The Face: Tournament of Death, Chapter Eighteen

Rajan sat undisturbed, yet widely awake upon the corner of his bed from which he could not receive slumber. "I...I can't take this anymore." He stood up and looked about his lavishly decorated room. "I cannot just stand idly by and let that...that...murderer lounge around on some sort of free vacation!" He thought to himself, witholding his fist up high.

He then treaded out the room with stout vigor and slammed the door shut behind him.

A few doors down the hall, the Jaguar knocked, receiving no answer. A few times more he persistently pecked at the wooden door gently with his fist, but with a resounding resolve.

A loud groan could be heard between his ears as the ruffle of bedsheets accompanied the noise. "Hey, dipstick! Don't you know I'm sleepin'!" The angry voice cried aloud.

Rajan stood silently, inhaling deeply a breath of air, and continued once again to knock. Angry and thoroughly perturbed, the occupant furiously freed himself from his sleep and trudged blandly to the door.

He thrust the door open with his immensely large hands, and spat ferociously at his unwanted visitor, "You idjit! I told you....Gwah!" The large, dark-skinned Barduk was sent reeling backward, as a painful gash was sent upon his nose, and he beheld it as he struggled to retaliate.

"You killed my greatest mentor, the Steel Jaguar. You have no remorse, you even went on to commit more murderous acts, and you have no regrets. Well, then, I regret to inform you that this will be your last stand!" Jaguar explained, pouncing upon the gargantuan man with elbow bent backwards and ready to strike.

But before the Jaguar struck, Barduk used his large arm to take hold of the Jaguar's, and he lifted him aloft, with feet above the ground. "You done and made Barduk mad now!" The monstrous man angrily bellowed, thrusting the Jaguar against the cabinet wall, destroying priceless pieces of china as well as crystal glasses and splintering wood.

In the large, open office of Shran Kazuma sat Devin Bowen, carelessly in front of the oak desk that the stately Shran sat behind.

Shadow rubbed his fist against his hand, and stood up. "Y'know, I can't believe you'd accuse me of trying to wander around this dump. What you worried about anyway? What are you trying to hide?" he asked.

Shran put his feet upon his desk and touched his fingers to their metal counterparts. "Hmm, alright then. I believe, since you are quite the accomplished fighter, and that you do show some promise, I'll let you in on our plans... You see, we here at the Hanoi Islands mass produce and yes, export so called enhanced 'medicinal products' to the outer regions of the Chinese Empire. As you know, China is growing country. In ten years, we will become a great threat to your United States. However, I would never pass the chance of achieving great power. And the money funded from this 'operation' will help me to build a great empire. In addition, I hold such tournaments to enable me to train and pass my deadly arts to those of the greatest fighters, such as yourself and others like my bodyguard Huoreh. For soon, I will be able to make an army that will be able to take over China at its peak, thus becoming the most powerful nation in the entire world."

"Are you crazy!? Ain't no way you and your band of martial artists gonna be able to take an entire Chinese Army," Bowen contested. Shran smirked as if he were in disillusionment to Devin. "Ignorant young fellow, you have no idea of the great depths of my power. With all the money that I possess in my hands, figuratively speaking, right now, I could buy out all the most sophisticated weaponry in the entire world...which is what I have already begun! Ebay has great prices and advanced machinery! Wahaha!"

Devin raised a brow. "What about those martial artists...why would you need them?" he wondered. Shran paced toward Devin and waved out his hands. "Well, you see, having an army of assassins should come handy in diplomatic affairs, my friend. No one would suspect an unarmed fellow to be so deadly with the hands. Without world leaders, who would the country go to for help? Me, of course."

Devin frowned in disgust. "Shran, suddenly I wish to leave your island," he demanded. Shran crept closer. "It is not possible..." he darkly replied.

"That's bull, Mr. Shran Man," he darkly spat back. But suddenly, without warning, Devin could feel a piercing sensation from his gut, which continued to send sharp pains throughout his abdominal area. Like a streak of light, Shran had buried his metal fingers in Shadow's stomach with great force.

In a matter of moments, Shran released his limb and let Shadow lean backward. He struggled and groaned in agony as he looked at his deepened, bleeding wound. He clutched his stomach with one hand and raised his fist with the other.

"Stupid boy," Shran said disgustingly. "I'll let you rot in the cells below, so you can re-think your foolish decision. You are a great fighter, and my deadly arts would be a great asset to you, my friend. If only you would be more willing. You would be a great apprentice. I could of killed you with my deadly touch of death. But no, I shall have mercy on you. Maybe you will finally understand what it is to have true power..."

Shran turned around, and smoked his pipe, staring at the swaying palm trees outside on the sandy beach in the distance. But with one swift motion, he struck Devin down without warning, as his elbow smashed against the ailing young fighter's face.

His female servants then took the unconscious body away.

Shran calmly walked out of his office next to where his faithful messenger stood awaiting orders. "Messenger," Shran commanded. "Make sure to find the one woman who escaped from my office earlier. I want to see if she has changed her mind about being one of my own. If not...get the torture chamber ready, she can be brainwashed into thinking clearly. The drugs should do the trick, yes...the drugs should do it." The messenger stood, with eyes wide in attentiveness, nodding repeatedly. Shran looked at the man, then struck the wall beside him with great force. "Well, what are you waiting for!? Get to it!"

And the messenger fled like a frightened little pup into the distance, eager to do his master's work.