The Last Wish

21. Underdog and the Goner

The Sepulchre was in ruins.

James walked amidst the piles of dead men, his hands behind his back. The slay dogs were scouring the basement, in hunger of a living witness who would have potentially seen the hooded guy responsible for the destruction.

The club had been a monthly boon, the arena a lifetime worth fighters and money but now it was mere ashes. All the coke, enough for the American population, was looted or destroyed.

James climbed onto the arena. Zhen Ying, his hitman lay on the centre of the arena, three holes boring inside his chest, dry with blood. His eyes were wide open, of fear.

He crouched beside Ying's unmoving body, "you've got it bad, this time, Ying."

He examined his face, his neck searching for any injury but there was nothing susceptible. He concluded that there was no fight prior to his death with the exception of the bullets. The chaos and the dead men were another mystery, added to the mysterious murderer himself.

One of the slay dogs hurried to him and James looked up, "you might want to check this out, sir."

Calm and composed, James followed the slay dog through a couple corridors across the basement to the lounge room. He had never been to the Sepulchre before, and guessed the lounge room was where Ying stayed, with his hoes.

The lounge room made a decently large room, with a mini bar, a red leather couch opposite to the many small flat screen TVs and a huge one on the centre fixed to the wall.

He lighted a cigarette and sat on the couch, facing the television. One of the slay dogs pressed the red button on the remote control and all the televisions switched on simultaneously. The small screens showed footage of various parts of the club, the entrance, the dance floor, the many passages, the interior. But James' eyes were transfixed to the main television, it was focused on the arena.

There was a bulky guy, the size of Hulk, fighting a feeble guy and with two breaths he was already on the ground, Hulk standing on top of him. "Forward," James said and the motion was on fast forward. A minute hadn't passed before a hooded guy in black had Hulk on the ground, unconscious, and then there was Ying held at gunpoint.

"Stop," he said, tensed. He walked nearer to the screen, trying to get a clear view of the face behind the hood but it seemed the guy was wearing a mask beneath it. Fortunate for him. He held a Ruger Redhawk at Ying, as he stood stone cold. James didn't attempt to forward the video footage, knowing where it would end.

He stared at the hooded figure for a long time, trying to figure out the math. He was definitely not a past enmity of theirs, he wouldn't be alive to see the next day if it was so.

Who could he be? he thought.

He caught a glimpse of a blonde amongst the crowd, and immediately recognized the figure.

"Is that the Spencer girl?" he said.

"Yes, sir," one of the men replied.

"Where is she now?"

"Puebla in Mexico," a deep voice said, a huge figure emerging from the shadowed corridor. "She'll lead us to the boy."

He walked to the tv screen and stood next to James. James looked at him questioningly, clearly indicating that they had never met, till now.

"Hulk?" James asked, fascinated that the guy the hooded man had fought was still alive.

"The name's Stingray," he introduced himself, annoyed. "I'm hear to replace Ying."

James cocked his eyebrows, finding the situation clearly humorous. The veins on Hulk's neck were surfacing on top of his tattooed skin, he was angry. However, James wasn't affected by Hulk's bulky demeanor, he knew quite well who had the upper hand here.

"Who gave you the authority?" James said coolly, despite the immediate dislike he had over the underdog.

"I fought the guy on the screen," Stingray said.

"Why are you still alive?"

Stingray looked at him with question marks written all over his face.
"Because I bought myself in quite well on that day?" Stingray said.

James shook his head. He walked to the sofa and sat on it, one leg on top of the other. He took a blow from the cigarette before he started talking again. "You are wrong."

"How so?" Stingray challenged.

"A man who could bring down a whole arena wouldn't leave the underdog alive, ever," he mused, tapping the cigarette on the ash tray, "his motives, they are different."

Stingray appeared offended but stayed quiet, curious to know where it would end, and so were the slay dogs.

"He didn't want the money, the fame," James continued. "He wanted something big, something like...attention."

"Attention?" Stingray questioned, dubiously. His new master sounded dumber than a turkey.

"He killed Ying," James said, "to get our attention."

"I don't do theory good, at school nor now," Stingray said. "My game is in practicals."

"Find the girl," James said standing up.

"What would a feeble girl do anyway?" Stingray said, clearly annoyed of his first mission. "Except a few gucci heels and manicured fingers."

He grinned. James corked his gun angrily and pointed it at Stingray, his grin disappeared with fear replacing it.

"You listen to me, underdog," James barked, having lost his temper. "You do as I say or prepare to die."

Stingray nodded, "as per your wish, master."

James secured his gun before turning around to see the rest of the video footage. "Play it," he said.

The video started playing, Ying was shot thrice and the events continued.

"She'll lead us to the boy," James said.

"Now that sounds fun," Stingray said with renewed interest, "I've got to settle matters with him anyway."

James wasn't listening to him, he was busy watching the last seconds of the footage.

"You want him dead or alive?"

The hooded figure seemed to have finished his task in hand and turned around to leave the chaos. As if remembering something, he turned around. He was staring at the camera, at James and pointed the gun. It was almost like he knew that James would be watching the footage and released the trigger and the video went blank.

"How about," James replied to Stingray, his eyes transfixed to the blotched screen, "dead and alive?"