Bamp.
5. DONT LEAVE ME HANGING BRO
Dawn approaches. He knows this, his body knows this, the alarm will catch on in a few minutes. He wakes up every day at the same time, just before his alarm does. Dust floats high in the ceiling, illuminated by the morning sky that edges ever closer. His bed was occupated by only one. His hair in a tangle, deep crimson sheets lightly covered his body. Standing up, he walks over to the high window to watch the streets below change in an instant. Every night it makes the same transition from a cockroach here and a civilian there to cars in every niche, crack and hole they could find. Brawl City was only just taking it's first steps but it had soon become a metropolis of it's very own.
He heard the alarm ring out 5 times as the household computer's voice seeped into existance. "Good morning Fiver, it looks like another fine day."
"I see. Thank you Ivan." The alarm clicked over to late-night/early-morning jazz and he smiled as he turned to face the singing box. 5 minutes to 6 o'clock.
Fiver popped open the window to feel the morning breeze as he walked into the nearby closet to wrap himself in a lushious blue robe. The silk rubbed against his flawless skin as he lowered himself down the steps; 25 in total. He made his way through the high-walled rooms to his kitchen and prepared himself a healthy breakfast. 2 eggs, 3 slices of bacon and a small helping of toast. 5 slices each lightly slapped with a dose of butter. He produced a remote from a pocket and tapped a button before sliding it back. The music from earlier now wafted through the mansion; waking up anything dormant inside. The sounds of machines whirred silently below the music.
Wandering back to his bedside view of the city, eating at his own leisure, he couldn't help but smile at the pitter patter of feet below him.
So young.. so naive.. His thoughts were cut short as the soulful sounds of Beethoven's 5th sang out from his other pocket.
[click]
"You're up early today, Waiver."
A chuckle from the other end; "You're one to talk Fiver. You wake up at the crack of dawn every day." Fiver paused to reflect as Waiver continued, "Before you ask, I had to call you before I get started today; I'm going to be very busy. Would you mind meeting me in my office?"
"When will you be finished?"
"Around 4, maybe half past."
"I'll see you at 5."
Another chuckle. "I thought so. I'll see you then." [click]
Sliding the phone back into his pocket, his view back to the battered streets below, he sighed.
I wonder what he wants.. He pushed the thought aside as he called out to Ivan for a shower to be prepared, and made his way to the bathroom.
Waiver's morning wasn't much different to Fiver's. He woke to the mixed sounds of Mozart playing through his radio, yells from the butcher's across the street and the purring of the feline beside him. "Morning Kim." She purred groggily in response. He pulled his legs to the side of his bed, and fumbled his hands on the desk for his universal remote. He felt plastic and pulled it to his side and rubbed his eyes.
I gotta stop working so late..Waiver's profession was bank manager. However, unlike other branch, his felt the need to get to know every customer; a staff member would come and talk to every client in person to find out what would work best. Their friendly smiles, their persistance to make things work and the sheer quality of work made Waiver's bank a public success. He became a respected person among the bigwigs of Brawl City. He had funded the initial central suburbs of Brawl City, now thriving as the business district. Most people didn't even know about him, possibly a good thing.
Standing up, he wasted no time as he dressed himself in a myriad of cloth. He picked up his briefcase and headed out. A few short halls later he approached the garage and felt the cold morning air. He reached back for his overcoat and walked towards the limo. His chauffeur stood patiently with the door opened and Waiver offered his thanks as he entered. "It isn't a problem sir, just doing my job."
"And a fine job of it you do. To Main Hall, please."
"Right away sir."
The engine started and the two set off. Waiver's mansion was situated on the Far East District of Brawl City; a fair distance from the Central District. The distance gave him time to think about some matters he had heard about. Most pressing was the ban given to the brawler known as McJesus. Waiver wasn't directly involved with the decision, but his status gave him knowledge of such matters. The arena was most definately damaged beyond repair, that much was true. He had seen the wreckage himself as he had funded the project himself.. initially.
The power-sapping technology used was made public.. perhaps it's downfall. But it had to be, that was the purpose of the Arena. It was to give the Brawlers the oppurtunity to showcase their true merits in battle. To see how they could handle without their powers.. Had McJesus destroyed the apparatus to save himself? Perhaps he wasn't as strong as they say he is.. or is something deeper at hand?
Waiver hadn't even heard of McJesus until a few months ago. He only knew of a handful of Brawlers, Fiver included, so he wasn't too aware of how they acted. Infact the majority of the population didn't know who was a Brawler these days. Many of them looked like ordinary civilians, only a few wore anything out of the ordinary and almost none of them wore any tights.
What ever happened to wearing tights..He turned to look out the window and saw a couple walking the streets, the girl hanging onto his arm affectionately. He couldn't help but think of..
"Sir? We're at Main Hall."
The driver startled Waiver out of his thoughts, but he quickly regained his composure and got out of the vehicle, walking over to the passenger-side window. "Park nearby and keep your phone on. I won't be finished until around half past 5, but you know how it is."
"Very well." replied the driver, and drove off as Waiver looked back to find the couple. Unable to find them, he made his way inside the magestic building, carved from stone to replicate the old Earthly architecture. These days it was hard to find anything that wasn't as smooth as a baby's bottom. "Hey Waiver!" Still no time to rest his mind. "We need you up on the bridge, something weird is going down!"
"What's the problem?" The boy who approached him looked cleancut, couldn't have been older than 17. An intern perhaps?
"No time! I'll tell you on the way!" the boy started off towards the bridge.
Waiver sighed and ran off after the boy.
Another day at Main Hall..It was roughly 6:30 by now, and Fiver had begun his own trek, to the slums in the West District. His rusted beaten Davidson was in stark contrast to his counterparts sleek and chic lifestyle. Nevertheless, he was comfortable seated in the ripped and torn interior of this decrepit vehicle. In the Brawl era, the most expensive and luxurious cars were those imported from Earth, due to the cost and effort to transport your transport. Fiver himself had several of these in his possession, but almost always opted to take these rustbuckets to conceal himself. After all, nothing could compare or elevate his beauty, why bother trying to have a car to match? Those pitiful citizens wouldn't appreciate it regardless.
A typical drive through Brawl City would give you a variety of scenery to look at, you seldom went a day without hearing, seeing or evading a fight between the ill-famed Brawlers, and the twisted individuals without powers seemed to make it all the worse. Crimes ran rampant in certain districts and law enforcement had little effect. Fiver was passing through one of these areas. His car coasted along, as he eyed out the beady eyes of civilians sitting on their porches, the hoods of their cars and perched on crumbling buildings. The slums were just as welcoming as he remembered them.
Fiver eyed a streetlight hanging by wires turn crimson and eased his vehicle to a stop. As the vehicle lay idling, he took a look in the rear view mirror and saw a group of 6 men walking up to his vehicle from behind. A crash appeared ahead of his vehicle. Turning his vision back to the light, Fiver found it disconnected and laid in pieces. His hand reached for the doorhandle and stepped out calmly. He eyed down the men.. each one more hideous than the last. Noses large, eyes dug into their heads, ears too large or too small.. but the man who trailed behind looked far better. Infact, he wasn't ugly at all to Fiver's surprise.
The group circled Fiver and the largest of the 6 stepped forward. Possibly the leader. "Yo man, whatchoo doin in a place like this? We dun like yo kind here. You best amscray boy."
"I think you should leave."
"Hahaha! You're a punk, yuh know that? Jimal, give 'im a lesson 'e wont soon fuhget."
The man to the left of the leader revealed a crowbar and slowly advanced towards Fiver. Fiver's mind flashed back to a conversation with a man with terribly scruffy hair and a decaying suit. Those were the asylum days. It was old and decrepit much like most people there, and the ones who weren't nailed to the floor were often left to fend for themselves for days at a time. There were rarely anyone brave enough to care for the group and so they all had to help each other.
Fiver was sitting alone at a table, unsure of anything in his life anymore. He stared out the window at the foggy grey sky when he heard a dusty voice beside him, "What're you in f-for?" He turned to face the scruffy man, who appeared to be stuck inside a straightjacket, but his hands seemed to move freely inside. His skin looked horridly pale, and Fiver couldnt even see his face through his thick hair.
How long had he stayed like this? Fiver had behaved his entire stay and was thus allowed to not need restraints. The scruffy man was clearly worse off than him.
"I don't know.. I was just sitting in my room when those guards came and took me away. I wish they'd sort this all out already."
The scruffy man chuckled. "I can tell what you're thinking.. you think I'm alot worse off than you.."
Fiver jumped to his feet and started yelling, "LOOK AT MY FACE! JUST LOOK AT IT! DON'T YOU EVER SPEAK LIKE THAT TO A FACE LIKE THIS AGAIN!" He was breathing heavily, his hair out of place and his posture bent.
The scruffy man simply smiled, "When did this start?"
Fiver stood still for a moment, and composed himself. He thought back to when he was a wee lad, and he found himself standing infront of a mirror. He was fixing his hair like a good little boy to please his dear mother, singing 5 little pigs to himself.. when it clicked. He stopped brushing hair and leaned forward, looking closer at his face in the mirror..
w-was that me? Is that my face? I-it's.. I l-look..Fiver snapped back to reality. Gone was his younger self infront of a mirror, gone was the scruffy man wrapped in white. All that Fiver could see now were the 5 bleeding bodies surrounding his car, the trunk of which was open. He looked in his hands to find the bloodied crowbar one of those men held earlier. He heard a yell from the car and walked over to it to find the 6th man bound and breathing heavily. "P-please mister.." Fiver waited a moment, looking at his face for a last time before closing the trunk, and got back in his car. He turned his car around to face where he came.
I don't like those flashbacks.Pulling his car into 1st, Fiver headed back to his own home when a flash of orange light raced past him, shaking the car violently. Newspapers and a civilian or two were pulled in it's backdraft. He almost ran his car into a brick wall.
What is that guy's problem? Fiver shook it off and headed back, hopefully without incident. He turned on the radio to drown out the screams coming from the trunk.