small group, three gun-wielding men standing around him and eyeing the dark stranger. His clothing was... peculiar. All his clothes were black, in contrast to his eerily pale skin. At first he seemed like a character from one of those ancient westerns, wearing a cowboy hat and poncho, the outer edges of both decorated with a rich, white tribal pattern. His other clothes, however, made it look like he just came out of a ring, wearing kick boxer-like finger-less padded gloves and footwear, also sporting a black karategi zubon, also with a tribal pattern running up the left leg. The man was of average height and a muscular, though not muscle-bound build.
    “What the hell, kid, you dressed up for? Halloween?” Erik laughed and his buddies joined in, only Mark remaining silent and watching from a distance. “So, what are you here for? Did you accidentally get into a fight, kill someone with a broken bottle and now need someplace to hide?”
    “What does it matter? I’m here, aren’t I?” the man replied coldly, his face hidden under his hat. “Just tell me where to find the Diamondbacks and I’ll be on my way.”
    “Ooooh... so you’ve already found out the rules? How did you come to do that?” The well-known soldier took a step closer to the man and eyed him, his head almost touching the man’s hat. “Who are you? And be mindful of what ya say, I can and WILL shoot you if I don’t like what I hear. Who are you and what are you here for?”
    For the first time the stranger raised his head, a smirk on his white lips. He looked Erik in the eyes and the fight-loving soldier felt his blood freeze in his veins. The eyes staring into his were dead, void of any warmth whatsoever and blank. “My name is Daniel Rebouss. I’m here to kill your boss and destroy everything he has spent his... unnaturally long life building, namely Yggdrasill and every living being in it." He took a slight pause, then finished: "Basically I’m here to settle a vendetta.”
    There was an eerie silence for a moment and Mark could hear his heart beating in his chest like a massive drum. He was startled by Erik’s gruff voice, breaking the silence. “...What the hell have you been smoking? Now I have no idea where you’re from or who you are, ‘Deadface’, but you better get the fuck out of my sight before I run you full of lead right here and now!” The man turned to leave, but suddenly stopped in his tracks and turned back around. “You know, I just figured I’d shoot you anyway. You piss me off.” The veteran suddenly pointed his rifle in Daniel’s direction, but the next moment it was flying through the air after a well-aimed kick.
    Before Timothy or his college buddy could react, Daniel’s knee was lodged into his face, shattering his facial bones and sending shards into his brain, quickly and effectively killing the large man. While still in mid-air, the dark fighter’s sights switched to the third of the three-man team and turned his flying knee-strike into a spin-kick in midair, catching his opponent square in the forehead, snapping his head back with enough force to break the man’s neck, killing him also.
    The mysterious and, obviously, deadly man crossed his arms and turned his attention back to Erik, who just got to his feet and was holding a combat knife in each arm. “You’ll regret the day you crossed Erik ‘The Slayer’ Cartman...” With that he leaped at Daniel, lurching menacingly. He attacked with a furious group of violent swings and jabs, which his enemy seemed to evade effortlessly. The white-skinned fighter kept stepping back to give himself room for movement as Erik kept advancing, when he suddenly darted to the side and delivered a sudden, straight kick to the soldier’s face, knocking him onto the ground.
    He wasn’t going to remain on the ground, but just as he was about to stand up Daniel’s foot crushed Erik’s left palm with a simple yet powerful stomp, rendering the hand useless. For a moment the dark man stood there, grinding his foot into the broken arm, a disturbing smirk on his face, but he finally stepped back and Erik quickly got on his feet and staggered for a bit, still clutching the other knife in his right hand. His mind was racing. He couldn’t decide what to do. His hands were shaking and fear was taking over his entire body, immobilizing it. He was facing a monster.
    Finally Erik turned around, ready for perhaps the final fight for his life, and was greeted by Daniel’s foot, with enough force to knock him back onto the ground, this time the knife slipping out of his fingers and rolling away on the dusty road. Erik tried to turn around onto his belly, but the very same foot soon came down upon his chest, pressing him hard against the ground. The experienced soldier felt his ribcage pressing into his lungs and air was growing scarce. He quickly grabbed Daniel’s leg with his whole arm, trying his hardest to pull it off him, but it was useless. There was an unbelievable... inhuman strength in the shell of this seemingly ordinary man.
    “Please...” he wheezed. “I... I know a lot... I can show you a way... I can tell you wh—“ His throat was blocked by his own blood and he coughed loudly, blood spilling on his face and the ground beside it. “Please... I’ll tell you everything...” There had been many life-and-death situations for him in the past, yet he had never felt this way. He would rather die than reveal the secrets of his comrades, but this time was different. This... man before him was like nothing ever before.
    Daniel’s arms were still calmly folded on his chest and he looked utterly bored with the easy prey at his feet. “I don’t need it... I already know everything there is to know about this... city. You’re useless. Die.” With that Daniel applied even more pressure to Erik’s ribcage and with a loud and disgusting ‘crunch’ the famed and disgraced soldier’s life ended. “What trash...” the killer said as he stepped off the dead body.
    For a moment he stood unmoving, as if petrified, then raised his head and looked into the distance, straight into a surveillance camera. He took off his hat, revealing his sandy blonde, slightly wild hair, giving the camera a good look of his face. Then, without a word, he put his hat back on, turned to face the city, and headed forward, disappearing into the shadows. For a moment the fluorescent white of the tribal drawings could be seen, but soon they also disappeared.
    Mark stood, staying upright solely thanks to a large pile of scrap metal, to which he was holding on to. Urine was still trickling down his leg, along with the tears streaming down his face. He almost died. He should have died. ‘...I have to get out of here...’ That was the only thought in his mind. He suddenly turned around and began walking away, his seemingly random steps soon becoming a wobbly, unstable run, then breaking into a run for his life. There it was, the stranger’s bike. Just a few more steps. He would be saved... But no, he wouldn’t. There was a gunshot, and the bullet ran straight through the back of Mark’s head, coming out his right eye socket. The young man fell dead only three meters from freedom, from salvation.
    Daniel rested his black revolver on his shoulder, still walking forward, the barrel smoking from the shot he just fired. “Nobody... Nobody gets out alive.”