Vivid Memories

[Max Dirks]

Silence Sei and I would like to offer you all a treat: our ultimate second battle once thought to be lost amongst the crash. Here it is in all its glory for your reading pleasure...

(Dirks v Sei - The Rematch)

Even though the flamboyant tapestries that usually adorned the walls had been removed and the warming candlelight was hidden under an unusual blanket of smoke, the tavern still easily recognizable as the Peaceful Promenade of Underwood. The gray skies and pouring rain outside had brought a few extra patrons through the doors for the day, but overall, the tavern's activity had remained relatively low. The tavern was quiet and tranquil. It was the perfect day for the criminal, Max Dirks, to drown his uncertainties in a bottomless bottle of alcohol.

The alcohol had a passive effect on Dirks. He was neither sober, nor was he drunk. He had arrived at a place between the two: a place where the tavern was devoid of all color. The tavern was matted in a palette of different shades of gray, almost like he was trapped within a shadow; or a memory. Dirks was held captive within his own thoughts, completely unmindful of the activity of the tavern.

For the longest time, Dirks was obsessed with controlling the world. The goal was so absurd that even he knew that he could never achieve it. It provided an endless challenge that would most certainly keep him satisfied for his entire tenure in Althanas. But now he almost felt like he had come as close as he possibly could to his goal. He had manipulated the masses, which is far more than any other could claim. The challenge had escaped him, and like so many times before, Dirks was devoid of all purpose in his life. His current ventures had slowly fallen to obligation and the once uncommon act of drinking had become his new pastime.

Dirks took another drink of his alcohol and then set the bottle down. The criminal had spent the entire night at the table in the corner of the Promenade drinking to a deeper depression. With his mind so deluded, he took no notice when his head slipped down onto the table and he fell into a conscious sleep.

[Silence Sei]

What was it that caused men to lust after women so out of their league? Why did people visit taverns so frequently, despite the pleas of the loved ones to do otherwise? Why did man falter so in times of need even though they still had the sheer ability and power to overcome an obstacle. The answer was as sure as the label that was placed on it; alcohol.

This substance made men believe they were Gods, that caused the most undesirable women to become beauties, and allowed even the mightiest of titans to fall. Such was the power of this drink, this depiction of menÃ*s hopes and dreams, sealed tightly into a bottle and waiting to be release. With the consumption of this fine delicacy, there were no limits to what one could do. Truly, alcohol was a present from the Gods to Althanas.

This was not the reason Sei Orlouge entered this tavern today.

Pulling at the arm of the mute, a small girl stomped her blue heels, and made mouse-like squeals and pleas for the telepath to release her. The mute would not yield to such whining today however, as he was here to teach this small girl a lesson. With the imagined abilities alcohol had granted a person also came grave consequences. Being poisoned due to consuming too much of the liquid, vomiting the night afterwards because you wished for a 'good time', the feelings in one's head that made it seem as it a thousand giants were river dancing, these were things Sei Orlouge wished to show his daughter.

The vampire looked to the bartender and nodded solemnly to the man. The server quickly removed a bottle from under the counter and placed it before the mystic, who quickly sat at the stool and placed his daughter in his lap. Placing a thumb beneath the bottle, Sei popped the top and shifted the drink to the girl, who grabbed it and drank it up. Upon swallowing some of the beverage, the girl quickly spit out the brown substance, the foam becoming apparent as it fizzled out on the counter top.

"This is root beer!" the girl exclaimed, almost as if she were disappointed. In reply, the vampire pointed to several people among the bar patrons, including a man who was passed out on a table. These people are addicted to the very stuff you have been drinking behind my back, the mute commented angrily, all of them at one time thought they could handle all the alcohol they wanted without consequence, but now it is controlling their life! The girl shifted her head around, noticing how many of the people were in slumps of depressions.

"Bu-But I use the holy water to clean my system out whenever I drink. It's just a funny feeling when I drink a lot of it, and I like it." Sei looked down with a still angry face at his daughter, placing her down on the floor. That is no excuse, and it appears as though I myself can not convince you. Why do you not go around and ask some of these men about when they first started their habit? The girl nodded and began her quest, going around asking for the stories of so many different men.

Sei meanwhile, turned to the bartender, grabbing the root beer Anita denied herself of and drinking some of it. Setting it down, the mute said two more words before he began to find himself in the cola once more. Soup please.

[Max Dirks]

Feelings of hatred and visions of abuse flooded Max Dirks' mind as he slept in the cold cage he had created for himself in the corner of the tavern. The memories brought no comfort to the criminal. They were different than valiant memories that he had forced to dominate his mind. The screams of agony and the pleas for mercy did not belong to those that Dirks had tortured or humiliated in the past. They belonged to him.

For a number of reasons, Dirks was unable to mask these hidden realities any longer. Fresh in his mind, the truths of his past placed new burdens upon his heart. It was clear to the criminal that the reason he always chose to humiliate his adversaries as opposed to killing them was because the same had been done to him ages ago. The rationality behind the greatest criminal in the history of Althanas was no more than a simple game of revenge. He punished others for what had been done to him. Dirks was no more unique than the rest of the patrons in the Promenade. He was just another cliche in a world that was full of them.

Only one part of Dirks was telling him that he was wrong: his heart. Somewhere deep down, a force was tugging at him. It pleaded with him to abandon his self pity and to embrace his jagged past. It called for him to create new goals and overcome new challenges. But, it was too late. The hole had been dug too deep and his depression was already rooted into his soul.

Even so, the tugging was relentless, and it began to co-habituate with his pity. The pull dragged him from his sleep and forced him into full consciousness. For a moment, Dirks almost convinced himself that he was in the process of overcoming his uncertainties, but then he realized what had happened. The tugging was not an emotional one, but a physical one. A small girl, no older than fourteen, was tugging at the back of his trench coat. The small feeling of accomplishment was quickly washed away by his mind and replaced with his familiar depression.

"Hey, hey Mister, wake up!" The girl cried into his ear. She continued to beckon him, only to be ignored by the criminal. He might have said something to the girl, if he hadn't suddenly been filled with something as familiar as the uncertainty that had enveloped him. It wasn't a feeling, but a thought. And it belonged to someone Dirks remembered vividly:

"Sei Orlouge."

(Use of Anita granted by Sei)

[Silence Sei]

ìSei OrlougeÖî

Anita reacted to the words said with shock. This was a person who knew of Sei, obviously, enough to identify the fact that he used telepathy in his own certain style. With the way he abruptly awakened to her tugging, the girl had been surprised that the man instantly identified her father in the crowd. Something about this man told Anita that he was important, a man who was a key role in something, though the girl could not pinpoint what. She knew one thing was for certain though, and that was that, at least to the child, this man gave off an aura that was remarkably close to that of Sei.

It was not so much the words that made the Sei himself shudder so much as the voice that had said it. The sound of the voice reminded Sei of an earlier time, when the mute was just getting his foot into the door of Althanas. This voice of the past was much more arrogant, one that would have tagged on some sort of witty line along with the uttering of the muteÃ*s name. This man, whom Sei had fought in round three of the Gisela Open, a round filled with giant robots of exercise and soldiers being turned into crash test dummies.

Max Dirks was a hero to Sei at one time, the man he admired more than anyone else. In fact, the only reason Sei advanced in both round one and two of the Gisela Open was because he had asked himself ëWWDD; What Would Dirks Do?Ã*. Sei had lost faith in his idol after actually engaging him in combat in an old factory. It was by far the hardest match Sei ever had to fight as far as coming to terms with himself went.

After advancing narrowly, the vampire had asked himself so many different questions. Why had he idolized this man in the first place? This person who would go through the trouble of humiliating his opponents for several minutes after he knew the battle was his? How could someone like Sei, a renowned hero among the Radasanth people, have idolized this arrogant and pompous man at one time and still gotten where he was today?

SeiÃ*s thoughts were broken as quickly as they had come when his soup had arrived. The mystic decided that as long as nothing was started, a fight would not break out. As such, the warrior quickly took the bowl with his only hand and began to drink the warm contents. After setting down the bowl, which was now half empty, the telepath turned to the man Anita was watching in awe. Smiling a bit arrogantly, Sei finally decided to reply to this man saying his name, by returning the gesture. ìMax DirksÖî

[Max Dirks]

The cloud of thoughts within DirksÃ* head began to finally take some form when the mystic returned his inquiry. Sei Orlouge was the salt in a freshly opened wound. Only once in his tenure in Althanas had Dirks ever been humiliated and it was Sei whoÃ*d had that pleasure. The events of the third round of the Gisela Open were among the memories that Dirks had buried under his infinite layers of arrogance. But, they too were freshly brought to the surface by his depression and the untimely appearance of the mystic.

Dirks was vulnerable. Emotion flowed freely through him like a river through a plain. There was no logic or sense in the world that could prevent the anger and resentment he felt for Sei Orlouge from rising through his veins. Fueled by anger, a rush of adrenaline flowed through DirksÃ* body as he stood from his chair. Dirks broke free of his solitude and marched towards the bar. With his sole focus on the mystic, he completely forgot about the girl who was watching the events unfold with amazement.

Sei was different than before. The naivety that once bred in his eyes was now replaced with the battle scared signs of experience. It was clear that both men had faced many toils in the year since their last encounter. But SeiÃ*s eyes were not the only indicator of his experiences. The mystic was missing an arm. From his right shoulder down there was nothing. ìI see youÃ*re missing an arm, Cherub. ItÃ*s a pity that someone else got to you before I could,î Dirks called out before taking another step forward.

The mystic was a bright light in a room full of dark grays and with this, Dirks objective became clear. Dirks never had the chance to payback those who had humiliated him before he arrived in Althanas. Sei was not only going to pay for his own crimes, but he was also going to pay for ALL the crimes that had been committed against Dirks. Sei was not going to be humiliated today, he was going to die. But even though Dirks was completely satisfied with his decision, a lump of uncertainty still hung in his throat.

[Silence Sei]

He approached calmly, not hinting at anything. Sei remained calm himself as he turned around, taking a sip of his soup. As Sei began to drink the warm substance, Dirks then decided to comment on the manÃ*s handicap, his missing right arm. Sei continued to drink his soup, closing his eyes as he finished the last bit. After setting the bowl back down, Sei wiped the remnants of the soup from his lips and arrogantly spoke into the manÃ*s mind.

ìyou face some hardships when you live for others instead of living to protect your name like some sort of underprivileged god.î At this the telepath opened his eyes and shifted his gaze over to his child. Though the warrior had to sacrifice his arm in order to obtain the treasure that was his little girl, he knew he would have made the sacrifice once more if given the opportunity.

Sei shifted his gaze to Dirks, his arrogant smile slipping into a serious stare now. It was obvious that Dirks was still sore about what had happened during the events of the Gisela Open. Sei did not wish to relive the experience by fighting the man again, especially not with Anita present as a liability. It did not seem like the mute had much of a choice though, and he merely shifted his left arm to his side, prepared for Anything Dirks might attempt.

Looking in the eyes of the man, Sei could tell that his opponent had changed greatly. Dirks had obviously seen several more adventures, as well as battles, since the two fought with their armies at Gisela. Seeing his own reflection in Dirks eyes, the telepath knew that his opponent was more than likely thinking the same thing about him. It seemed to be hours that the two looked at one another, at least to Sei, when in reality only seconds had ticked by.

The original fight between these two titans started off as a boy against his idol, an apprentice against his master, the squire against his knight. Now, after all the time that had passed, all the trials they had each faced, and all the people they had since met, it came down to this. They were reliving Gisela, only without the tanks, without the soldiers, and without the giant exercise robots. Sei had become a man, and Dirks had become a champion. There was no underdog in this encounter any more, just two men wishing to settle their differences here and now.

And, for a moment, it seemed as though the boy was once again fighting his idol.

[Max Dirks]

The Promenade slipped further and further away from reality as Max Dirks stared into the eyes of his greatest adversary. The tavern no longer served any drinks, nor did it hold any patrons. The wooden furniture that once adorned the PromenadeÃ*s interior had been worn and reduced to clutter. Bits of old tables and stools were littered across the tarnished floor. The bar was missing large pieces of wood, and the walls were home to an entire community of vermin. It was just as Dirks remembered, and like before, the rundown tavern would host to the greatest battle in the history of Althanas.

Moments decayed into eternities as Dirks watched the tavern transform. But just as he was becoming accustomed to the changes his mind had created, his full attention was redirected towards the mystic. Though clearly meant as a prudent reply, SeiÃ*s words left an appalling taste on DirksÃ* lips. How dare the mystic compare DirksÃ* struggles to a plea for attention? Sei could never understand the hardships that plagued the criminalÃ*s life, nor could he ever been expected to overcome them the way Dirks had. But the time for words had ended. The wit that had characterized their previous encounters would be replaced with action.

ìThen let me show you how vengeful an ëunderprivilegedÃ* god can be.î There was no pause between the words and DirksÃ* actions. He immediately broke towards the seated mystic, picking up a tattered stool on his approach. When he was within armÃ*s distance, Dirks slammed the stool forward, attempting to trap Sei against the bar with its legs. Pressing the stool firmly against the bar with his left hand Dirks then reached down to his belt and retrieved his steel dirk from its sheath. In one fluid movement, he brought the dirk into the air and swiped it across SeiÃ*s neck, clearly intending to slit the mysticÃ*s throat. The battle of the ages had begun, and Dirks couldnÃ*t have felt any better.

[Silence Sei]

They all began to disappear as the two stared one another down. The tender, the drunks, everyone, they seemed to fade from SeiÃ*s mind and leave only the two people who now mattered, Dirks and Anita. As Dirks talked, Sei brought his hand onto the bar, grabbing his soup bowl as he listened to the man, in a subtle manner that made it just seem as if the telepath was going for another drink. Almost near completion of DirksÃ* sentence, Sei shifted his gaze towards Anita, who had sat upon the table Dirks had previously been sitting at, and watching the green eyed man in curiosity.

Sei paid for checking up on his daughter, as a stool was quickly sent towards the muteÃ*s being. It forced the mystic out of his on seat, causing him to stand, his back against the bar and his chest against the stool. As the wooden seat pinned the mystic, he quickly raised his wooden soup bowl to his face, trying to protect his features from whatever harebrained scheme Dirks concocted. The mute had saved face, or rather neck, with this quick maneuver, as Dirks removed a dirk and attempted to find it across SeiÃ*s throat. All it found was the bowl Sei had finished drinking out of.

What little colors that had been within the bar disappeared, replaced with colors of flashback gray. The muteÃ*s attention focused back on his daughter, who had hopped off the table and was now looking at the two with her mouth agape. Sei hadnÃ*t told Anita of his encounter with the infamous Max Dirks, for he had hoped he had put such a rivalry behind him. Of course, it was now obvious that the mere sight of one another could rekindle the flames of abhorring that they both held.

Sei set his sights on Dirks once again, deciding to take the initiative before his rival could attempt to strike him again. Looking at Dirks eyes, Sei could see all of the pain and humiliation Dirks had suffered because of him. ìFrom controlling an army to trying to kill a one armed man,î Sei said as he raised his left leg, placing the heel of his foot against the bar, ìoh how the mighty have fallen.î To give exclamation to SeiÃ*s feelings about this fight, as he said the word ëfallenÃ*, his left leg was sent swinging forward, the tip of his black boot aiming towards DirksÃ* crotch.

It was not a very noble tactic, but Sei was not a very noble person. Sei never fought Dirks as a hero, he always fought the man as a rival who would do whatever it took to defeat the opposition. Besides, it was the best idea the mute had, his strategies disappearing as his own rage for Max Dirks built up, and came to surface once again. Provided that the kick to the groin connected, and Dirks dropped the stool as Sei would assume, the mystic would take the opportunity to sprit to the right of Dirks, and get at least a good ten feet between them. The battle of the ages had begun, and Sei Orlouge was ready to stain his hand once more.

[Max Dirks]

When his dirk met the hollow echo of the bowl that had been placed in the weaponsÃ* wake, another bridge collapsed in Max DirksÃ* mind. The criminal was instantly reminded of the harsh truths that haunted the rivalsÃ* pasts. The two warriors were far beyond honor in their encounters and to expect any would be suicide. Sei had escaped DirksÃ* wrath many times before with his quick wit and quirky escapades, but this time the criminal was prepared for even the most inane.

Given time to regain his position as Sei spoke, Dirks was prepared to counter attack when the mystic sprung into action. Instead of parrying the kick, Dirks slammed the head of the stool downwards, releasing Sei from his temporary prison. The ensuing collision with Sei's foot caused the stool to shatter into hundreds of pieces that were violently flung across the tavern floor. Still holding onto an intact portion of the stoolÃ*s leg, though, Dirks immediately turned and swung it around his body, attempting to catch the mystic in the back of the head.

Much to his dismay, Dirks was met only by air as Sei retreated a few feet past the criminal. Without slowing, and without hesitation, Dirks dropped the stool leg and approached the conniving mystic. Dirks brought up his dirk once more and threw the small weapon at SeiÃ*s right thigh on his advance. Even though he was devoid of most logic in his current state, Dirks knew that any lapse in his assault might give the mystic an opportunity to humiliate him as he had the last time.

With his infuriation running rampant, Dirks mumbled under his breath and followed his attack by reaching into his coat and pulling out the patented Beretta 950 from its holster. Dirks brought the gun to bear and aimed it directly between the mysticÃ*s eyes. ìAnd the impotent have risen in their stead.î But instead of pulling the trigger, Dirks flipped the gun around in his hand, dropped his arm, and then sent the butt of the gun towards SeiÃ*s chin in a fluid uppercut motion. The battle that began ages ago was finally about to end.

[Max Dirks]

This is all we've managed to reconstruct so far, but we are working to bring you the entire epic so that you may revel in its amazingness