Seven years ago
“We’re going to destroy you nerds!” I hate these kids. *Swoosh* they fly all around us, the balls on the playground. “Throw harder you losers, they’re going to-” my friend, Marcos, stops his mouth from running off as it usually does, a ball straight to the jaw and down.
“C’mon Christian, we two are enough to put down those assholes,” my heart is pumping whenever I’m next to him. We push each other to do better, and *swoosh* “Nice!” together it doesn’t feel like we can be stopped.
Present
This was supposed to be a normal job, yet here I found myself, attending a gang meeting. If Nataelo wins this battle, he’s going to control more than half of the city from the shadows. The mayor can’t do much after expending so many resources in the War of the Condoms, so it’s up to us and more specialised authorities to deal with their kind. “Can’t say I’m particularly excited, but ever since the encounter with the Crosswalk Killer, this sort of stuff seems to bring me back,” to what I discovered I enjoy the most, fighting people on the crosswalk. “Sure, I haven’t gotten into a proper fight in a while now, but this is as close as it gets. The trash talk with a damn gangster, attending, and soon watching, territorial disputes,” hard not to get my blood pumped by it. “Sure, I would like to stay out of it, establish a new routine with my work. But given the work I’ll be sure to do working for this company, I might as well enjoy it.”. I just have to be careful, not to grow too comfortable, so I don’t repeat the same mistakes.
Let’s put on some music, I still have to drive some twenty minutes. “Damn, my knees are shaking,” I just can’t tell if it’s from fear, or excitement. I tried to steer away from it, but it just pulls me back in. “I should talk with someone,” after all, I could’ve backed out of it at any point, as any normal person would do. Instead, I’m driving towards it and trembling in anticipation. “This might have something to do with my impulses probably,” I’m no therapist, but seems to be some sort of link. “Ooh, Thrillet, love this song, Crazy in my Mind.”.
20 minutes later
The sun is setting, and the city lights come out. I’m waiting at the designated spot, it’s an abandoned kids park. The prior mayor, from what I heard, was supposed to make this place into a parking lot, but after disappearing without trace, and with the new mayor coming to power, it has been left untouched. I haven’t asked Cecillia nor boss about it, but I have a feeling the gangs have a hand into the whole ordeal. This is, after all, one of the portions of the city the gangs are fighting over, so it has to have some sort of significance.
The playground separates two sections of the city, one where there are the rundown, bad and depraved apartments, and the other where the middle class people live into. I stand parallel to it, there is a natural park as well, with a street separating me from getting near it. It’s really large too, almost a football field in size. I can see some people lurking from within the bad apartments, looking down at the playground and all around. I was able to pick a good spot, so I believe at least, since none of the figures seem alarmed by-
“Oi don’t muv, alrighty?” how did this guy get behind me?! “We got ‘im boss,” there is more of them, a dozen, fifty… how many are there?!
“Kid, who’s your daddy?” that doesn’t sound right. As he lets me turn around, I see a lot of average in height men, most shorter than me. The only one, who I can assume is their boss, is just as tall as I am. “Speak up, before I put something between your thigh and neck,” I don’t know what that is supposed to mean, so I better oblige.
“I’m here to attend the gathering, per Heprane’s orders,” I’m still wearing my suit, so even if I’m not looking as tough as these guys, perhaps I can pull through.
“Heprane?” their boss, who’s wearing a tight, black suit asks. “He didn’t respond to Boss’ calls, where is he?”. He asks as he twists his long moustache, black hair tied to the back of his head, and then going down his round chin, his deep, green eyes staring holes through me.
“He needed a few more men, so he went to the next city, but the blue suits pulled us over, so I had to come alone,” the man gestures his subordinates to go ahead with a head gesture, continuously rubbing and twisting his long moustache, pucking his lips at me.
“Does Heprane figure it might’ve been him?” he puts a heavy accent on that, so it might be safe to assume he’s talking of boss. And as we speak, I hear the noise of many people gathering behind me, so the other gang leaders must have arrived.
“He’s not sure, but they seemed to have been waiting for us, just outside the city. And since boss likes driving fast, you know how it is,” he seems to think a little, then his eyes widen.
“Boss?” he says the word in a grave tone. He slowly approaches me, his black shiny shoes reflecting even as the night approaches. *Sfwop, sfwop* he pulls his pants down and starts slapping his dick side to side! “We only call Boss he who had taught us the art, thou shall not refer to anyone else besides Boss as boss!”. Rookie mistake, but there’s no turning back, I have to take care of him before the others come to his call, so I run away. “Come back here coward! Who sent you, and what do you know?!”. His dick slapping matches his running rhythm and angry voice. I can see the art in it, just not the cult-like obsession these people have.
“There it is,” I say to my relief as we come out from between the trees. In front of me, where the playground is at, there’s around four to five hundred people, packing the whole thing to the brim. But what’s important to me, is the crosswalk leading to the other side where the park is at. I step onto it, feel its rough embrace, and turn around to see the man following me, his green eyes fixated on me. “This is where you go down,” as soon as his foot touches the crosswalk, I remember how I felt during the War of The Condoms. The crosswalk coming closer to me out of its own volition, ensnaring me into its beautiful dream, and “Come to me, Lady Guardian!” the space around me gets encapsulated.
The man stops running in the next moment, the pants he holds hanging loosely as he looks around him. I don’t waste a moment and envelop myself in the armour. I don’t plant to kill him or anything, just knock him out, steal his suit and-*zznnggg* the white stripes on me start shaking, and like paint dripping down a fresh wall, they start to shake off. “This makes you really, and I mean really, valuable kid,” he shows me a lustful smile. I couldn’t tell how he did it, but his ability allowed him to weaken my own. *Zznnggg* the reverberations come again, and this time I saw it, his dick got slapped to each side in quick succession, some white spots where he hit and some missing below his feet. “It won’t take you long to understand, so let me tell you, this is my song. Each time I slap my instrument from one side to another, I manipulate the paint from the crosswalk to match the rhythm, thus creating powerful reverberations. These reverberations are what cause your own ability to weaken,” I listened to all of that surprisingly. What’s more troublesome, *zznnggg* is how he can charge towards me while slapping his dick!
I manage to dodge a sliding kick from him. His penis also stops for a few moments, as it goes backwards. *Swoosh* I extend my stripe, its range is affected by the resonance as well, but it’s enough to reach his back and hit him. I hear a powerful noise as he flies to the other side and into my constructed wall, a crack showing through. “You’re not really good at this, are you,” he can tell my constructed space is weak, and I notice at his back a white spot, one missing from where he tried to kick me. “I’ll tell you right now, kid, just give up and come with me. There will be less broken bones that way,” I trust those words, as he stands up seemingly unaffected, and as he turns towards me, his pants seem to not have been dirtied in the least, no part of his suit now that I look. “You can see right? Our experience just differs that much. You may have had some fights, given your powerful ability and the fact that you can make a space of your own,” many white spots appear all over his body, presumably where his dick can reach… so why are there some on his knees. “But I had gone through many more than you did,” that I can figure. “The name is Francesco kid, I figure you might know that already, so what’s yours?”.
“Christian,” no point in hiding. If he defeats me, I’ll probably be forced into joining his or Nataelo’s gang, and if I win, I can use him as a secure way to bait Nataelo, instead of instigating Nataelo to a potential fight. “If I win, will you tell me some things about yourself, Francesco?”. He lets out a small chuckle, sliding his fingers across his long, slick moustache.
“I love your optimism, and there’s nothing for me with Boss if you win, so I’ll tell you everything you want to know,” a deal agreed upon by our shared smiles. My old self would have been thinking of all the ways to escape this confrontation. But given my job, deep satisfaction I feel while on the crosswalk, and respectable foe before me, I can only find myself smiling. “Come Christian! For you’ll be mine once this is over!”.
As he opens his arms, his penis starts to swing side to side, and I let go of my white stripes. He seems surprised for a moment, but he figures it out immediately as I rush towards him. He starts running, trying to go around the crosswalk, so I briefly bring upon some of the crosswalk and give myself a burst to my sprint. “I timed your slapping intervals, so I can use my ability at full capacity while coming for you,” I tell him as I close in the distance, “this isn’t my first fight Francesco!”. His face goes into surprise, trying to hit me in the face, which goes scraping by as I go low by covering my back with the stripes, then, with a fist faked towards his stomach, I punch him in the chest by allowing the white stripes to control my movement instead of relying on my own muscles. His white spot moved almost as a self aware portion of his body up when he realised my intent in the split second, but it wasn’t fast enough, and his chest is now crashing a bit inside, as he goes flying towards one of the space’s walls.
I can’t allow him to recover, so I rush tow-*SHIINNG* a sound pierces all around, on top of his left hip… a layered white spot?! “Apolo-*cough*gies Christian,” he can’t stand up, but he still slaps his dick around by moving his hips and scraping his bottom on the harsh ground. “I was trying to recruit you, but now I realise, *cough* just how much of a problem you can pose to Boss,” *SHIINNG* he does the same movement, this time on both sides, what does that do th-*slip* I fall down, how?!.
Looking below me, I can see the crosswalk stripes acting strange, shaking and going up and down like tentacles of a struggling, dying creature. “I don’t have much time before I faint, so this ought to end fast,” so it would seem.
“Well, if that’s the case,” I simply let down the space, his face going into the shock of realization. “Then I figure you should barely have any strength remaining,” his back falls on the ground as the wall disappears, no longer sustaining his weight. “Maybe into your countless battles that you have over me, you should’ve learned when to retreat too, because I certainly learned that the hardway.”. With the anticlimactic ending, I go over his body as I can hear some whispers coming from him.
“You’ve played *cough* well kid. You have an innate talent for this, *cough*. I’m sorry I can’t hold my promise, you were too strong for your own good,” shit. He’s right, I should’ve been more careful. “I will tell you thi*cough*s much. Nataelo doesn’t give a shit about me or the others. Don*cough*t try anything funny, because he won’t care and you will look like an asshole,” I didn’t know these gangsters have such dignity, but I can’t say anything back to him. He could be saying this to not cause further trouble for Nataelo, yet he doesn’t seem dishonest. It might be his sweet green eyes, or his slick moustache *slap*, whatever it is, I guess I will have to keep moving forward wihtout him. *Grasp* “Kid, don’t fight him, no matter what. If you *cough cough* think it will be as easy, it won’t. *Cough cough* his ability is just-” he lets go of my hand as blood starts to come out of his mouth. I put him on his side to not let him drown in it, seems to help.
5 minutes later
I called boss, report back at him. He sent some of his men to take care of Francesco, so at least I won’t have to deal with killing a man. Too bad they had to take him naked, that man didn’t deserve such disgrace, but I need his suit to blend in with the others, mine barely did the trick. I kept my lube and phone, the belt feels useless when I think about it. And here I am, the playground. I can see all sorts of people, some standing out like artists trying to express themselves in a crowd of normal people. Donatello and Amarinio, I don’t know which is which, but given the stark contrast between the different groups in here, it’s safe to assume they’re present.
I make my way through, going to where Francesco’s people are at. They don’t seem to be worried about their leader not returning, so this meeting must be that much more important. I try to hunch over, so I don’t stand out too much, but even so, I’m still taller than most of them. Some portions of the crowd seem to warm up, clapping their butt cheeks on one side, and slapping the dicks on the other. A weird simphony resonates across the playground, and I see some of them wearing… condoms, of course. Not something I want to ever look in my life at again, so I look over the booty clapper-they’re twerking, no, rather, they grind their ass on the ground. There seems to be some sort of competition amongst themselves, see who’s probably the most resilient or something similar.
“Who do you think is going to win?” I hear some whispers in a group to my left. They’re all wearing rough clothes and fake jewellery, so I guess I know them already. “Boss obviously, he never lost in his life,” one of them says. “What about 87?” another responds. “One fall doesn’t make you crawl, it makes you stronger. I bet he could beat that heathen,” the respect is in there, mixed with doubt and some religious belief. “But have you heard of their leader? He apparently clapped his cheeks so hard, the sound broke glass and he even crushed a table with a few claps of his cheeks,” another joins the discussion, bringing some outrageous rumours. “Those are made up stories, the guy is skinny as a shrimp, he doesn’t have the weight nor the muscles to pull that off,” the converted buff guy speaks, those that I have confronted making their way through.
“Both sides will bet on their leader, so we all will bet on Boss, is that clear?” finally, their leader shows up. He wears a ton of jewelery, all of it being fake and seems, for some reason, intended as such. “Now be quiet, Boss could show up at any moment and we don’t want to miss his song,” I can figure what that means.
“Yes sir Donatello,” I got one figured out. Donatello, he takes care of the betting it would seem, so maybe he takes care of other finances as well. Besides his fake jewlery, he also wears off brand clothes. Jeans that should, supposedly, be designer clothing, have the models all wrong, while his shoes are not even the same. He also wears a velvet jacket with large pockets, too large to actually make it seem legit. His body is tall and skinny, while his face seems hungry for some off brand cigars, having a wide jaw, a crooked nose and black eyes. His eyes look with greed everywhere, a dirty yellow in them, while his hair comes in curls below a two size too small hat.
“Alright you flaccid sorry excuses of a human being that you all are,” a small, well dressed man comes to the centre, the only empty portion in the massive crowd. “While the agreement was for Boss and the booty clapper loser,” some grunts and spits come out after his words, while Nataelo’s people remain silent, “to fight. “There is nothing to say that until Boss arrives, that we can’t have some fun of our own, is there?”. There seems to be a common agreement in the air with nods and small vocal sounds. “Good, that’s what we like to see. So how about this, let’s get some of our top slappers in here, and some of your clappers in here, what do you all say?”. They start clapping their cheeks and slap their dicks in agreement, making a sort of weird acclamation. Thankfully, I managed to stand low and out of anyone’s vision, so that I wouldn’t have to join this weird charade of dick and cheek slapping. The smell is not bad though, which is surprising, most of them either shave or have ornaments into their pubic hair, so at least that’s good.
“Mind if I go first, ey?!” a large, fat man makes his way through. The crowd behind him goes wild, calling him ‘the big slapper’. The little man agrees and money start flying through the air, as bets are being placed.
“Then I will be your opponent,” a dignified, muscular and lean man steps in. He wears a really fancy suit, something in its fabric making it glitter in the park lights. When he turns with his back at me, I can see he has his butt cheeks exposed, a special compartment made for it. I was wondering how one looking as lean and muscular as him could clap his cheeks, but seeing them, there is a sort of soft squishiness to them. I almost want to touch them, but I try to keep my urges to myself. Money start flying from the side he came from, and I almost go with the crowd, reaching for my wallet that isn’t there.
“Very well! These are our contestants! We will do a couple of the newer stuff, then the traditional fight can commence,” they are handed a long, red cloth. The big slapper ties it to his penis, while the dignified man around his waist. “I don’t have to explain this, but try to make as much noise while disrupting your opponent's own sounds! Got it?” I understand the rules and watch in anticipation as both men nod their heads. “Then… begin!”.163Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEP8y6KS0TA
