Tournament of Assassins (Witness vs The Rider)

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The Rider

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#1  Edited By The Rider

It was a quiet night.  A full moon shone down upon the coast.  The calm silence that was about was suddenly interrupted by a thunderous roar.  In the moonlight, a lone figure tore down the road on his large hog towards the coastline.  His long black coat flapped in the wind, his spurred boots rested upon the motorcycle pegs; and his hands, covered by fingerless gloves with large spikes protruding out, gripped tightly onto the ape-hanger style handlebars.  By many, he was known as John Wallace.  By ALL, he was remembered as the Rider.  Wallace's abilities had earned him a fearsome reputation, for many knew what his abilities had in store for them.

At the current time, Wallace was on his way towards the beach.  The Blazing Saints had become known as enforcers of the road.  Along their way, they combated mercenaries, assassins, and other forces too terrible to comprehend.  It had come to the attention of the 'Saints that a special tournament of sorts would be held.  Many of the world's deadliest assassins had joined.  Therefore, the 'Saints would join as well.  The council saw it as a way to clear some of the world's most dangerous menaces.  When it came time to vote, John Wallace stood up.  Because he was the president of the group, he was urged by many to remain and have someone else go.  Despite the urgings of Joe Archer, Fa Shu Kai, Rider Davidson, and even Kayla D'Ambrose, John decided to go - alone.

After receiving the instructions, Wallace packed several weapons and supplies.  First and foremost, he strapped on a study yet lightweight piece of body armor.  Being made of the finest and sturdiest materials, John had received it from a contact within Veritas Inc.  It protected his entire torso and shoulder areas, while still enabling freedom of motion.  After that, he packed two modified Israeli .50 caliber hand guns on his upper body as well.  Then, he strapped on a set of throwing knives onto his right thigh.  While he was doing so, Rider Davidson walked by and started laughing.  "Hey look, it's Blade!" he said jokingly.  Davidson's youthful joking around helped balance out the strong seriousness portrayed by Fa Shu Kai.  As he prepared to leave, he grabbed a 5.56mm assault rifle.  When its bullets hit a human body, they would turn sideways and tear several inches of the target's flesh away.  It would serve as his large weapon.

John was just about ready.  He fastened a set of large hunting knives to his belt, grabbed his long coat, then headed towards the door.  As he was leaving the roadhouse, he saw Joe "the Renegade" Archer sitting at the bar with a mug of beer.  Joe looked at him, then nodded his head in acknowledgement.  Brock Peril and John Diaz were playing pool.  They simply looked up and watched as the President of the Blazing Saints walked by, perhaps to his death.  Just as he walked out the door, a hand was gently placed on his shoulder.  John looked back and saw Kay.  Although no one was around, she put on a strong face.  "You take care of yourself, ya hear?" she said.  By the sound of her voice, John could tell she was trying to hold back the emotion.  She then kissed his cheek and John headed over to his ride.  After starting it up, he turned around, glanced one more time at Kay, then rode off into the night.

As he tore down the road towards the beach, his heart began to quicken.  So much responsibility had befallen him.  He never asked for it.  Some people are born great.  Others have greatness thrust upon him.  John Wallace accepted the presidency when Jack "the Saint" Michaels died right before his eyes.  John had to survive.  At times, he took on the burden of others around him.  In some ways, it made him a "guardian" of sorts.  However, the spirit of Vengeance raged within his soul, struggling for control.  Wallace could not let it interfere with his reasoning now.  Above all, he rarely embraced the form of the Rider.  It was by far the strongest weapon he had.  However, it felt as if it were slowly gaining more and more control over him each time he embraced its nature.

He had finally reached the beach.  As his ride rolled along the sand, he stopped and cut the engine.  Closing his eyes briefly, he took in all of his surroundings.  The calming sea breeze which blew in his face, clearing him head and putting him in a more logical state of mind.  Wallace then dismounted the hog and siezed the chain that was wrapped around the helmet stand.  He wrapped the metallic whip around his torse and unshouldered the assault rifle.  Now, he was finally ready to battle.  He had no idea who his opponent was.  Whoever it was, he was ready for them.

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Witness!

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#2  Edited By Witness!

The wind along the coast line began to whistle a sweet serenade, its movements like a fine ballerina was soft and graceful. Although it could not be seen its presence could be felt, every touch was soft to the skin. Its strokes creating an invisible piece of artwork. The night was calm. A full moon ever watchful in the night sky shone brightly over the dark waters. Its light creating a glistening effect over the sea. The movement of the sea was mesmerizing to the eye. Everything was calm but one must be warned of what Mother Nature can do, she can so easily deceive and trick you into thinking all is well. A woman whose rage knows no bounds, so easily can she strike. To turn the sea into a raging storm, to cast lightning down onto a world that is slowly killing itself. There was a storm coming but this time it was not Mother Nature who was casting it, no something far worse was the eye of this storm.

The sound of a roaring engine could be heard in the distance, a bright light shining a pathway down the . Crouching behind a large rock, the voodoo ninja stayed hidden, away from the man. The roar of the engine was like a ferocious lion, proud but wild. Only but a few could tame them. A soft silence. A calm before the storm crossed the battlefield as the roaring sound came to a halt. To many the wait before the fight was the worse part, the fear of what they had to face would drive people insane. It was not the battle that frightened so many to a state of death; it did not know what lurked beneath the shadows that were truly scary. Some men let there fear control them. Others control there fear and turn it into bloodlust and rage. This is what he does; no longer does he feel fear. Only a sadistic blood thirsty monster is left.

The tiny grains of sand clanged to his bare feet, trapping themselves in between his toes. The wind whipped at his face gently. The moonlight bouncing of his snow white hair that flowed down to his neck. Its touch was as soft as the wind. A cloak like garb was flowing from his shoulders down into the soft sand. Its colours black as night, red lotus flowers decorating it. The darkness was enough to disguise his body from view. No shadow was cast, his movements limited so that even he could not be seen by the slightest movement of sands. As a ninja he was patient, analysing his opponent, the environment and he would use these things to his advantage. Always keeping one step ahead of his opponent. The man had dismounted his bike, standing in wait for an opponent that had been laying in wait for hours. A rifle gripped firmly in his hand, a chain wrapped around his waist. Taking everything into account he devised his first move.

Placing his thumb against his lips, the touch was gentle the two graced along each other. Witness smiled, as he placed the thumb in his mouth. Gently like a new born he began to suck on it, almost orgasmic as he bit into the skin. The blood began to flow from his open wound. The sweet pain sending him to a realm of pleasure as he closed his eyes. Only such sadistic nature would allow one to feel pleasure from self inflicted pain. The crimson liquid treacle from his thumb and drip by drip it touched the sand. Just as quickly as the wound had opened it began to close. His hand caressed the sand as the blood was mixed with the earth. Closing his eyes a trail of blood travelled towards the man, splitting off into four separate trails. They created puddles of blood. Two in front and two behind. A strong gust blew across the ocean as the puddles began to bubble. Rising from them were figures, as red as the blood that they were rising from. There figure human but there look something far worse.  Slowly veins and organs began to form. Step by step they were taking the form of a man and not just any man but of Witness himself.

Each one held a medium length katana. Staying behind the rock but taking a look. he watched as one of the blood clones charged towards the rider. The other 3 following suit, all moved with amazing speed. The one in front left aimed its blade for the spleen, the one on the right sent its blade in a stabbing motion for the left leg. The two behind striking there blades for the shoulder blades of the man. Witness smiled a sadistic smile as he was thinking of new plans should his opponent survive this attack.