Powers Beyond Comprehension...

[The Cinderella Man]

((Closed to Daggertail, Lavinian Pride, Lucien and Krugor.))

[Present day, Unknown location...]


“Man, did somebody catch a glimpse of that carriage driver that ran me over?”

Victor felt like he was at a party where he was the piñata and the partygoers beat the shit out of him until something start falling out. It was probably mostly teeth and blood and maybe even half-digested lunch and bile, but it was most definitely not candy. Strangely enough, they seemed to only hit him on the ribs and in the face because even now, when he laid half-conscious, those were the two places that hurt the most. It wasn’t a sharp kind of pain that would signify that he was beaten recently, but the dull, tomorrow-morning kind that lay dormant amiably until you made a move with one of your extremities.

The beaten prizefighter didn’t open his eyes momentarily. He was too tired and too sore and just wanted to sleep the ache away. However, even as he tried to remain as motionless as possible, he could feel a cold chill sweeping over him, amplifying what seemed like a moist, squishy feeling all over his back. He was probably in a gutter, he thought, or just having a nightmare that he was in a gutter. His hands made a move – despite the protest of his hurting muscles – for a blanket but found none. Then they moved to pull his coat or his shirt closer together, but there was none of that on him either. The realization of nakedness managed to snap him out of his this sleep. His eyes shot open, his elbows pushed against the soft, damp surface beneath him and Victor didn’t know what made his head ache more; the injury that formed a lump on the back of his skull, the recollection on how the injury came to existence or the environment that his eyes ascertained.


[Previous night, Radasanth Battle Arena “The Blood Pit”...]


He didn’t stand a chance. The bookies and their odds made it rather clear that he wasn’t an underdog in this one, he wasn’t even going to lose badly. He would have the god and all his angels beaten out of him tonight. Jack “The Fist” Dolianni was a mountain of a man, seven feet of muscles that all joined in a mission to pulverize each and every opponent. He didn’t have remarkable speed, but with that ginormous size he didn’t really need to. One look at the muscles of that half-giant made it clear to Victor that no matter what he threw at his opponent – including chairs and other inanimate objects – would do no good. He was up to get pounded like a little bitch. It was a suicide mission, everybody knew it. Victor knew it too. So why was he stupid enough to show up for the bout?

Money.

The battle organizers had it, Victor Callahan didn’t. The purse for the loser was two-fifty, mostly because nobody had the guts to stand in front of Jack. “Padre” probably didn’t have the guts either, but playing safe wasn’t an option when desperation came knocking. So he put on his lucky shorts, pulled on his gloves and entered the fray. The fray that came to an end in the first round. “The Fist” bombarded him like a rabid grizzly and in less then two minutes fired an uppercut that hit Victor in the chin and sent him over the ropes and into the first row of the bleachers. Then the world went black. And then the defeated prizefighter woke up in...


[Present day, Unknown location...]


Somebody was playing a goddamn prank on him. It had to be. Victor Callahan was lying on a large moist sponge that serenely floated in the middle of what seemed like a clogged sink. The murky water around him might’ve smelled like soap once, but the submerged dishes – plates, cups, trays – seemed to be there long enough to kill any trace of detergent. To the left of him, on the “shore”, several empty wine bottles rested next to a pile of utensils. Each one was about as large as Victor.

“HOLY CRAP!!!” was the first reaction of the prizefighter who propped himself up on his elbows, observing the unfathomable environment. Around him was what seemed like a rather large kitchen, unremarkable in any other aspect except the fact that it was so large that Victor felt like a doll that just strolled out of its dollhouse and into the real world. His mind consolidated soon enough though. “That bastard Jack certainly hits like a hammer. This is probably the weirdest dream ever.”

It didn’t feel like a dream though. It should’ve felt like a dream, but his butt was getting wrinkly from the moist sponge and no matter how loud he screamed inside of his aching head to wake up, it didn’t seem to be working. If this was a dream – or rather, a nightmare – it was a creepily realistic one.

“I gotta get out of this sink.” he said to himself, leaning towards the edge of the sponge just enough so he could paddle with his hand. “I can’t believe I just said that.”

[Krugor]

“Let’s tango, baby!”

Krugor shouted at the top of his lungs. He hadn’t danced in a very long time, and even then it was because he was forced to. But this was a very special occasion, the skeleton couldn’t help himself, he just had to burst into song and dance. This was to good to be true, he kept telling himself, but when things didn’t change he suddenly felt the urge to express his feeling in this rather creative way. The tango.

It didn’t take the man long to fill the entire cupboard with a thin layer of salt. Yet he kept on dancing, his arms tightly wrapped around the saltshaker. It seemed like winter, the way the shaker kept spreading salt through the air. Krugor was a terrible dancer, but his partner didn’t seem to mind. The saltshaker was painted to look like a small woman, with an eternal smile marking her face, her darkly colored eyes piercing through the skeleton. Whatever he did, she didn’t even flinch. The perfect dancing partner.

From tango to salsa. Salsa to rumba, rumba to the foxtrot, the skeleton kept on dancing. The cupboard littered with salt and even some pepper. When Krugor realised he was littering the place he took a break and sat down, his legs and feet hanging off the edge of the cupboard. The closest filled with dishes and cups was nailed to the wall. The undead could look a long way down before the cabinet beneath him came into view. It would be a hard job, even near impossible, to get down there. But he had to. His celebrations had been in vain if he didn’t get down there.

Inspecting himself Krugor didn’t seem to mind that both his shirt and linen shorts were gone. He was dead anyway, so there was nothing to see or be ashamed off. The only thing he found really disturbing was the fact that he couldn’t locate his staff. He was near powerless without his staff and backpack. How would he cook all those delicacies without his cooking gear? The skeleton grinned as he took another look at the cabinet beneath him;

A relatively small bowl, filled to the brim with shiny, fresh and gigantic apples. Drops of moisture marked several places upon the brightly red colored fruit, proving that it was extremely fresh. Next to the apples lay a plate with several sliced pieces of tomato. Next to that Krugor could see a variety of red peppers, potatoes, mushrooms, onions and some parsley. There were even several empty bottles of wine. All of the ingredients that lay displayed in the kitchen were almost big enough for the skeleton to live in, but he didn’t mind. This was heaven for him.

There was only one thing that worried his mind. How would he get down there? He was here, on top of a massive cupboard, hanging way above the cabinet, down there. Krugor looked around, maybe there was something he could use. But that hopeful thought quickly vanished. The only things there were a saltshaker, a pepper shaker and a lot of dust mixed with salty snow.

And then he saw it. A way out. It was risky, but worth the try nonetheless.

A quick prayer was enough to prepare the man for his risky attempt. He didn’t have anything to lose anyway. So he positioned his hands in front of him, bended over with his left leg straightened behind him, with his other slightly curved. One last breath and the skeleton shot into a fast run.

Within a second he was flying through the air, surrendering to the winds, hopefully guiding him to where he needed to be. And luck was with Krugor for he landed exactly on the side of a plate, which was placed at forty-five degrees in what seemed to be some filthy water. The skeleton slid down along the plate, hitting the water rather comfortably.

“Well good day, sir. What are you doing in my kitchen?” he said, realising there was somebody else in the water.

[Lavinian Pride]

(Somewhere in Radasanth)

"Sarah wake up!"

A groan emitted through the room as a hand found its way up from under the covers. It seemed to grope the pillow as if attempting to strangle the wielder of the voice. The intent clear, the figure under the sheets did not care what time it was, it was too damn early. As the hand relaxed it seemed to go dormant while the sheets shifted slightly on the bed, and once more the sounds of soft snores could be heard.

In the room was a girl, no older than six. She had a frown upon her childish face as she shouted out her brown hair mussing in front of her face as she said, "Listen up missy, if we don't reach Underwood by daybreak its your fault. I don't care what you have to say. We need to be ready to go by sundown and that’s only a few minutes away!"

The hand moved once more making perhaps the rudest of uncouth gestures before the gril frowned, her brown eyes going dark as she moved to the bed and pulled back the covers, "If you want to play like that we'll play. At least one of us gets to act their age!"

The covers pulled back revealed the rumpled form of one Sarah Dahlios. Her skin was a pallid color in stark contrast with her brown hair. However as she cringed she gripped the pillow tightly. Dressed sparingly she was resting in the bed before she was promptly seized by the six year old caretaker of the vampiress. Groaning as she grumbled finally her voice could be heard, "Fine I'm up I'm up leave me the hell alone!"

The girl moved off her charge as the vampiress yawned and gripped her forehead. It was more a throwback to the time she had been alive as she closed her eyes and said softly, "What time is it?"

"Time for you to get dressed, unless you want to spend another day in Radasanth. I know you just fed, but we might want to get away from the crime scene. Vampires can stick out like a sore thumb if they aren't careful, and you have the tact of a bull in a pottery shop," The girl said firmly. Sarah gave the girl a sharp look before she huffed, "Well you do!"

"Kid, remind me never to give you another lesson in attitude, you passed the class..." Sarah said as she rubbed the sleep form her eyes. Kid, the blood puppet that had become Sarah's property through dubious means, only tilted her head as she looked at the vampire she was supposed to feed and take care of. Supposed to, being the key terms, as she had been doted on and nearly spoiled by the vampiress, who had other intentions for the puppet.

As she moved to get out of the bed she stopped as she groaned her eyes closing. Something felt funny, like a hook that jerked through her navel, and the result of which ended up with her feeling like she was being pulled. As the pull finished she grumbled, "I better not feed from hobos again, there is no telling what the hell they were drinking."

Half expecting a chide from the puppet she counted silently to three before she frowned and opened her eyes. Looking around she stopped as she didn't even hear the pitter patter of Kid's heart. Instead she heard almost nothing at all. Nothing that was, until a distant clink. Opening her eyes she was made aware of two things. One, she was completely nude, not even the undergarments she usually wore to bed adorned her graceful figure. And finally, she was not in the hotel room.

Looking around she crossed her hands over her chest, figuring that was the best she could do. Looking lower was pointless as there wouldn't be much to show. At least if she crossed her arms over her chest she could appear decently modest. However, the important part was that she was seated on the edge of a box. Looking upon it she saw that it had engraved into the box lid the word matches. And as expected a quick look showed a candle or two nearby.

Her mind was doing a double take as she was beginning to wake up, and more importantly assess her situation. Looking around she looked in the distance towards the area of the clink before she shouted, "Hello!? Is anyone there?"

As she waited for a few moments she said to herself, "I had better be dreaming, if not I'm going to kill someone...."