From The Forest
1.
Nothing else seemed to matter. I could only see the red nylon bag in front of me, and my wrapped fist as the two collided, time and time again. I couldn't see the mirror at the back of the room, nor the pale yellow light as it danced across its reflective surface. The people didn't even seem to exist, but rather dwell in a different reality altogether. There was only the soft pff, pff, pff as my fist slammed into the worn, red bag.
Until I heard a small voice call out, "Yo, Michael!" I stopped and looked over my shoulder, and saw a small red fox with a towel around his neck, a sweating bottle of water, and a pair of thin glasses on his nose walking towards me.
"You're aware that you've been going at it for, like, about an hour now, right? Either you're going to wear yourself out, or you're going to blow right through that bag."
I chuckled. "Well, Josh, I'm fairly certain that the bag's going to give out before I do. And I assume that the treadmill's as 'hardcore' as you're willing to go?"
"Hey," he said with a laugh. "I'm only here to shed a few pounds. I'm not exactly aiming for the stars, Mr. 'GoldenRod'."
"And what's wrong with aiming for the stars?" I asked, placing my hands behind my head. "It's better than settling for the gutter."
"That may be true, but if you miss the stars, you've got only nothingness ahead of you."
"Except for more stars along the way, that is." He snorted and rolled his eyes.
"You know, you're just as head-strong as your father ever was, and almost as bright." He sat down on the bench beside the station, and held the bottle out to me. "Need a drink?"
"Didn't you already take a swig out of it?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Dude, it's fine. I don't have a disease or anything, and I haven't eaten in several hours. Just take it." I took the bottle, gave it a quick glance-over, then shrugged and took a quick drink. "Now, do you mind telling me why you're pushing yourself so hard lately?"
I looked down, and narrowed my eyes at him. "Razputin." His eyes widened, and I swore I saw nothing but fear in those chocolate-brown spheres.
"Razputin? You mean Vitali Razputin? The King of the Dead?"
"Yeah...that one..."
"And Nicky's letting you go against him? What the hell is he thinking?"
"I don't know," I said with a shrug. "I guess he thinks I actually have a chance. And to be quite frank, I do, too..."
"Are you nuts?" Josh yelled, drawing the attention of several people by the weights. "The guy's a fuckin' killer! Almost every time he fights, someone ends up in the hospital."
"Yeah...I'm aware of that. But that's in the ring. He's big, slow, and strong, but I'm light, quick, and I have more experience outside the ring. To be honest, I don't think he can hold a candle to me."
"Careful, Michael," he half-sang. "Arrogance is often a man's downfall. Don't get cocky, or you'll end up swallowing your own teeth."
"Yeah," I said with a shrug. "I know. Hey, what time is it, anyway?"
"Uh, it's about a quarter to five," he said, glancing at his watch. "Why?"
"Holy..." I half-yelled, grabbing my stuff as quickly as I could. "I'm supposed to meet Locke at the theatre at 6:30!"
"You gonna shower first?"
"I'll do that at the house. Catch you later, Josh!" I dashed out the door, got in my car, and drove off, leaving the fox in a mist of concern and confusion.
2.
I know a lot of people find it strange. And to be honest, I sometimes do, too. But I can't deny that being surrounded by nothing but plants is comforting to me. Plants don't hurt people. They don't criticize you for your faults. They don't aspire to drain everything you have for their own benefit. They simply seek light and water, and in return, they bless you with their unnatural beauty.
"My dear Venus," I whispered as I gently stroked the fly-trap's leaves. "You never cease to amaze me...How is it that you can use so little, yet give so much? Why do you let me witness your brilliance and power?"
Q_uite simple, she said with an audible smile. You give to us what we need to live, and ask nothing in return. Why would we keep from he who prevents us from fading into the eternal blackness of Death? You care for us out of the goodness of your heart, and in exchange, we give you what you need, dear Prince._
"Hmm...Thank you, Venus. Your kindness is unrivaled." I nearly jumped out of my skin as I heard a sharp knock on my door, and a gravely voice say, "Locke...You okay in there?"
"I'm fine, Myles. Just tending to the plants."
"Mind if I come in?" I growled reflexively; Someone asking to come in and see my plants...it's just not right. Besides, why does he have to bother me when I'm working?
It's alright, Prince. So long as he does not strike against us, we do not mind his presence...
I sighed, then got up and went over to the door. With a quick flick of my wrist, I undid the lock, and let the wendigo walk in. He winced for a second, probably trying to get rid of the spores in his eyes, and said, "Locke, Michael just called. He says you two have plans tonight?"
"Yeah. We were planning to go see The Raven's Klaw. Why?" I asked, folding my arms. "You wanting to come with?"
He scoffed. "With that hard-headed dolt? Why? He's nothing but a brute and a trouble-maker, and he's going to get you into trouble, sooner or later. More than likely, sooner."
"And you wouldn't want to come along and make sure I'm okay? Whatever happened to 'I'm not going to leave you to burn when the world goes up in flames'? Suddenly decided that things are getting a little too hot for your tastes?"
"No," he growled. "I'm just not going to get involved with that ignoramus if he gets you in trouble."
"Whatever," I said, and turned back to my plants. "So what about you? Just going to stay home and pout, as usual?"
"I don't pout," he said, narrowing his eyes at me. "I'm just going to stay here and get a few things done...unless that's too depressing..."
"Stop being such a pussy, Myles. If you want to tell me something, tell me! I'm not going to wait thirty years for you to straighten your tongue enough to say something straight-forward!"
For a moment, it seemed as though I had actually left a mark. His spine straightened, his fists relaxed, and his eyes actually dropped down to the floor nervously. "I...I mean..." Then he regained his composure, and he said, "Nothing. Just forget it."
"Fine. If there's nothing wrong, I'm going to get ready. So if you don't mind," I said, motioning towards the door. He gave one final snort, and started to walk out the door. With his claws gently bracing the doorknob, he turned his head back towards me, he said, "Just a quick note, Locke. Don't expect me to help if you get hurt because of this guy. If you walk out that door, you're on your own." He walked out and closed the door, and I brushed my hair out of my eyes.
"Fucking twerp."
3.
"Come on," I muttered, glancing at my watch again. "Where the heck is he?" As a cold October wind danced across the theatre parking lot, I shivered and pulled the black hoodie closer to my body.
You'd think a hoodie and a thick coat of fur would keep me warm...But I guess nature just doesn't follow a set path of logic..., I thought with a snort.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a few teenagers pointing at me and laughing. I guess a six-foot tall, black-furred wolf with yellow streaks is a bit of an odd sight, but that's still no reason to mock me. As calmly as I could, I pulled my hands from my pockets, cracked my knuckles, and began to walk towards them.
"Gentlemen," I said, surprised at how composed I sounded. "Do you mind telling me what it is that you find so funny?"
"Yeah," one said, trying to keep from laughing. "Your face. You have a fucking piss-yellow streak on your face." With that, the group burst out laughing.
I gave a small chuckle, then wrapped my hands in his jacket and hoisted him in the air. A look of terror spread across his friends' faces, effectively cutting off the screeching laughter.
"Look, punk. I don't know who you think you're dealing with, but let me tell you. Name's Michael Imahara. Been a professional fighter since I was sixteen years old. Been in two-hundred and thirteen fights, only lost twice. I was knocking fuckers like you out cold while you were still in Pre-Cal, scratching your ass with a number two pencil. If you think for one second that I'm just gonna let you laugh at me like I'm a fucking joke, I'll put your head through the hood of your car and push it off a cliff. Sound fun to you?"
The kid gulped, and nodded, so I put him down and gave him a light pat on the head. "Good boy." As I walked away, I could hear the kid laughing nervously, but the others were dead quiet.
"Nice display," I heard an oh-so-familiar voice say. I turned to look beside me, and I saw none other than the green-and-white cat standing with his arms folded, an eyebrow raised. "A tad extreme, but very interesting. Do you take requests?"
"Hahaha," I mocked, narrowing my eyes at him. "You just gonna pick at me all night, or were we planning to see a movie?"
He scratched his chin thoughtfully, and said, "I guess we'll see a movie, though it's not nearly as much fun. I was thinking Raven's Klaw. Got any objections?"
"Well, actually, I-"
"Good. Now come on. I'm buying." I rolled my eyes, and followed close behind. I may be stubborn, but even I knew that this was a battle not even the All-Father could win.
4.
"I don't know," I said as we walked out of the movie. "I thought it was a bit...lacking. Too many plotholes."
Locke looked up at me as though I had just grown something out of the top of my head. "Dude, it's an action movie! No one cares about the plot. People just go for the tits and explosions, and hope that one goes off in a guy's head."
"Maybe so, but I prefer movies with a bit more color, if that makes sense. Without a good story, the movie just falls apart. Like a wall without mortar."
"And you know what you do with that wall?" I shrugged. "You put it in an action movie and blow it up!" I sighed, and threw my empty drink in the garbage.
As we walked outside, I heard someone call out "Imahara" in a thick Russian accent. I looked around, and I finally saw him. He was six foot four, two hundred fifty pounds of pure muscle. He walked over, and gave me a cold smile.
"Mr. Imahara, I imagine?"
"That's right." I don't know what it was, perhaps some cold, primal voice in the back of my head, but something was telling me that talking to the bull out in the open was a bad idea. "Is something wrong?"
"Not really. I just enjoy meeting my opponent outside the ring before the fight." He quickly glanced over me, then shifted his glare over to Locke, who looked ready for an all-out war. "I've heard a lot about you, Imahara. How you've only been beaten twice in the ten years you've been boxing professionally...How you've mastered the One-Hit K.O....How you graduated valedictorian in college and got a PhD in physics and chemistry, yet you went into the ring...Why'd you give up the scientific career?"
"I never wanted it. I just wanted to know exactly what I could do. And plus, it'll help if I get hurt in a fight."
"Careful what you say, Imahara," he said with insincere concern. "You don't want to jinx yourself before we fight man-on-man, one-on-one...Of course, the real question I have for you is 'Will you be able to fight knowing that your friend's life is in danger'?"
"What?" He chuckled, and delivered a hard blow to my jaw, causing me to stagger back. While I was recovering, he grabbed Locke by the throat, hoisted him up, and dragged him over to his black ThunderBolt, where he threw him in the back seat.
"If you give up, Imahara, I'll let your friend go. If you even think of fighting back, I'll give him back...piece by piece..." He jumped in, started it up, and began to drive off.
"No!" I knew it was stupid, but I jumped on the back of the car as it pulled out, smashed the window in, and grabbed the edge, ignoring the glass that dug into my paws.
"What in bloody hell?" He swerved out of the lot and hit a curb, but I held on, digging my claws into the rubber frame. He obviously realized that I wouldn't be shaken off that easily, so he slammed the back of the car into a passing truck. I felt my skull collide with the metal, sending stars across my eyes, but I shook them away and strengthened my grip.
"Alright, Imahara! Enough games!" He reached into the seat beside him, and time seemed to slow as he pointed a gun back at me. I stared down the barrel, frozen in fear, until I heard the dreaded crack as he pulled the trigger, and a white-hot pain shot up my spine. My muscles went limp, and I fell off the car, hitting my head on the solid asphalt below. I could only watch as the car drove off, and hope that Locke would make it out alive.
My vision began to swirl, and an oozing black began to drip over everything until I was standing in a dark, cold abyss, a familiar face standing before me.
"Lawrence? What are you...Why are you here?"
He chuckled, his black robe bouncing with each breath. "You know why I'm here, Michael. Your time has come...and you're not going to stop me this time. I've been watching you, waiting for the time when I could strike...and now, your soul is mine. I'm not going to give it up without a fight."
Suddenly, a sound broke through the ooze...Muffled, broken, and light, but enough to draw away Lawrence's attention. When he looked away, I reached over, grabbed the kama on his hip, and swung the chain around his neck. By the time he had realized what was going on, I had wrapped the kama's chain around his throat, and began pulling. With a sharp gasp, he fell to his knees, gripping at the links.
"No, Lawrence. You're not going to beat me. Not this time, and not ever." I pulled him in, and leaned down so that I was only an inch or two away from his bony face. "You know very well that I could ruin you. I could tear you apart, limb from bony limb. But I won't. Not if you let me go."
"And why would I do that?" he asked with a snarl. "This is my realm! My world! Here, I am king, not some pathetic mortal like you!"
"I may be a mortal, but I'm a mortal that's about to kick your ass unless you shut the fuck up and listen. I have things I need to do back there. And I'm not going to let you go until I have your word that you won't interfere."
For a moment, I could almost taste his anger. His eyes were emitting a dark blue flame, his bony hands were tightly clenched around the chain, and I could hear his teeth gritting together. But he obviously acknowledged his defeat, as he bowed his head and sighed.
"Fine. I won't interfere. You may go back to the world of the living. Now away with you." As the final syllable left his lips, he faded back into the darkness, and a thin beam of light broke through the wall.