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The Face: Tournament of Death, Chapter Eight
Hours toiled away at the seemingly blight passage of the boat, except for the ongoing whimsical rants of the bemused young girl who yearned for worldwide greatness. I sighed in slight temperament at the great conundrum that I had fallen into. After much energy-output, the young girl finally seemed to calm down, and stood against the rail of the boat with a great breath of aspiration.
“I’m going to be the greatest one day…” she said enchantingly. I looked upon the passing waves and the blue sky that was held up above us like a thick blanket in which the sun’s bright light burned through. The air was nice, fresh, brisk, like that of the scent of recently washed springtime laundry. Panda too propped her large mass of connecting limbs onto the rail, with tongue hanging out like a panting, playful dog.
“This tournament’s gonna be great…one of the highlights of my career,” Taoyu explained to me in her genuine tone. She shuffled her feet upon the ground and looked toward me. “So, what style will you be using in the tournament?” she wondered. I looked at her in utter perplexity. I had no learned style or technique, and that thought razed through my mind like a piece of glass. “Hmm, style?” I wondered. Hearing this, she turned to me with a disapproving look. “Yes, style…don’t you have one…for the tournament?” I put a finger to my cheek and hesitantly brought thoughts to language. “Well…you see, I don’t exactly understand what you mean by style…but I was trained in the Art of Self Defense…Online!” I elucidated. I was surprised to see a smile materialize on Taoyu’s face. She slapped me on the head as if I were some sort of bungling oaf. “Silly reporter, that’s no style…now really, what do you know?” She asked. Fearing yet another blow to the head, I carefully and reluctantly spoke. “That’s…the truth.” I said, shielding myself. She frowned in misunderstanding. “How can you enter this tournament and not be trained under a specific martial arts style!?” She chastened. I shook my head. “I’m just a journalist, miss! I don’t actually fight…”
Taoyu held her hand upon her forehead in shame, “This is not good…why did you sign up for this tournament then?” She forgetfully asked. I lowered my eyebrow. “I believe you were the one who did that…” I reminded her. She put a finger to her lip. “Oh…heh, right,” she remembered. “But still, I thought all reporters new martial arts…at least in China…” she continued. “I’m not sure about that…” I said. “But that sure isn’t how it is in America…but oh, if it were…” I imagined.
“But it’s no problem, I can defend myself with my secret weapon,” I conveyed. I then reached into my pocket, retrieving my trusty cellular phone. “This is a taser mode cell phone,” I told her. Taoyu gasped in disbelief. “Oh no, no, no. No guns are allowed on the island…” she informed. I spoke, while shaking my finger before her. “No, no, no,” I said. “This is different. It’s a taser…See? Taser… It’s not a gun, and it doesn’t kill people…at least, the chance is very low,” I explained, flipping it open. Panda, intrigued by the wireless contraption began examining it slowly. “How does it work?” Taoyu asked ingenuously, unknowing of the consequences. “Well, you see, you press this button here…” I showed her the button, but she interrupted. “Oh, no! Don’t do that!” she warned. But I soon followed, “Don’t worry, it’s locked right now, so it won’t activate…” so I demonstrated the action by pressing the ‘Send’ button, which, was to my surprise yet again a big mistake.
A flurry of electric current fluttered its way to the body of the investigative Panda, who was the closest to the infernal device. The Panda propped on her hind legs and began convulsing wildly, arms flailing in air. “Oops,” I said. Taoyu gasped at the sight. “Panda! Are you alright?” she asked comfortingly. But Panda would not listen, she was seemingly caught in a hypnotic fit of rage. “Gah!” I screamed, as she swiped her gargantuan paw at my face. I ducked in time, but the rampage did not end there.
Panda soon twirled around as if she were in a trance, swiping at anything that blocked her path. Crates and Luggage were flung all across the boat, as she made her way across the deck, roaring like a tyrannosaurus rex. A sailor was swabbing the deck when suddenly he saw the panda approach him. “AAAAAH!” He cried ecstatically, being picked up and thrown into the watery depths. It was a disaster, Panda continued to strike unerringly at the blameless sailors, each one being mercilessly flung from their posts down into the sea without a life preserve. I stood, mouth-gaped once again, at the catastrophic scene before me.
“You really did it this time,” Taoyu said to me. “This isn’t the first…” I told her. We sat on the deck, facing away from Panda, as we waited for her undying rage to quell into quietness once again.
After the brief catastrophic event, we finally arrived at the island by 3:37 pm. A small band of foreigners greeted us as we left the lugsail. “Ah, the second shipment of contestants has arrived,” a sturdy, yet sharp voice said to us. “Welcome, to the Hanoi Islands…” The man said. He had a dark red scar protruding through his skin beside his lips on his right cheek. “My name is Huoreh,” he continued, though he did not look Chinese at all. In fact, he had long, brown, curly hair that reached just above his neck. He also had a black eye patch upon his right eye.
“Nice eye patch, Mr. Huoreh!” Taoyu said, greeting him with a handshake. “Did you get your eye gouged in an epic battle!?” she wondered, inquisitively. I grabbed her by the shoulder and shook my head. “I’m sure he doesn’t have time to explain things in detail,” I clarified to her. “Yes,” Huoreh interrupted. “I did, and you can see by my existing here that I was the one who survived. I wish I could say the same for my opponent…” He motioned us to follow him. “Come,” he said. “You are just in time for the festivities that will be taking place. Our attendants will tend to your luggage, and show you your rooms later.” We began up a long, winding hill, that led to a large dojo which assumed itself as the vision of an opulent palace, walled with fortified embellished concrete that could be seen for miles.
Once entering the large gate, a flurry of human activity flooded my vision. Literally hundreds of young disciples were training under the martial arts and scattered about the entire area. Each wore a white kung fu robe, and were practicing various techniques of the martial arts. “Wow,” Taoyu said. “Just think, we’re gonna be facing them!” She yearned excitedly, tugging my arm. I gulped in anxiety as I witnessed the unrelenting force, yet controllability of each of the established warriors. “I’m doomed…” I said, head drooping.
Soon we had entered a large room, full of bountiful entertainers, servants, and servers, as well as an enthroned man with long black hair, wearing an entirely black suit, sporting a makeshift metal hand. Dozens of women were fluttering about in their wealthy, silken Chinese attire. Belly dancers roamed the room, performing their hypnotic dances that ensnared the visual senses, and two sumo wrestlers were in the middle of a stage, battling it out on a platform in front of the enthroned master. Jugglers, clowns, and acrobats were there as well, performing various stunts and acts that rivaled that of the great Cirque de Soleil.
I could see many of tournament entrants as well, for they stood out among the fascinatingly dressed women and men that littered the entire room.
Joseph Bell sat next to D, who was busily trying to find something to eat. “So, what’s going on, Devon?” he asked. “I’m just trying to find something I can keep down,” he said, as his eyes struggled to envision the raw squid that seemed to squiggle around in its very dish right before his eyes.
Kristy Collumbo stood leaning against a red pillar, smoking a long cigarette. A few others could be seen sitting around as well, and a dark skinned man downed what looked to be small pieces of hotdogs.
A servant dressed in a flowery Chinese robe, set a dish before me, containing the same small hotdogs that the dark-skinned man had devoured. “Hmm, why not?” I asked myself, picking up a few pieces. However, Taoyu grabbed my moving arm. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you…if you are truly from America,” she warned. I did not understand. “Why not?” I wondered. She shed light on my current situation, “That’s marinated duck tongue, and if I know you, you probably wouldn’t want to be eating tongue right now…”
“Agh!” I cried, throwing the marinated duck tongue on the ground. “Thanks,” I said to her, wiping my hands upon my shirt. “I’ll be careful of what I pick up from now on…”
Some soundly invigorating cultural music was playing through my ears, and I absorbed the various notes that had been immune to me for so long. A shrill, commanding voice could be heard interrupting my listening. The music died down, and all entertainers came to a halt. “Ah, I want to thank you all for coming to my tournament,” it said. “As you may have noticed, I am Shran Kazuma, holder and operator of the island, and the Iron Clad Muscle Tournament.” The many people began to clap at this remark, and I along with the rest of the fighters clapped along too. Shran continued. “We welcome your stay, and hope you are adequately prepared to undergo the great physical tasks set before you. The tournament starts tomorrow…but today, we celebrate!” Shran looked toward one of the servants that was standing near his throne and commanded him. He whispered something to him in Chinese, and the servant responsively went to the back room.
Soon, he came back with three beautiful young Chinese women, wearing much more fascinating, and brightly radiant clothing than the others. And yet, there was another who came out of the back room… a young woman with blond, flowing hair, who wore a leopard-skin outfit along with leather ankle and wristbands. Upon her back was a small blowgun, the kind that Africans used as a hunting tool, and she had a gold-plated tiger mask upon her face, with beautiful blue eyes showing through. I was greatly intrigued by the woman, not only because of her accentuating beauty, but also because the woman behind the golden mask looked quite familiar as well. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but it seemed as though that I had seen or met her before…
Each woman seemed to perform some type of ceremonial induction procedure by the use of small darts and fruit tossed into the air. As one man in the group, randomly placed about the room, threw a type of fruit in the air, each woman nailed each dart into the dead-center of their targets, which in turn dropped into hands below.
A man sitting next to me at a small table, threw a pear up into the air, as the blonde woman took her turn to participate. She spotted me in the crowd and seemed to frown upon eye contact, as if she recognized me, but was not entirely positive. She continued her ceremonial duties nevertheless after slight hesitation. She held her blow gun to her pink-painted mouth, and blew into the hole, sending a sharp dart straight through the middle of the pear, protruding even to the back of it. It, coincidentally, dropped into my lap, and I removed the dart from the pierced fruit. I felt the tip of the dart to see how lethal it was. “Hmm…pretty darn sharp,” I said to myself. Taoyu interrupted as well, with Panda loyally right beside her. “It’s a good thing you didn’t get stuck with that thing…” she said. And she was right, but my thoughts were racing in wonderment about the hidden countenance of this very lethal, intriguing young woman…
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