Angelos Odyssey

by J. B. M. Patrick

  “I'm not worried.” He smiled somewhat cheerfully at her.

  “What. The. Fuck.” She glared back. “I don't know why, but I always end up with the crazy ones… people like you with no fuckin’ sens—”

  “Aaliyah… I could've broken out of here a long time ago.” He said sternly. “You know what I am by now, don't you?”

  “Yeah, b—”

  “So you know I don’t give up.”

  She spoke more softly, “I just want to know why you'd casually sit around! What about Zola and the Lieutenant? Who even are the people who kidnapped us? –You saw them, right?”

  “That's why…”

  “What?!” Aaliyah was confused.

  “It's called recon, girl. If they think they have you, sometimes they'll give up a little more about themselves than they normally would—well, that is if they're going to end up killing us. Regardless, Aaliyah, the whole point is to see our enemy before they see us…”

  “But they obviously see us—we're fucking tied up!”

  “But they may not know enough. Easy. The goal here is to find out what these guys are and how to go about stopping them. Don't worry, I’ll handle it.”

  Aaliyah grew red in the face. “Don't tell me that shit! I can fend for myself, Tavon!”

  Tavon remained serious. “Do you have your gun?”

  “No. Does it look li—”

  “Then you can't! Not against those things that got me.” Tavon moaned as he tried to stretch. “That crash really fucked me up… more than I’d anticipated.”

  “You need to see a doctor! Tell them to get you a d—”

  “Aaliyah!” Tavon growled in a more irritated tone. “Like I said: I'm not worried. Just relax.”

  “How the f—”

  “Keep listening to my story. It's helping me focus, because the next threat we face isn't like anything you've probably ever seen before.”

  “Someone's a little presumptuous, don't you think? You know they give us classes in combatives, right?”

  “Sure. Whatever, but what we're about to deal with is above a human level. It's fast. Something capable of slaughtering on a mass level.”

  “Don't be so dramatic.” Aaliyah sighed.

  “We'll see them again soon; this fight’s not over.”

  “You’re an idiot.”

  --

  Tavon

  --

  The reigning Champion of the Third Quadrant was a kid my age. He'd taken the title when he was only fourteen and became the hardest challenge I'd ever faced aside from Professor Norlin, and, damn, he was such an angry guy.

  I'd come to my hometown dojo feeling unease for the very first time.

  Stepping into that gym, I imagined that there was someone there worthy enough to take on. I just couldn't see him in the crowd having gathered around a central arena. Norlin had made quite a bit of money as the host of the fight and was proud to see his personal project move on toward the heights of the Junior League. Although it was disheartening in a way, the Professor fell out of shape over time and had started gaining weight. He'd met one of the other kid's mothers at an event, and their subsequent relationship was the only thing that could take his mind off fighting. Once Norlin lost his original passion for the sport, he resorted to only lifting weights and his own upcoming retirement. Moreover, he'd managed to accumulate enough wealth to potentially take care of himself for the rest of his life, and so Norlin wasn't around to train me as often as I grew older.

  I regretted his change in character upon hearing the Professor announce the beginning of the fight:

  I stood across from a fierce, muscular kid who stood several inches taller than me. His features were locked into the most determined expression, and fear seemed to be absent in his own mind. The kid's head was shaved, but his lower face was covered with a dark five-o-clock shadow.

  “Get ready, folks!” Norlin's voice boomed. He was a Mobb Deep fan and played the opening to “Shook Ones” on his sound system before turning it off at the match’s commencement. “We’re fortunate enough to have here today the two greatest fighters in the whole Quad. On the left, we’ve got the ever heavy-hittin’ superstar: KNOCKDOWN T!!!”

  A small portion of the audience, mostly composed of those from the Khalil Center, cheered before chanting my name. It was strange to suddenly feel so popular all at once.

  “And on the right…” The professor paused, looking grimly at the audience. “The one who's dropped more opponents than anyone in the ranks—one who's power has remained unmatched, the monster himself: Brock the Berserker!!!”

  Before my best friend enlisted in the Enrec Army, Brock was the reigning Champion of the Third Quadrant. It was a small claim to fame and netted him a private fortune. But because of who he was, he decided to quit fighting and espoused his unshakable faith in the Dawn Federation. He wanted to fight for his homeland, and so he went from a Lower-City Hero to a lowly soldier.

  They used him as a point-man.

  Brock's story is another topic entirely, and what's more important was that we engaged in a battle never before witnessed in a regular match.

  Professor Norlin shouted: “Let’s go, fellas!”

  Without so much as a word, Brock dashed at me with a speed I was barely able to comprehend before he was standing mere inches away and chopped at my throat! I backed away from the attack but caught the back of his other hand to my cheekbone followed by a direct jab from the same fist into my mouth!

  My lip burst open.

  I crossed my forearms in order to block his next strike! In response, his leg sprung out from under him and ascended into my chest, compelling me to stagger backward until I lost balance and tumbled…

  But Brock didn't fight dirty.

  He stood and waited for me to clumsily get to my feet. Norlin cried out: “C'mon, Knockdown! Don't let the Berserker lay the whoop-ass on ya now! Remember what I taught you!”

  I went in for a tackle, mustering all the strength in my body in an attack that would HAVE to send him to the floor! I collided with his frame and suddenly felt all the force I'd built up work against me. I couldn't even budge him. Brock bent over and hefted me up by the waist before slamming me down on the ground. I grunted after feeling the impact and watched with annoyance while my opponent arrogantly approached the crowd.

  “He can't hang!” Brock shouted to them and shook his head.

  I tapped him on the shoulder, and the kid spun around with a rapid hay-maker that I'd expected. Using what I'd learned from my time with the professor, flipped back into a partial handstand while wrapping my legs around Brock's arm before flexing my abs and hurling him onto the flooring! I then transitioned, keeping my hold on the extremity, and tried to work his arm into a submission—but he quickly slid out of my grasp and kicked out in an attack that narrowly missed my sternum! I leapt up and moved forward just as Brock rocketed upward and brought his heel down across my skull, forcing me into a kneel as I fought back the pain!

  Brock laughed, exclaiming “Weak,” and prepared to send a definitive strike my way with his fist, but I simply used the torque in my abs and twisted in evasion before sending forth a flurry of rapid jabs. My fists flew at him and retracted themselves in a manner so swift that they appeared hardly visible from a distance. It was part of a technique Norlin had introduced me to long ago: by using the right form and remaining grounded in a proper, forward-leaning stance, I could focus my strength into contracting my arm muscles fast enough to land solid, instant blows on any opponent!

  Brock felt himself being pushed back as he kept trying to step away from the sting of the hits! It was a psychological maneuver intended to shock one’s opponent into overexaggerating the strength contained in each individual strike.

  “Uh oh, everybody!” I could hear the satisfaction permeating Norlin’s voice. “It looks like Knockdown’s givin' the punishment right back to him! GO T!! Give it everything!”

  Brock grabbed one of my arms and jerked me toward him! I watched his top
half disappear before feeling his knee fly into my side. I keeled over for a second and turned into a jab thrown by Brock which almost knocked me unconscious. The “Berserker” continued and picked me up by my neck before launching a devastating uppercut into my gut!

  I collapsed onto the ground, and Brock walked away once more thinking himself triumphant.

  “STILL can't hang!” He screamed to the delight of the crowd.

  All eyes were on me as I slowly got to my knees; my body was shuddering with effort.

  “Knockdown! Ay, Knockdown! Ya hear me!”

  I could barely make out Norlin's voice in the chaos of the crowd.

  “Listen, T—and I'm being real with you, boy! Are you listening?!”

  I nodded in response. Brock was still waiting for me to act.

  “This one might be too much for you, Knockdown! Don't get yourself hurt; Brock isn't like those other fools you fought!”

  “Fuck that!” I responded before getting up to stand before my enemy.

  Brock grunted before throwing a punch that I deflected and brought to a halt with the help of my wrist, like Norlin would. His other arm came around to strike just as swiftly, and I did the same with my other joint. I then slid both fists forward, one aimed lower with the other aimed high! Brock blocked his face but was struck in his sternum—and I used my technique to reproduce the sting of the attacks a second time! Brock reacted by trying to defend lower, and so I responded with a hard strike to his face!

  He stumbled back while I moved into to uppercut him in the jaw and finish with a focused strike to his kidney! But he merely moved back a few feet and became even more serious. It was as if my hits hadn't even affected him…

  Brock smiled. “You're no push-over after all.”

  “Never have been.”

  “I've longed to face someone with potential.” He frowned. “But that's all you possess… nothing more! I’ll crush you here before your career even begins!”

  I realized that my opponent had been holding back all this time, and I became aware of it far too late…

  He came at me again but this time swung at me so with such speed that I barely had time to dodge. Brock forced me to start anticipating attacks from both his fists and feet as he began striking with incredible aggression, and I couldn't help but be overwhelmed! Eventually, it was one jab that collapsed my entire defense.

  One weak, controlled punch that distracted me from blocking another, much harder strike. Once I'd been decked in the head a few times, Brock sped up his attempted hits even more and began aiming for every exposed section of my body! I gasped and choked as his fists rained down upon me, and finally Brock ended it with a chop to the neck that felt like a block of concrete!

  I hit the ground, bloodied and broken, and Brock walked away for a third time.

  “Knockdown! Face it, you can’t win!” Norlin shouted.

  “What the hell, T?!” Isaac had been closely watching the fight. “You can't let him punk you like that—get up! Dfari’s watching!”

  I noticed my boss, a silent spectator, as sweat crept between my eyelids and burned while blurring my vision.

  “He can't do it, ref. It’s over.” Brock said solemnly.

  I drew my arms to my sides and struggled to move as I coughed. “I'll win.”

  The audience grew silent.

  “Knockdown T, you gotta sit this one out, man!” Norlin was pleading. “Accept it and we’ll just take the time to train harder!”

  “No!” I came to a weak stand and tried to straighten my posture. Norlin respected me too much to call the match before I was ready to throw in the towel.

  “I won't lose to him.”

  “Knockdown, he will kill you!” He screamed. “Give it up!”

  I looked over at Brock, who now seemed to regard me with slightly more respect.

  “Are you ready?” He said.

  I nodded and got back into my fighting stance.

  This time I went on the offensive, but instead of keeping my guard up I did everything I could to land an effective hit. As I struck Brock with a barrage of blows, he maneuvered his arms and body in a more strategical manner and pushed back every attempt I made to land an attack. Brock finally recognized a portion of me left completely open, and so he went in for a strike he believed would finish me off once and for all!

  He brought his fist around and slammed it into the side of my jaw, and—

  I crouched, shouted as I bolstered my strength, and put the last of my effort into an strike aimed perfectly below and behind his chin. This time something unexpected happened:

  I felt a surge of intense pressure filter into the entirety of my arm muscles. Within a second, my entire right limb expanded into a larger, bulkier version of itself before I buried my attack into my opponent in a moment astounding everyone spectating the match!

  Brock was tossed across the whole of the room, and the only thing that brought his body’s flight to a halt was a wall he collided against before crashing onto the flooring and struggling to catch his breath as blood seeped from his teeth. But he came into a quick recovery, and Brock sprang to his feet before sprinting toward me with a renewed will! From afar, I could see something odd.

  He was smiling.

  I crouched into a squat, concentrating isometrically on the fibers in my legs, and launched forward at the combatant! As I felt as if I were soaring through the air, I brought my knee up and clashed square into Brock's sternum! It knocked him off balance, and he stepped back while gasping for air. As he hesitated, I contracted both of my arms and began slamming my fists into his chest and forced him to trip and collapse onto his back!

  Respecting his space—as he’d done mine, I waited for Brock to come to his feet.

  “What the hell?” I heard Norlin mutter.

  The crowd around me wasn’t sure of what they’d just witnessed and had grown eerily quiet.

  “No way!” Isaac shouted. “Did he just make parts of his body… bigger? –Did you see that thing that was around him, Dfari?”

  “I did.” He said, looking perplexed. “It was… black. Some kind of bullshit magic trick? This another one of those rigged matches or somethin’?”

  Brock looked bitter as he came to stand and said, “What the hell are you—how did…?”

  “I-I don't know…” I said, feeling somewhat afraid myself.

  I briefly recalled the smugglers who’d brought me into the Citadel. Had I done this to them?

  “No matter.” My opponent brushed it off. “That was only a minor setback. It’s time to end this!”

  We both charged at each other—but Brock was faster! Demonstrating surprising dexterity, he grasped my neck before attempting to slam my figure downward. My arms pulsated with energy, and I used them to propel myself from the ground as I consequently kicked him in the head! Brock almost fell to his knees but rapidly moved into a running crouch! I faced him before dashing in to meet Brock head on!

  The two of us collided, our fists outstretched before striking each other at the exact same moment!

  And I fell unconscious in the ensuing impact.

  --

  My eyes opened to the sound of Norlin speaking to the audience.

  “In an unprecedented match, Knockdown T pushed back with ferocity against the Berserker's offense! It was an epic battle, fellas, that only one can be the winner of!”

  The crowd remained hushed in anticipation.

  “Although both contestants managed to completely KO each other, there was one who consistently demonstrated superior skill… and I declare that—”

  “Hey look! He's moving!”

  I shook as I struggled to gain my bearings; my legs wouldn't obey me.

  “What's this!? Knockdown T isn't down for the count?”

  I could only prop myself up using my shoulder.

  “I intended to declare the Berserker the winner of this fight, but if Knockdown gets up and Brock stays down… well, folks, I guess that makes T the victor!”

 
A few familiar voices in the crowd began to cheer.

  “Hell yeah!” Isaac shouted. “That shit was extraordinary, T!”

  “I said!” Everyone looked toward the spot where Brock lay. “I said…” He struggled to speak. “He. Can’t. Hang.”

  The audience went wild as Brock wearily got to his feet. Eventually, I came to a clumsy stand as Norlin made his way over to us. Brock gave me a serious look before offering me a handshake; I took it.

  “Tavon.”

  “Brock.”

  Norlin came up to us and shouted toward the crowd: “In the match between Knockdown T and Brock the Berserker, I declare…” He held up Brock's arm. “Brock the winner!”

  He then looked to me with an expression I’d never seen before and caused me to nearly become overwhelmed with emotion. Norlin was impressed, more proud than he’d ever been of one of his pupils. He said to me: “Good job, son.”

  --

  It was a long time before I ever saw the Third Quadrant Champion again. We were scheduled to have a rematch, of course, because not everybody believed that Brock was the real victor. But in the end, we never ended up having the official fight. He enlisted in Enrec and gave up the title, and I'd moved on to a completely different world; however, the two of us wondered who was the stronger man for quite a while before it was ultimately decided.

  15

  Running Away

  --

  Janelle

  --

  “DECIDED?” Aaliyah asked.

  “I'll have to get to that part later—you don't gotta rush me.”

  “I wasn't rushing you; it's just hard to hear you, you know, UNDERNEATH ALL THESE FUCKING ROPES! Break us out of here, Tavon!”

  “Girl,” Tavon chuckled, “you don't have ANY patience! You know, they say 'patience is a v—'”

  “Shut up, Tavon. They’re going to shoot us anyways, so just continue with your story.” Aaliyah closed her eyes and sighed.

  “This time, it's not exactly my story.”

  “Oh,” she raised an eyebrow. “So, it's not all about you after all, is that what I'm hearing?”

  “If I could just find out what makes you so petty—”

  “Tavon! Just tell me the story!” She paused for a moment before appearing embarrassed. “Your voice is calming right now, and I’m trying to think.”