The Face: Tournament of Death, Chapter Fourteen

That night, Sam had arrived in the small inner city of the island at a late hour. Greeting him at the door was his own manager, the one that had hired him as the new foreman of the job. "Ah, Samuel, come, come! Sit down, have a drink. The ladies wil arrive in a few minutes..."

Sam raised one brow. "Ladies?" he wondered. But he took no mind of it, and sat down. Before him was a rather large table adequate for a large group of people. Upon the dinner table were elegant silverware, delicate pieces of china, as well as crystal wine glasses that glistened from the crystal lights of the chandelier above. Soon, the manager returned along with some very beautiful women, as well as some of his associates. "Ah, Sam, I would like you to meet our 'associates.' Friends, this is Sam, the new foreman!"

Sam greeted each with a smile and a handshake, but wondered which one of them was the boss. "Ah, may I ask which of you is the owner of the factory?" He inquired. Each of the party looked at one another, and the foreman spoke. "Ah, Sam, there has been a slight...detour in the boss' coming. You see, he intended to come, really! But he just had some pressing business affairs to take care of first."

"Now come, enjoy your time with us! This is Cho, a very 'special' lady." Sam, not wanting to spoil the evening for the guests that had come to dine with him, decided to do just that.

I had finally awaken without feeling at the dead of night, with lights turned off, alone in my room. It was as if I had come out of a deep sleep, or even a daze. "Wha...?" I said. I then tried to life myself up, but was met with aching pains that seared through my back as well as my legs. "Agh...oh yeah...I'm seriously injured." I said.

Forgetting past remembrances from the night before I slowly tried to get up. "My throat is parched..." I said to myself. Slowly, and struggling with great agony, I attempted to turn on the small lamplight on top of the bedside drawer. After it clicked, a sudden sight had startled me. "WHAH!" I cried, hands shaking wildly about, but yet again coarsing with great pain. Before me was the leapord skin-wearing Hunteress, who had seemingly been standing above me for the whole time.
"Wha...what are you doing here?" I asked, still wearing the Golden-Yellow uniform for the tournament.

"You're late," she said, spearing her stick into the ground. "I don't like people who are late. But, seeing as to how you've gone through enough punishment...I'll have some sympathy for you."

I had a sudden memory rush like the many I've had before, remembrances filling my head once again like a raging flood. "Oh yeah...the investigation..." I said. I tried moving off the bed, but still, pain flowed through my veins. "Agh...I don't even think I can walk," I said to her.

"I figured so. But I've taken care of that..." she said, whipping what looked like a bamboo cane from behind her. She tossed it toward me, and it landed beside. "What's this?" I wondered. She flipped her hair back. "It's a genuine rattan combat cane. It's durable, light, and can hook your opponents, tripping them to their untimely defeat. I got it from the weapons storage. Oh yeah, and it'll help you walk too."

"I'm so thankful..." I mused. I hobbled to my feet and began to attempt to walk. It was difficult and painful, but I managed to bear it. She stared while I slowly moved about like an elderly tortoise. "What?" I asked. "You're not wearing that, are you? People will recognize you. You need a disguise..."

"Oh yeah...I got that covered," I told her. "Just sit tight, and we'll be outta here in no time flat..." How wrong I was. It took me quite a while to change, for the pain kept flowing through me like a bubbling brook.

Hunteress tapped her impatient foot rapidly upon the ground, sighing at the long wait. After many minutes, I re-emerged in my traditional attire of a trenchcoat, gray gloves, and gray hat, and some dark gray pants, and a casual light gray t-shirt. Ah, yes, and I couldn't forget my...faceless mask. The Face was back in action...with a Combat Cane.

She stared blankly at the costume that I wore. "Uh, what exactly is that?" She wondered, giving me a perplexing look about her face. I hobbled forward with my new combat cane and began, "Hunteress, meet the Face. The alter-ego of myself. The crime-fighter who solves crimes by using his ultra perceptive journalistic investigative skills and wins the day for heroes everywhere." I bowed down to the ground.

Sighing in shamefulness, she shook her head. "You definitely need a new personality. You're not intimidating at all," she criticized. I looked upward, without moving my back or neck. "What?" I said. But her rant continued. "And that mask, can you even see through that thing?" She further questioned. I replied, still without lifting myself upward. I raised my aching arm and pointed a finger at her. "You listen here, lady. You worry about your own hide," I threatened, with brandishing fist and lowered back.

She sighed and rolled her eyes at me. "Let's just get this over with, ok? I guess you'll be competent enough to take care of yourself..."
But I stopped her with one arm before she left and I spoke. "One problem..." I began. She turned back and sighed. "What is it?" I inched my feet forward. "I'm stuck, could you give me a hand?" The Hunteress shook her head in disbelief and sighed once more perturbed. She helped my back regain its alignment, and we were out the door, beginning our elusive investigation.

Back at the dining room, Sam was very much enjoying himself in the company of others, as he danced around the room drunk with wine and laughing heartily. "Ah, Sam, come on, show us your great strength once more! Buahaa!" The manager urged. Sam obeyed and cut a large stack of bamboo with his bare hand.

After many hours of singing songs, dancing with friends, and chasing around Cho, Sam finally fell unconscious at the dead of night in a room above the dining room, completely forgetting about his other home...