That night, the roads covered in sleet and snow that surrounded New York City's Time square were closed and crowds of hundreds maybe even thousands of Aryans stood tightly packed on the intersection. On the Megatron and electronic billboards were two men sitting at a desk with a backdrop of a torn down and weathered village in the middle of the desert. The two men were completely identical and rather ugly, they had long blonde hair that graced their white suit shoulders, they had inset eyes, fat lips, and a bull’s flat and wide nose.
Ansel stood in the midst of the crowd, solely focused on the identical commentators sitting in their leather chairs motionless, and staring at the camera with offensively bright blue eyes. Ansel stood in the crowd feeling the powder falling from the sky, slowly and slightly adding weight to the brown rim of his fedora, tainting the red ribbon with splotches of white snow.739Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡe16ogUfBeB
The air around the crowd was filled with bright neon lights and the strong stank of bitter and malodorous scent of draft beer and hard liquor, the pungent and sickening stench of tobacco and non-prescription drugs. The crowd was akin to a crowd at a slipknot concert, a total moshpit of anarchy and stupidity. Spherical white drones with stereos encompassing the full frontal side of the drone, long tentacles hung down from their globular bodies.
Ansel kept his face buried in his taupe trench coat, calmly as amped EDM and rock music blasted from the drone’s stereos, in between the ear bleeding music was Fourth Reich propaganda, “Faithful Aryans, keep a watchful eye on your neighbors! They may not be like you or I, and that is wrong, a handsome price will be paid to those who detain and hand over god’s rejects to the Fourth Reich will be paid a handsome sum.”
“Beware those around you, for they bear dark hair and eyes, the sign of imperfection.”
*****
After the array of propaganda was over the music filled the air again and the commentators took over the mic, “Good evening ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to the MFF, the miracles fighting federation.” The two identical commentators spoke in perfect unison without fail. The one on the left turned to his twin to the right with an outrageous and over-joyous grin spread in between his muscular cheeks, ”Well Jimmothy isn’t this a wonderfully contrasted match-up tonight?” his voice was deep and enthusiastic, his throat, or lack thereof, rippled with veins and muscle.
The speaking twin stopped talking and looked back at the camera smiling, Jimmothy looked at the screen, “That is for sure what we have here on the MFF tonight, Matt.” The black and red MFF logo on a bright and blinding white background faded out in place of an aerial shot that flew around a small village that was ravaged and sandblasted engulfed in sand dunes and small valleys. “The desert just got a whole lot hotter, in the western shack we have the Zulu Zealot! Iwisa!” the aerial camera zoomed in on a small wooden shack with a red painted tin roof, before changing cameras to a camera sitting on a wooden table displayed a man of African descent, wearing a traditional Zulu headdress with a sprawl of long red feathers in the front, he wore an iron chest plate with tufts of hay sprouting from beneath the chest plate, he wore only a studded skirt and traditional tufts of hay around his ankle above his completely bare feet.
Iwisa sat in a creaky wooden chair sharpening his iklwa with a rock, sending sparks in every which way, the iklwa was a spear that was about the length of a short sword, then swinging in in practice against the wooden shack, leaving deep indentations in the termite infested wood. He then turned around and picked up an axe with a crescent shaped blade attached to a straight wooden handle, and used them hand and hand striking the wooden walls rhythmically, starting slowly and then accelerating with time until, despite Iwisa being an unmodified fighter in the MFF, the separate blows became undistinguishable and became a blur.
“Iwisa looks vicious tonight, a true Conan of the savannah if I did say so myself Jimmothy.” Said Matt excitingly turning his wild gaze towards his identical counterpart.
“You know I have to be honest, when I say that I’m genuinely surprised how far Iwisa has come, so far as to become the number five contender in the whole MFF.” Countered Jimmothy, obviously displaying immense faith in Iwisa’s capabilities as a competent- no extraordinary combatant amongst the “miracles” and beasts he faces off against on a weekly basis.
“You know Jimbo, if we’re being honest here,” said Matt breaking the sentence with a hearty chuckle, “When he first entered in the MFF draft, a scrawny little piece of chocolate hiding in the cupboard, I didn’t think he would make it past the draft, but gosh darn he made it. Heck he even refused any sort of modification, instead building up his own strength through extreme workout regiments.”
“We both know that Iwisa is not to be trifled with, however a newcomer to the MFF, killing his way through the draft based in the remaining provinces of China, we’ve got the cutting-edge Chen!” announced Jimmothy, followed by a tremendous roar from the crowd.
The aerial camera then switched to a similar desktop camera this time focused on a Chinese man with a scraggly and unkempt beard infested with slippery grease, he wore a traditional Chinese skullcap helmet, with flaps of leather hanging down from the back to protect the neck and it’s vertebrae which were unlimitedly essential to any warrior, no, any person in general. He sat down in the wooden chair trembling in duress, his eyes darted sharply around the room worriedly as he absentmindedly loaded bullets into the swing out cylinder of a six-shot snub nosed revolver, constantly missing the chambers as he attempted load the revolver with .45 caliber hollow point bullets.
“So what do you think about our newbie? Come on be honest with me, and I’ll be honest with you.” Asked Jimmothy looking towards Matt intently awaiting an answer.
“Honest?” asked Matt in return, raising an eyebrow in a questioningly manner.
Jimmothy raised an eyebrow in return and returned his gaze of daggers, “Completely and indefinitely. Honest.”
“Ok, this kid,” gesturing toward the video feed behind him of him tensely observing the revolver carefully, he let out another hearty chuckle that at this point became a hallmark of his, “He ain’t gonna make it!” he let out another chuckle which quickly mutated into a bout of excessive and glutinous bout of wheezing guffaw that was akin to a madman’s.
“Why-hy, “stuttered Jimmothy returning the wheezing laugh akin to a wolf’s howl, he took a deep breath, taking a moment to pull himself together, “Why do you say that hyena?”
Matt calmed himself, sucking his stomach in and straightening his beige colored tie decorated with black diamond insignia's arranged in a pattern. “I mean look at the poor guy,” gesturing at the Chen who was now fiddling with a make shift stone shiv, he was fashioning against a gargantuan edgy boulder outside his shack that was half buried in sand.
“God, now he’s outside his shack, I guess it’s free game now. Open season.”
*****
Chen looked up to see the a round white drone focus its lens on him, while he struck his homemade shiv against the rock sending sparks close to his face, he was perfecting the same shiv that he had used to kill his brother in cold blood, something he oddly didn’t regret with an ounce of remorse, after all it was in the name of survival.
The desert air was hot and dry in the most fatiguing way, he used his hand as a visor to look out at the distance which was obscured by heatwaves. The wind howled through hollowed boulders, sending sand through the air hearing the sand tapping against the circular drone that just hovered there in front of him.
Suddenly the spherical drone projected a loud and high pitched air raid horn, Chen, startled stood up sheathing his shiv inside his pants and pulled out the snub nosed revolver, he only has six shots. A whirlwind of sand and dust surrounded him, he heard the howling of the wind but also something else something slight and tame, like a kitty purring in deep rumble.
Chen backed away holding the pistol, cocked, towards the direction of the continuous purring. The howling stopped and the sand calmed down revealing a tall and muscular lion that was at least a head taller than tall and lanky Chen, It wore a steely grey pelt and a chocolate brown mane, it stood on top of the boulder Chen had previously been using to sharpen his shiv on, the lion stared at him and wagged his long tail with a brown tuft on the end of it. The lion let out a thunderous roar that somehow managed to echo through the deserted village, and jumped down off the rock and slowly and tauntingly circled Chen meeting his horrified gaze with its bright violet eyes with reptilian like black pupils with its lips curled back displaying four rows of teeth, two rows on the top and two on the bottom. It snarled sadistically and pounced with all its tremendous strength, towards its prey.
*****
“Oh yes, I almost forgot.” Said Matt with another chuckle, “Meet Liza, our super engineered kitty she’s equipped with thermal vision, extremely amped strength and speed, but to shorten it up, Chen here is in a lot of trouble.”
*****
Iwisa heard the alarm sound, he took a deep breath grabbing his ox-hide shield that was as tall as him in one hand and his iklwa in the other hand holding it point forward as he carefully exited through lead door of the primitive shack.
“See? Unlike Chen this guy right here, my boy, knows wat to do.” Said Matt gesturing to the screen behind him that had now been split down the middle to include Iwisa’s first person cam made possible by special cameras optically implanted in the corneas, and the other side included the first person camera of Chen who was now aiming his revolver at Liza, who was still circling Chen.
“I don’t know Matt, I think our Chinese warrior here still has a chance.”
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