WriterwritingaboutthecabalsofbloodbeyondtheBerzerkers

Jonny entered Bill’s one bedroom
home on Conover St in East Lansing
without knocking. He kicked his shoes off in
Bill’s living room with a cocky kind of smile
that would have vexed Bill if he’d seen it.
But Bill wasn’t inside his home. He was
sitting on the back porch staring at his
keyboard and hoping to find words which
had evaded him for most of the day. In his
open sliding door which connected the
dining area and the porch he’d set up a ten
inch TV which loudly played a true crime
story.
Jonny crept across the carpet of the
living room and slunked though the dining
area into the galley kitchen to retrieve a
domestic beer he was sure to find in the
refrigerator. Then he casually strolled past
the little television out onto the porch where
he cracked open the ice cold bottle sure to
avoid even looking at his baffled friend at
the old picnic table beside to him.
“You just come barging into my
house?!” Bill said throwing a hand into the
air with surprise, “How many times do I
have to tell you to knock!”
“Yeah I forgot,” Jonny said taking a
seat across from Bill, “I’ll knock next time,”
he winked, “How's the book coming?”
“Is that my beer?” Bill tried to act
angry but after ten years of friendship he
didn’t know why he bothered still trying to
tell Jonny not to come in without knocking or
not to drink his beer. Jonny was keen on
doing both. To a small extent Bill thought
that Jonny might knock if he’d been initially
told to just come in. Jonny was like that.
Always trying to cause a stir.
“Yeah but don’t worry I got more in
the car,” Jonny said, “How's the book?”
“The books coming along fine. I’ve
got a few more interviews to do next week
in-”
Jonny interrupted, not unexpectedly,
“Did you see that thing in Utah? About the
girl got shot in the head?” Bill was caught off
guard, he’d seen nothing of it in the paper.
He opened his mouth to answer but Jonny
continued, “Straight in the head,” Jonny
pointed between his eyes, “Pft! Right here!
And she lived! A nine year old!” he paused,
“Well she looks like a nine year old. The
parents say she’s a nine year old but
apparently the are in this cult. You could
use them for your book maybe. This cult
thinks the girl is over twenty years old and
that she’s some immortal god risen from the
dust of the cosmos or some shenanigans to
save mankind. The girls already up and
walking. I saw it before I came over. Crazy
stuff.”
Bill ensured that he saved his
document three times, redundancies, and
then closed his laptop, “Shot in the head
and she’s walking already?”
“Yeah!” Jonny took a slug from the
beer, “Crazy stuff. Was on channel twelve.”
“Interesting,” Bill said, flipping his
television to channel twelve. It was easier to
just turn the channel than to hear more
about it from Jonny, “It’s probably not. The
cults I’m putting together for this book are
rare. Had to find. Not the kind of people that
let themselves get on the news.”

“Yeah, yeah, all secrete society
typed and all,” Jonny said nodding to the
television. There was a procession of police
and doctors standing on stage with a very
young girl. She was a pale girl with little
freckles, curly brown hair, and skyline blue
eyes that caught the camera. There was a
bandage wrapped around the the poor girl's
forehead that was also taped down the top
of her nose, “That poor girl!”
A diagram came on screen with an
explanation that the bullet entered her head,
passed perfectly between the lobes of her
brain and then exited the back of her skull.
Scientists claim her to be a miracle. Then
the broadcast went into the fact that the girl
already had followers and was viewed as a
god by her family and the people she lived
around. The girl was part of the cult of Ak’, a
group in northern Utah. Her people claimed
that she was the ageless vessel of a god
which was older than man and whom would
bring man into it’s cosmic destiny.
“Well that actually is amazing,” Bill
said, quite surprised that Jonny had actually
shown him something that might prove
useful.
“So you can use it?”
“I mean,” Bill paused, “Probably.
Clearly this is a cult. I’d have to look into
what Ak’ means or is and what they really
think this little girl is. If they are out there
enough and they include some ancient god
yeah they’d be great. And relevant. My
publisher would love it.”
Jonny tipped his beer in Bill’s
direction, “Yeah see! Jonny’s got ya!”
Bill smiled, almost laughed, “Thanks.
It’d be a good get.”
“So you’re gunna hire me right?”
Jonny made a funny face, pushing down a
burp and squinting his eyes. He turned it
into a big hopefully smile.
Bill’s publisher had given him an
advance on his next book to cover the
expenses of the extensive travel it required
and after recent events given him a little
extra for personal security. On his last trip to
Nebraska he was assaulted while asking
questions about a girl who’d disappeared.
He’d found the cult though one of the
woman's coworkers which he’d met in an
online message board. Her coworkers had
seemed more concerned for her
disappearance than her family and the local
authorities had done nothing to find her. In
some weird way Bill had possibly been that
woman's only hope for justice and he’d
abandoned her. Not only her but the
memory of her name. After his book was
published he’d hopefully forget about his
failure to find her answers. Hopefully his
book would make a difference, however
unlikely that was.
“I told you I’m not sure I can hire you
as a bodyguard. They do check into what I
spend the money on. I can’t just spend it
willy nilly.”
“Yeah that’s why I set up an LLC.
Triple J Guarding at your service. You can
even invoice me at my business address,”
he paused, “Also my home address,” he
smiled, “We’re good to go traveling!”
***

There was a shotty turbulence
occasionally making the 747 vibrate but it
wasn’t anything new or alarming. Most the
passengers didn’t notice it with their books,
tablets, and phones to entertain them. But
Jonny hadn’t flown before. He’d never been
more than a hundred miles outside of
Lansing Michigan before. Now he was over
four thousand feet in the air, inside a metal
tube, being held up by some form of science
bending air to create upward thrust that he’d
never understand. He had a rum and coke
to keep his cool and then another to actually
feel the liquor in his system. He followed
this with a beer to keep his nerves calm and
stop Bill from being too upset by the amount
his supposed bodyguard was drinking. Bill
liked his light beers but he was not typically
a heavy drinker like Jonny. Jonny could
finish a fifth of vodka in a night and get up
the next morning at 5 am ready to strangle
the tasks of the day. Bill in the same
situation would be incapable of even caring
for himself the following morning.
“So,” Jonny slurred a little looking at
Bill typing in the seat next to him, “These
cults you're writing about now. These are
like offshoots of christianity or islam right?
But like the old old versions from back when
Jesus walked?”
“No,” Bill said, “They all seem to
claim to be from a time before modern
religions arose. Some claim to be from a
time before man. There’s a moon based cult
that I interviewed the priest of in Manhattan
that claimed he could speak with his codex
and that he was the voice of the moon god.
The moon god being a creature of the
cosmos that predates the Earth itself.”
“Trippy shit,” Jonny said looking out
the window, “Think it’s all real?”
“I think it’s all rubbish. These poor
people are being taken advantage of by
crazies. The weird thing is that it’s
happening more and more. They found
inuits in a bay in northern Canada that were
locked on a series of islands somehow
surviving by eating whales and fish that
washed up on their frozen shores.”
“They didn’t fish?”
“They didn’t know what fishing was.
They all claimed that their god was under
the bay and was feeding them. That they’d
been sustained for centuries surely on the
gifts of their god. It seemed ludicrous and
yet for a hundred miles around them there is
no society and hardly any animals. Yet
these people scrawl the same strange
language into their skin that’s popping up all
around the world. Like these cults just
stopped hiding.”
“Well maybe they weren’t hiding.
Maybe no one was looking for them.”
That was the brightness of Jonny.
An answer to a question that’d been burning
away at Bill’s mind. Why didn’t anyone know
about these religions or this ancient
language? Because unlike the other
religions no one knew to look for them. They
didn’t seem to advertise or recruit. For the
most part the cults simply existed in areas
for generations without change. If no one
knew to look for them. No one would look
for them. With modern communications
everything is accessible. Bill had found most
of his cultist leads in online forums. Most
were fake or just a three or four person

group getting together to do drugs under the
guise of a purpose but the ones that were
real had all used the same strange sigiled
language.
“That actually makes sense,” Bill
said, pushing the save button three times
before closing his laptop.
“Yeah. I mean we didn’t know gravity
was gravity until we looked for it did we?”
“That actually makes sense,” Bill
said. He never expected much in the way of
logic from Jonny. Jonny had a reputation in
their old circle of friends for being brash and
ignorant in his views. But much of that had
stemmed from his upbringing and teenage
rebellion. Many of their shared friends were
from grade school. Many thing had changed
between then and their current state of late
twenties.
“I’m glad you let me come. Get’s me
out of the factory. I hate it there. It’s so
boring watching the parts run by all night. I
very nearly do nothing. I hate the plane but
at least this plane is something new.”
“No thanks needed. Having you
around might make this easier. Getting
started in these communities is a lot like
selling magazines door to door. You get told
to fuck off a lot and when people do sit
down to talk to you they hardly have a thing
to say.”
“Think it’ll be better with two
people?”
“No. But it will be more fun than
slogging through weeks of it alone in a hotel
room.”
“We are good to talk to the cult in
Mexico right? They said yes before we got
on the plane?”
“No,” Bill’s voice was stern, “I have a
contact that knows about the cult and has
agreed to lead us to their temple. He
doesn’t know you. These people get touchy.
I will be asking all the questions. You're
here because my publisher doesn’t want me
talking to these people alone.”
“Real serious about the whole body
guard thing huh?”
“Had a gun pulled on me more than
once in Kansas. The local cops didn’t even
care. It was weird. You're here because
you're tall and look a bit intimidating. That
scar on your check will make most people
think you're some kind of badass when I tell
them you're my bodyguard. Probably stop
most attempts. Your like my beware of dogs
sign.”
Jonny half laughed and rubbed the
little scar under his eye. He’d crashed his
bike at age ten and still bore the wound
from it, “Shoulda let me bring my gun.”
“Yeah having an unregistered gun
on a plane would be great. We’ll be fine. I’ve
done this loads of times. Just follow my lead
and look tough. Easiest job you’ve ever
had.”
***
Their first stop in Arizona was
outside Sierra Vista where the rolling plains
of dessert met sparsely spread houses in
the hot desert air. It was good that it was so

dry for it it’d been moist like the Michigan air
they were used to the air would have
engulfed them in a blanket of stagnant heat
which even a hard wind could not move.
Instead, because of the dryness, there was
a dusty grainy feel to the air and a sense
that everything was covered or would be
covered in sand. Although they’d only
actually been outside for brief moments of
time they each felt their skin sucked dry of
moisture and they’d each experienced bits
of sand floating into the crevices of their
bodies. Their throats were dry, and so they
consumed copious amounts of water in the
drive from Phoenix to Sierra Vista. Bill had
rented a midsize Sedan with good gas
milage for the tip. With as high as they
blasted the AC they likely were getting the
mileage of a truck.
The duo pulled into the rocky
driveway of Matthew Livingston. It was a
ranch style two bedroom home down an
unkempt stretch of road. The house's
exterior was dilapidated and gave the initial
impression that when the wind blew up sand
it would not only pass through the side of
the house but still have enough gust to
continue on through the leave the old
structure. Jonny swore he saw the house tilt
in a light blow of wind but Bill hadn’t noticed.
He’d instructed Jonny to just let Bill do all
the talking. It’d be easier that way. As much
as Bill liked having Jonny around he didn’t
quite know what to expect from Jonny when
it came to actually getting work done.
The old door felt solid even though a
few paint chips fell from it when BIll
knocked. It creaked open by the rough hand
of burly bearded Matthew. He’d opened the
door looking half asleep though it was noon
and motioned the two men into the living
room. There they sat with their shoes on top
of Matthew’s 80’s style blue shag carpet on
the only furniture in the home, a hundred
dollar futon with it’s back righted to form a
couch. Matthew leaned against the wall,
wearing plaster covered boots himself and
finally spoke, “So your Bill right?” he paused
while Bill said yes, “Great. For a second I
was worried I let some salesmen in without
even questioning it,” Bill couldn’t imagine he
got a lot of salesmen out near nowhere,
“Don’t mind the mess this here’s a flip of
mine. Haven’t done the living room yet. Just
the two bedrooms and the kitchen. Anything
to drink?”
Jonny sat silent, Bill answered, “No
were good. I’d really like to just get right into
it. You said your son was part of a cult?” He
pulled out a pad of paper from his
knapsack.
Matthew sighed, “Yeah my boy
Rorey got in with some folks across the
border into Mexico. Come to see him about
a month ago and he’s got these symbols
carved into his arm. All scabbed up and
bloody. Wont wrap the things because he’s
supposed to bleed for some god of his.”
face.
“Fuck,” said Jonny making a weird
Bill glared at Jonny, “Matthew can
you tell me how it all started? How he got
involved in this?”
“Yeah,” Matthew said nodding his
head and scratching at his beard, “Well I
suppose it started when he an Pete Meyers
started boxing together a few years back.
That turned in this MMA kick each other in
the face stuff you see now? The real violent

stuff. Well they were into that at a gym up in
Tucson and they’d go up there and get
roughed up every week or so. He was
getting very strong. Started turning into
more muscle than man I think. So they’re
doing that and talking about getting involved
professionally. Which I think is a good way
to die. But heck I could cut my hand with the
saw tomorrow and bleed out before anyone
came to help me out here so I didn’t think
too much harm in it if made him happy.
Besides from what I understood he usually
won.”
“Do you know the name of the place
they went to in Tucson?”
“No. Can’t recall that. They only
went there for a few months before they
started going south to some Pete found that
fights by the border. Like a Mexican
American fighting contest of sorts? Well not
quite. I don’t want to sound racist or nothin.
They were people from Mexico and people
from America. They all just liked fighting
each other in the desert at night. Phil, my
boy, was doin good, making money. Then I
didn’t see him for a good month? Thought
something had happened to him down
there. So I went lookin.”
“Down where?”
“Mexico, just cross the border.”
“You know where they went?”
“Yeah I followed them once. I
couldn’t get a hold of Phil and I saw Pete
driving his truck one afternoon so I swung
around after him thinkin I’d just ask him if he
knew where Phil was. The boy goes driving
down out of town towards Mexico so I figure
if Pete’s going to Mexico they’re meeting
and Phil will probably be there.”
“Pete is Phil’s friend from boxing and
MMA? Did they know each other before
that?”
“Yeah, they uh, they went to
highschool together I think.”
Bill nodded and wrote it down.
Matthew continued, “So we're going
down this road and Pete veers off into the
desert. At this point I know he know’s I'm
following him because there’s only the two
of us on the road and there’s no chance of
someone just happening to be flittin off into
the dessert like that unless they are
following you.”
“Right, right. So do you still
remember where you went?”
“Yeah I could find it if I wanted to.
Not sure that I do though. Some places you
don’t wanna go back to.”
“But your son is still with them
right?” Bill was perplexed. What father
would not want to find his son?
“Yeah he’s one of them,” Matthew
shrugged, “If it makes him happy that’s all
the matters.”
“Usually when I’ve talked to people
whose kids of friends are in cults they are
trying to get them out. Why’d you contact
me if you're ok with it? The message board
we met on was about breaking ties with
cults and churches.”

“Ya know. Ya have a few drinks and
worry a bit more and look for solutions. I
have my days where I worry more than
others. Got a letter a three days ago that
said he was doing alright. The return
address was a PO box in town here. He
said everything was fine and that he was
happy. Said he was working on something
and that he’d visit when he could.
Communication cuts the worry.”
“What happened when you followed
Pete into the desert?’
“Huh,” Matthew looked confused for
a moment, “Right Pete. Well we're out there
and it gets dark. I’m wondering if I’ve got
enough gas to get back home without
finding a station and then we go over this
ridge and down below are all these cars in a
circle. It was like a scene out of Mad Max.
Those old Mel Gibson movies? Ya know?
With the cars in the desert and all the crazy
people on motorcycles, big trucks, and
covered in spikes? They’d set up their own
kinda thunderdome made out of chainlink
fencing. It was actually pretty cool.”
“They let you in?”
“Oh yeah, lost sight of Pete but they
were a very inclusive bunch. Shook my
hand introduced me to a few people.”
“They didn’t bar you at the gates?
They didn’t shoo you away? That’s weird.
The cults I’ve been looking into have
generally pushed outsiders away.”
“Oh no not these folk. They were all
nice. Gave me a beer told me to have a
seat and said if I wanted to see Phil I’d have
to wait because he was fighting that night.”
“But they let you see him?”
“Yeah after he beat this guy to a
pulp with his hands. Really messed the guy
up. Can’t say I wasn’t proud of the boy but I
did feel bad for his opponent.”
“Did they have a doctor or
anything?”
“Looked like they did. The guy Phil
beat was unconscious when they took him
out on a gurney. I missed a lot of his sports
in highschool because I was working. I felt
like being ok with this kinda made up for
that,” Matthew struck a weird look like he
didn’t know what to say next, “So the two er
three hundred people watching all cheer
and scream some words I don’t understand,
an I know it ain’t spanish, then this guy in
tan robes comes out with two beautiful
women in these like metal bikinis. The
whole image was very metal. Like how the
old metal rock bands tried to look. Very
metal, like the music Phil likes.”
“Was he a priest?”
“Looked like it. He took this leather
wrap and put it around Phil’s arm. It was
hard to see but it looked like it had holes in
it that the guy dragged a little blade down
through. At first I thought it was a pen or
marker. Like a tattoo type deal. The guy
next to me nudged me and told me what an
honor it was to receive what Phil was
receiving. That Phil was now some elite
warrior in their group. He pulled the leather
off his arm and blood just slopped out of it.
Phil smiled like he used to at christmas and
held his sick bloody arm up to the roar of

the crowd. It’s was like ancient Rome or
something.”
him?”
“What’d he say when you spoke to
“Well I hardly spoke to him that
night. It took me an hour to get close
enough to see him what with everyone
fawning over him for his victory. I asked
around about the guy cutting into his arm
and these people kept telling me that it was
to show he’d never been defeated and that
he’d honored Kre, whoever that was. When
I finally got to Phil he hugged me, got blood
all over my coat and said he was overjoyed
I’d witnessed his greatest day. So I told him
he needed to cover up his arm. It was all
covered in those symbols you were posting
online. Cut deep too! He wouldn’t cover it.
Said Kre would protect him. Then when I
argued, not even about how it’s crazy to cut
your arm, but that he could at least put
some disinfectant on it and stop hugging
sweaty strangers long enough to clean the
fucking wound,” Matthew looked like he was
expecting some showing of understanding
from Bill and Jonny. So that Matthew would
know he wasn’t being irrational. Jonny
agreed and Bill nodded, “He tells me he
loves me. Which is weird because he ain't
said that to me since he was near twelve!
Then he tells me that he’s sure I’m confused
and he’ll visit me the next day. Like a father
can just see his son beat a man half to
death, get some fucked up runes carved
into his skin, then go home and sleep?
Shit,” Matthew was worked up now and
breathing heavy. His face a red and he was
clearly more worried than he’d originally let
on.
“So did he visit you?”
“Yeah he visited me two days later.
Came in with his damn arm still unwrapped
at about ten at night the next day. Said he
couldn’t stay long as he had plans! Said he
wasn’t working at the repair shop anymore
and that he was going to go live in the
desert with these people in Mexico. That
he’d come see me now and again but that I
might not see him for a while at first. Which
was fine. Ya know, do what makes you
happy. But then we got into this argument
about how I worry too much and how he’s
fine and that he’s gunna heal just fine. He
wants the scars. Their part of his new
religion. Then he just stormed off. Wasn’t
here more than five minutes.”
“That’s rough,” Bill was scribbling
everything down, “Is this like a fight club
then?”
“I thought so. Then I saw the guy in
the robes and these people shoveling up
and boxing all the bloodied sand. They took
it all with them back into some tunnel in the
hillside that night. I hope Phil Isn't living
underground like an animal. But like I said, if
it makes him happy,” It sounded like
Matthew was trying to convince himself to
accept his son’s decisions but that in
actuality he was not fully sure of his son’s
safety.
Bill let the room go silent for a
moment. He could tell Jonny was biting his
tongue but couldn’t imagine what would
come out of his mouth. It took Bill longer
than most to process information. He had to
think about things, rationalize them, and
remove all fantasy or points of suspect so
that there would be only truth and fact
before he made a decision based on what

he’d learned. After doing so Bill asked, “Do
you know if Pete lives with Phil in the
desert?”
Matthew looked to think, he glanced
out the window next to him and the back to
the two men on his futon, “Yeah I heard he’s
living with his mother now. Up in Saint
David.”
“Do you know where in Saint
David?”
“No but I can give the number for
Phil's ex. They broke up a few years back
but she ran with Phil and Pete long enough
that she should know. You think talkin with
him might help?”
“Yeah,” Bill stopped himself, he
wanted to say he’d try to help get Phil out of
the cult but that wasn’t his gig. He was there
to observe and learn. To write about the cult
and learn, “I’m only here to learn about
them. I’m not here for an intervention. I just
want to make that clear. I’ll give you
everything I learn but like I said when we
spoke online. I’m just a writer. I’m not here
to get people out of cults.”
“Oh no I understand. I mean I just
want to know more. If you go in and found
out they’re all good people he’s happy that’s
great. I’d rather see that then have an
intervention. Easier an all.”
“Thanks for understand and helping.
If we decided to go out to find them would
you be willing to show us where you
followed Pete to?”
“Yeah. I could do that. I’d like to see
Phil again. Maybe convince him to have
lunch once a week or something,” Matthew
sounded said then. Like he’d been hiding
his sadness the whole time Bill had been in
his home.
The three shook hands. Bill declined
free beers much to Jonny’s shugrin and
after Matthew gave them the ex-girlfriend,
Meg’s phone number they were back in the
sandy rental car making their way back to
their motel.
***
Jonny was stir crazy after spending
two days sitting in a motel room with Bill
working away at his computer. Bill had tried
to contact Meg four times the day before
and already three times that day. He was
intent upon spending this day working or
calling Meg so that he could get a hold of
Pete. Bill hadn’t left a voicemail as like
many salesmen he feared she would not
return his call if she knew is intent. Still with
their next flight set to leave in four days Bill
didn’t have much more time to waste on this
lead before they’d take a trip into the desert.
So on his fourth call at five that afternoon
Bill left her a message saying that he was
trying to find Pete and Phil because they’d
joined a cult and just wanted to ask her one
question. He emphasised that he’d only ask
one question and that after that Meg would
never hear from Bill again.Bill reasoned that
to most people this was a reasonable
request.
He finally got a response from her in
the form of an angry phone call at near
eleven that night. Meg was nasty with Bill
over the phone calling him all sorts of
names because he’d called her so many
times without leaving a message. Then
claimed that whatever bad situation “the

astard” Phil was involved in he probably
deserved it. Still after she calmed Bill was
able to get a general idea of where to find
Pete. She didn’t have an address, only a
description of the cross roads and that the
house was the two story white one with a
waterless angel fountain in the front. Bill
thanked her and she told him that if he
called her again she’d call the cops for
harassment. He didn’t plan on including that
in his book.
The houses near Pete’s parents
home where nicer that Matthew’s home.
The yards were mostly nearly arranged
stones with the occasional statue placed to
brighten up the landscape. It took them two
hours of driving in circles down the mix of
roads around the intersection Meg
described until they at long last found the
home. There were no cars and no lights on
around noon when Bill and Jonny rolled
past in their rental car. Bill took down the
address so he could find more easily and
drove away. Jonny wondered why and Bill
explained that he wanted to drive past again
in a few hours when there might be a car or
some indication that someone was home.
Before then they would get some lunch.
Jonny joked that it was like stalking but was
happy to be eating a good meal instead of
fast food or pizza brought back to the motel.
While eating lunch Bill checked his
usual online message boards. Places on the
internet where people came together to talk
about their family members involvement in
weird cults and discuss the appearances of
weird symbols around the world. Bill had
located nearly one hundred different cults
that all had similar glyphs and sigils in their
writings or embroidery. Some theorized that
these were secrete religions of the old gods
that only now we're seeing the light because
of our widespread communication but
others theorized that these religions were all
some elaborate hoax by a group of internet
trolls. A member of one of the message
boards, Mr.Fluorite217, privately messaged
Bill telling him that he’d created a way to
“see beyond the mortal realm and glimpse
that which lies in the layers just beyond our
sight. A place when we can not touch but
only see and that even there the glyphs
exist.” Mr.Fluorite217 asked if Bill had made
any progress is learning more about the
cults and explained that might be able to
help if Bill were to come to London to help
figure out what the creatures one layer deep
might be doing and how they interacted with
the human world. He also rambled about
beings built of pure hate residing in
conjunction with his own world and that
beyond them was a radiant world of colors
and physics where books could be
absorbed by sight and gravity could be
seen. Then user Mr.Fluorite217 rambled on
some more about how he hadn’t show
anyone else for fear of the world taking his
invention from him. Bill responded that he
would look into this after his current task
and noted to Mr.Fluorite217 that he’d be
busy for much of the comming week with
work and unlikely to respond at any quick
pace. Bill was leery of Mr.Fluorite217 and
discarded the story as it likely was the
ramblings of an internet troll.
When they returned to Pete’s
parents home there still were no cars but
the living room curtains that had been
closed were now open. Jonny hadn’t
noticed but this face made Bill confident that
he would get some information. They
knocked and waited. There was no answer
so Jonny moved to leave. Bill motioned for

Jonny to stop which he did. A short while
later Bill knocked again, this time harder
and longer. Still nothing. After waiting a
good five minutes quietly listening for
sounds inside the home Bill knocked a third
time. This time with a happy kind of rhythm
to the knocking. The door was this time
answered by a twenty something half
asleep man with bloodshot eyes and sweat
that wet his clothes like it’d just rained. He
was gumpy man who didn’t so much as
answer but grunted at them.
“Hello,” Bill stated calmly yet with a
sort of absent authority, “I was just stopping
by home to talk to Pete or Phil. Pete’s dad
sent us this way.”
The young man almost closed the
door then stopped, “What about?”
“Well I’ve seen a lot about some
group in the desert. I wanted to learn more
before visiting them. I was hoping Pete or
Phil could help lead me in the right
direction?”
“What’s in it for me?”
“Fifty bucks if you’ve got any good
information sound fair?”
“I need a hundred to finish paying
rent here this month.”
“I can do one hundred.”
He opened the door and stepped
back motioning the two men in. The young
man lead them through the living area to the
dining room table then sat down across
from them without saying another word.
“Your Phil I take it?” Bill said as he
took a seat. He could tell Jonny was itching
at a chance to talk to someone other than
Bill and worried that Jonny would start
talking during his discussion and distract the
process.
The young man rumpled his face
and said, “No I’m Ned. I just live with Pete.
We rent this place out from his parents.
Pete’s asleep in the basement. Sleeps most
of the day.”
Bill opened his wallet and pulled out
five of his eight twenties setting them on the
table, “We really wanted to speak with
Pete.”
“Well Pete’s out cold. He’s been
awake for about four hours a night the last
week or so since we got back from Kal’ara.”
“Kal’ara?”
“Yeah Kal’ara is a little place in
Mexico about three hours south of here.
Pete and Phil took me out there to take part
in their macho fighting club. I’d only been
once. Pete was apparently living there.
Wanted to recruit me on account of my
being all state in wrestling in highschool.
You want to hear about these cult fucker
huh?” Phil wiped some sweat from his
forehead onto his wet arm, “AC is on full
blast. You guys are probably a little nippy?
You got an accent from up north
somewhere?”
“Were fine,” Bill said, he had
goosebumps from the cold and could see
goosebumps on Jonny’s neck but the cold
was bearable, “You visited the cult too and
you knew it was a cult?”

“Pft. I knew it was a cult as soon as I
found out Phil was living there now and had
all those scars on his arm. Shit some of
them never healed and just bled a little all
day every day. Which of course Phil said
was part of the honor. Which was weird. So
when we got out there and I saw these
fuckers going all wrestle mania on each
other but for real I figured I should leave.
But that wasn’t enough ya see? I was there
at the start of the night and we had to stay
until the end.”
“So you only went the one time?”
“Yeah I went the one time. Pete’s
last time out there too. These guys were
crazy why do you want to know about them
anyway.”
“I’m writing a book about cults
around the world that all have the same
symbols. Like the ones on Phil’s arm.”
“There’s more of these guys around
the world? It’s some creepy Fight Club
esque shit.”
“Yeah there’s a lot of cults using the
same sigils. Some claim to predate
christianity.”
“Yeah these guys said that too. Said
Jesus was a false idol and that the only true
god was some ancient thing that was all
about blood and pain and war or something.
Real dark shit too. There were some very
pretty girls there though. They were getting
guys to come then kinda getting all sexy on
them to lure them into getting into the ring
for fighting. Twisted if you ask me. One of
them girls just about mounted me trying to
get me in there. She had some runes or
symbols carved across her chest that
looked like the ones on Phil’s arm. They
bled a little too. She was a real twisted
chick. Saw her take down another girl in two
quick moves. Really horrorshow that girl.”
“So it was mostly fighting you saw?”
“Yeah what I saw was mostly
fighting. I had some of their sacred wine and
after that I wanted to fight but I knew it was
wrong. Can’t just beat people out in the
desert like that. Glad I didn’t fight neither
after what happened to Pete.”
“Did Pete fight?”
“Oh yeah Pete fought! He had a
good bout against four smaller guys. They
all came at him with pipes and there was
Pete all alone. They called it his final
conquest. Four on one with friggin pipes.
Crazy, count me out. I told him to get the
fuck outa there.”
“Did he win?”
“Pft, no. Four guys with pipes
against just Pete? He’s lucky they didn’t kill
him. But it’s not that that's the worst. It’s that
after they pummeled the guy they dragged
him out and told him he had to start all over
again. That he was now an initiate. Not
even a member. He’d have to earn his way
back in. Pete just laid there. I had to help
the guy into his truck and drive him back
here. He’s been sick as a dog ever sense
and won't go to the doctor. Keeps saying he
needs to go back to Kal’ara. The sun hurts
his eyes. It’s like a heroin addict coming
down. Real scary shit. Worst part is that I
want to go back too. I dream about Kal’ara

and being it’s glorious champion. Pete
though, he’s ruined. His wounds have
mostly healed but he can’t stay awake and
gets worse every day. Won't see a doctor.
Just wants me to take him to Kal’ara. Says
he has to become a Berserker. Whatever
the fuck that means.”
Bill took note of all of this in detail,
“Maybe there was something in the wine?
Cocaine or some other stimulant that’s
addictive?”
“I think it’s the pussy.”
“What?”
“All those girls dragging men out
there. They get the girls when they win. Part
of the prize. Winners of the girls fights fuck
the winners of the guys fights. It’s like some
big victory orgy inside their cave temple
place according to Pete.”
“Can we speak with Pete please?”
“He’s gunna be unconscious. I’m
telling you he’s not going to be awake,” He
wiped his face with his t-shirt to remove the
dripping sweat, “Fucking hell I can’t stop
sweating sense we came back from that
damned place.”
“Please. If we talk to Pete we might
be able to get more information from the cult
when we visit.”
“No. After talking to Pete you won’t
want to visit. Once you see what they've
done to him you’ll want to just turn around
and leave,” Ned stood and moved for the
back of the kitchen where there were stairs
leading down to the basement. He motioned
for Bill and Jonny to follow. They did. Down
the creaky stairs in a room that was hardly
lit even with the light on Bill and Jonny
watched as Ned shook a man who was
lying directly on the cement floor, “Pete
wake up,” Ned said but there was nothing.
After a few more attempts to shake Pete
awake, Ned knelt next to him and checked
his pulse. Ned’s previously reddened skin
went flush. His posture changed to one
more demised and he tearfully turned to Bill
and Jonny, “There’s no pulse.”
“We need to call an ambulance,”
Jonny said scrambling up the stairs. He
rushed out to the street to find the house
number and street name so that he could
get help. But help would do nothing. Pete
was declared dead on the scene and Ned
was taken to the hospital for examination.
The police interviewed Jonny and Bill but
found no reason to keep them or prosecute
for any cause so they let them go. By eight
PM the duo, mentally exhausted, retired to
their motel.
***
That night Bill had trouble sleeping.
The other cults he’d investigated had their
own kinds of intensity but none had been
like this. When he’d seen Pete and Ned it
almost looked like the two were recovering
from an addiction. He’d seen alcoholics take
a week or more to come down and start
feeling like normal people again. In Albany
he’d been chased out of a small temple in
the woods and in Nebraska he’d been
threatened consistently. These glyphs or
sigils, or whatever they were had been
popping up all over the world. They were
showing up in the background of news
articles and occasionally on bodies found in
all variety of places. Increasingly high
numbers of people were seeking help to get

their family members out of the cults in
online forums. The only similarity between
all the cults was that some point or another
there was offered animal of often times
human blood. It racked Bill's mind trying to
figure out how the cults could be so
widespread and yet seem so unknown to
society. He was fascinated by them.
Jonny was tossing all night. His body
was overheating like he had a fever but it
was really just the dark light of his
dreamscape. Images of battling in a cage
that repeatedly awakened him with the
horrific detail of bludgeoning and baseball
bat battles. He shuddered at the joys of
blood victory on red sands he’d never
before seen. Still, after the carnage had
ended and dawn arose, Jonny felt a call to
battle that hadn’t existed since he’d played
football in high school.
In the morning Bill and Jonny
commented to each other about how awful
the hotel beds were and how either had
gotten sleep because of it. They didn’t talk
about much else as they ate their free motel
breakfast buffet and then left in the rental
sedan to meet with Matthew at eleven. Both
men wondered if eachother had shaken
nerves over finding Pete dead the day
before but they both declined to comment
on it. Talking may have convinced them to
retreat from their task.
***
Matthew was over eager. He no
longer seemed to hide his want in removing
his son from the clutches of the Kal’ara cult.
Matthew brought with him his M1911 after
arguing with Bill that he was going to bring a
few rifles. After Bill noted the increased
difficulty in passing though a border with
firearms Matthew resigned to only bringing
the M1911 pistol and had said he’d only use
it if they were threatened. BIll hoped
Matthew was just paranoid.
After the near speechless three hour
drive south into rural Mexico the Matthew
slowed his truck on a long empty road and
began looking for the path to Kal’ara. It was
a rocky, bumpy, path and Matthew had to
backtrack twice because he thought he was
going in the wrong direction. By the time
they actually found the desolate metal
fighting ring they’d been in the desert for
over two hours. Even with the air
conditioning of Matthew's old Ford F250 the
desert heat was stifling. The creaky shocks
of the rusted truck were the only music out
there as radio stations didn’t broadcast to
places with no people.
When they did finally find the fighting
ring it they were in a desolate place with
very little signs that humans were around. If
someone was living nearby they were very
clean people who kept hidden. Around the
large circle fencing were tracks from the
tires of the spectator vehicles, footprints,
and blotches of maroon sand that were
presumably dried blood spots. It was a
dusty place that even lacked the refreshing
feel of wind. In the direction of the road
they’d turned off of to find this place was a
large hill. Around the ring there were a few
rocky outcrops that didn’t seem large
enough for a cave to be present. One
outcrop did take the shape of a rough cubic
viper head complete with upper and lower
fangs. In the viper's mouth there was a dark
area visible at a distance that could have
been an overhang but was unlikely to be a
cave deeper than a few feet. Someone
could stay there for a night but no person

could make it a home that far out in the
desert. Still the snake head outcrop was the
only lead they had so after meandering
around the ring without any other leads Bill
directed the group in the snake head’s
direction.
It was a good a quick drive over that
back in Michigan wouldn’t have been worth
the gas. But in the heat of the Mexican
summer Bill and Jonny were thankful for
Matthews truck. The mouth of the little cave
was just barely tall enough for two men to
walk through side by side and on the tongue
of the snake there was a heavily traveled
path. The back of the cave was eclipsed by
darkness. Still at this closer distance the
cavern did not look large enough to house
more than one or two people and in that
respect their presence should have been
noticeable but it wasn’t.
“This is the only cave entrance type
thing we’ve seen but I don’t see how
anyone could live here,” said Bill, “It looks
like people travel through here often
though.”
Matthew pulled out his pistol and
start up into the cave.
“I don’t think you need your gun out
for an empty cave,” said Jonny.
Matthew turned around saying,
“Rattlers like the cold. I’d rather shoot a
snake then let em bite me,” then as
Matthew turned a dark figure emerged from
the blackness of the cavern behind him. The
figure moved with horrific malice in
extending its lanky arms over a large rock
and it moved in a fluid motion like a striking
mountain lion clawing at Matthew’s upper
body and pulling him back head first into the
rock face it’d reached out from. There was a
crack but no sound from Matthew as his
body dropped limp to the sandy floor of the
cavern.
Jonny moved for the knife in his
jeans pocket but was stopped as a coarse
palm grasped his arm like a vice. Bill moved
towards the truck, ever the coward, and
turned into the sweaty chest of a man
covered in blown sand which caused his
skin to feel like sandpaper against Bill’s
cheek. Sudden impact coupled with the
immediate salted taste of the strangers
sweat sent Bill stumbling back a few steps
into the cave. The lumbering Red Man
behind Bill was hot from the beat of the sun
on his naked peeling flesh. There were
blisters on the shoulders and arms that
pussed and popped with each movement.
No doubt the wounds of standing as a
hidden guard outside in such hateful heat.
Near behind, to the right, and shorter than
the Red Man were two bulked women with
their once fair skin equally desecrated by
the sun and their muscles tensed in equal
preparation to the Red Man. One of the
women had Jonny’s arm and had begun
pinning him hard against the curved rock
wall of the cavern while the Red Man
grabbed stumbling Bill’s shirt collar and
pulled him forward into the Red Man’s fist. It
was a blackening impact that shook the light
from Bill’s eyes leaving only a blur. He
slumped back knowingly letting himself fall
towards the ground only to feel himself
pulled back put to another fisting. This
second impact left Bill near unconscious. He
couldn’t tell if he was falling or sleeping.
Another jerk pulled him up and he knew his
nightmare was not over. Bill’s face shook
against something hard again. He hoped

the ground. Then he felt to fall until at long
last he felt the crush and scrape of the back
of his head against stone and sand. A
feeling he’d never thought he’d welcome.
Bill tried to keep conscious and look dead
but his mind was too wracked for pretend.
****
Jonny kept his head down as one of
the Red Women stuffed him down a small
entry way at the back of the snake jaw
cavern. He hazily watched the worn and
chipped stone stairs below him pass while
the air changed from achingly hot to a
pleasant cool allowing the sweat on his
body to dry while his captor dragged him
across the floor by placing her hands under
his armpits causing his bottom to hit each
stair with a harsh thud. All the while Jonny
could feel his upper right molar wiggling so
much that he wondered how it was even
kept in place. They passed through many
long winding tunnels with many forks. The
walls were made of carved stone with
engraved sigils and dried red palm prints on
them. There were shrieks in the distance
down one fork that Jonny was pulled away
from. The burned red people that dragged
the group spoke in tongues that Jonny could
not understand. Multiple groups of our or
five people passed him in the tunnels that at
their depth were now wide enough for men
to stand four persons wide comfortably.
When they released Jonny he was in a cell
made of stone with one wall like that of a
cage made from long cross sectioned bones
like the braided ribcage of some large
beast.
Jonny spent a long while drooling on
the cold sandy floor of his cage before he
tried to move. There was a consistent
mumbling of someone with a coarse voice
nearby but he couldn’t tell where the
speaker was. When he fully awakened the
seriousness of his situation set in. Jonny’s
elbows were scraped and his shirt had been
removed. His pants and shoes were still on
but his wallet and knife were missing. The
twisted braided bone door of the cell had no
noticeable way to be opened as it seemed
embedded into both the rock of the ceiling
and the rock of the floor.
“Be with us,” the coarse voice came
again from behind Jonny, “Hold nothing
back,” It was a twisted horrific shell of a
man. His skin was bruised, cut, burned, sun
burned, peeled, boiled, blistered, popped,
pussed, and scared, “Be with us and join
today,” he continued flopping his fat and
broken bottom lip, “for we alone can show
the way,” the man laid in the back corner
motionless.
“Who are you?” Jonny asked
standing and positioning himself near the
bone bar so that he and the stranger were
in opposing corner of their confinement.
The shell of a man slowly rolled his
headd head up and locked his dry eyes with
Jonny, “Another joins us. Pitty pitty. Another
for the berzerkers.”
“Who are you and who the fuck put
us in here?”
“Ha!” the man laughed, “I am dirt. I
have failed Kre. I await only judgement.”
“Who is Kre?”

“Who is Kre?” the man whined, “Kre
is The All God. Bringer of rain, lord of the
blood in your veins. Kre is the purity of rage
and victory.”
or?”
“Is it Kre who has us locked in here
“No, no,” the man said, “Kre is deep
below waiting for proper honors on the
battlefield and a sufficient blood offering to
awaken again.”
Jonny scanned the cuts and bruises
on the dilapidated man’s body, “What
happened to you?”
“I won my conquest but failed in
receiving the mark. My blood was not pure
enough,” he held up the underside of his
right arm revealing a series of sigils cut into
it that were all puffed, green, and oozing
with fluids, “If you cannot bare the marks
you cannot join the cabal.”
Jonny nearly vomited at the sight.
He gagged and wish there had been
enough in his stomach to wretch up but he
hadn’t eaten in hours and so was left to dry
heave while wondering if Bill and Matthew
had met similar fates. After he pulled
himself together he asked the man, “What
are they going to do to me?”
“You will be taken the battle field and
tested before Kre. If worthy you will join us.
If unworthy you will not return.”
“You mean they’ll kill me right? Not
return is just some sugar coated bullshit?”
“Yes. The unworthy die. Either in
battle or,” he sighed, “After.”
“I don’t want to join the cabal.”
“Kre calls on only those who have
the strength to answer.”
“We came here to learn about this
stupid cult. Not join it,” Jonny pushed his
face to the bone bars. He was in denial that
they were made of bone because it just
seemed too unreal. Jonny could tell there
were cages on either side of his but could
not tell if anyone was inside them. He
listened but heard no other sounds of life.
The man chucked, seemed to choke
for a moment, then continued chuckling,
“Tonight you will learn all there is to know.”
***
Hours passed as Jonny lay there not
knowing what happened to Bill. Each
movement caused an eruption of pain from
the loose tooth in Jonny’s mouth. His
regretful decision to come with Bill ate away
at him. First he hurt thinking at a real
bodyguard might have actually been of
some help to Bill but in the head of his self
loathing he repressed those dark thoughts
and lived only in the present. There was no
past or future for him now. The only
certainty in Jonny's life was that he was
alive and he was breathing. That he had a
tooth dangling from some torn fleshy bits in
his mouth annoying and worrying him. He
needed a dentist. Surely he was going to
lose the tooth. He’d known that he realized
it was loose but didn’t want to admit it to
himself. There was a nagging at his
conscience that begged this to all be a
dream or a sham of some kind. His mortal
mind rejected all of his reality, it had to be a
fallacy. Reaching inside his mouth Jonny

grasped the tooth. The whole area exploded
with pain. The tooth had to come out. It was
the only pain he could fix. In his tongue
Jonny had felt that only one root was
holding the tooth in. Reasoning that one
root ripping couldn’t hurt more than a
mangled tooth jangling around he pulled
hard removing the tooth with a gush of
blood and a feeling that a rod had been
shoved through his missing tooth hole
straight up into his eye. He shrieked and
whimpered trying to gather himself. Pain
was good. It distracted from the reality of his
horrific existence.
The desolated body behind him
moved and groaned all the while starting to
repeat the same thing over and over no
matter how much Jonny begged of him to
stop. His coarse dry voice drooled on,
“Come with me and join the pack. Be with
us. Hold nothing back. Be with us and join
today for we alone can show the way. There
is a place of long forgot come and see the
being from which we’re taught. Come with
me and join the pack. Join in blood hold
nothing back. Unleash the bond we hold in
blood and come with me my war wrought
dove,” For hours.
In light of hearing the same
unending loop from the talking corpse in his
cell Jonny almost welcomed the the sight of
the Red Man and the two Red Women
who’d assaulted him at the entrance to the
cavern. The bone barrier retracted, seeming
to shrink itself momentarily at the wave of
the Red Man’s hand and quick utterance of
guttural tongues. Jonny tried to move away
from the Red Man but was quickly snatched
by the shoulders. He spat in the eyes of the
Red Man and struggled while blood mixed
with a small amount of spittle rolled down
the Red Man’s unflinching face. One of the
women bagged Jonny’s head with a brown
sack and other other tied his hands behind
his back with twine. Jonny cursed them as
they dragged him out of the cell towards
unseeable end.
The bag over Jonny’s head was thin
enough so that he could see the outlines of
the winding tunnels they passed through
with much haste that it seemed his captors
were making wrong turns or perhaps taking
long routes through the labyrinth to confuse
Jonny and ensure he could not find it way
back. Four times he thought they’d passed
the same group of figured praying in the
dark. Once from the back, the side, the
front, and then the side again before being
pulled up a staircase and joined by four
more men with sacks over their heads too.
One of the other captives dropped limp and
was dragged by his captor for a few feet
before the captor turned around, kicked him,
and told him that if he was going to cry and
give up before the proving that he would
displease Kre and that would land him in
certain death. With that the man stood and
followed giving little resistance other than
the tears he still shed. Jonny first thought
the man to be Bill but Bill was taller and
didn’t have as deep of a voice.
Another captive, possibly Matthew
by the sound of their voice, cursed at his
captors following behind Jonny in a narrow
tunnel. Matthew’s comments were met with
furious fists that left Matthew howling in pain
before being shoved forward. After passing
through a tunnel so narrow that Jonny’s
shoulders touched either side at once he
found himself being shoved down a wide
tunnel with more followers of Kre and still
furthermore captives. Then he could tell he

as being pushed back out the mouth of the
snake head outcrop and then marched back
towards the desert cage in the black of the
desert night with only the stars above to
glimmer their brightness lighting the desert
landscape. In the shuffling darkness Jonny
could hardly make out the space around
him but knew by the sounds of the engines
and booming music playing that there was a
crowed gathered. He was moved through its
outskirt and spat on more than once before
being pushed out into the fighting area as
the sack was removed from his head.
The headlights of the surrounding
cars momentarily blinded Jonny. The
screaming crowd quieted, the music with it,
and a tall man stood in the center of the
fighting area. Jonny moved forward thinking
that he was meant to enter the middle of the
ring for some horrid combat. He breathed
deep and readied himself for a fight when
tight hands grabbed him and pulled him
back to the fencing. Two men tied Jonny to
the fence with belts across his wrists telling
him, “Not yet.”
****
Even at night the desert was hot. Bill
was unsure of his situation. He hadn’t been
in a fight since grade school when another
kid had pushed him for no reason. Even
back then he was ill prepared for battle.
Now he was placed in a ring, in the desert,
with a naked cut up man in it’s center
screaming in dark tongues. The crowd
cheers three hundred strong with each
pause of the speaker's voice. Beyond the
speaker was Matthew, equally stripped to
his pants and shoes like Bill was. Matthew’s
bells stuck out and his hairy tits sagged
catching the beams of the headlights
around the ring, “Phil!” Matthew shouted, his
throat was so dry you could hear it, “Phil
stop this! It’s not you my boy!”
Phil, in the center of the ring, held
two objects above his head. One a pistol,
the other a pen, he shouted, “Blood of my
past has entered the ring! Shall the father
honor Kre as the son has or fall to the decay
of defeat! Each man get’s the weapons they
brought to sunder our righteous lands!” Phil
turned and hastily made way to Bill
extending the pen to him with an open palm.
It was Bill’s pen. The one he’d taken notes
with for years. A hard copper pen with
refillable inks. Being close to Phil was
horrific. His wounds were all open and
somehow not bleeding. What had
apparently started as a series of ceremonial
cuts along his forearm were now wet
wounds that went up his right arm to his
shoulder and were stretching across his
chest. Some lines even moved up Phil’s
neck with depths that seem impossible.
Bill took the pen while eyeing the
pistol, “Why are you doing this?” he said.
When Phil spoke as close distance it
could be seen that Phil’s teeth were nearly
all missing. All that remained in his mouth
were his upper canines giving Phil the look
of a snake man, “You are here because you
answered the call of Kre as I answered the
call of Kre. No one enters without Kre’s
blessing. No one leaves without Kre’s
payment.”
“What payment?”
“Battle and blood feed Kre as we
would drink water,” Phil said walking away
towards Matthew.

“I just wanted a fucking interview!”
Bill shouted. He looked around him. Jonny
was strapped to the fencing with a group of
other men and one women. The crowd
looked like semi normal everyday people
aside from the sparsely spread burned red
men and women.
Kre- Blood god
Guy in cell with them or found in desert
or something, he’s got the scar on his
arm like phil but it’s infected, he says
he’s not worthy.
Tech Cult that they visit later, after this
where Bill convinces Jonny to go
because he doesn’t want to go alone and
needs someone who believes in this
stuff.
Tech cult has people making cybernetic
enhancements to become one with the
eternal god of electricity and technology
Gathering berzerkers to destroy the
Serinites
Watch follower of the sea god being
brought out to be challanged by the
berzerkers and test his faith against
theirs in a trial by combat, tentical face
attach, berzerker cuts their head off,
pulls off tenticals, looses eye, cheers for
vistory!
CHANT “Come with me and join the
pack. Be with us. Hold nothing back. Be
with us and join today for we alone can
show the way. There is a place of long
forgot come and see the being from
which we’re taught. Come with me and
join the pack. Join in blood hold nothing
back. Unleash the bond we hold in blood
and come with me my war wrought
dove.”
Kal’ara
ADD PART WHERE BILL SEE”S PHILL
KILL SOMEONE WHO CHALLANGES
HIM AS CHAMPION
The challanger moved with a
quickness Bill hadn’t seen before. He
fliped and kicked in an extream display
of his athletic prowess. Phill was still
and silent on the other side of the ring.
His face grew slightly redder as he
approched the challanger. The
Challanger haulted his display and
righted his body in a defencive position
preparing for Phills assult. Phill’s arm
seeemed to almost glow, then bleed and
he breathed harder started to pcik upi
his pace to charge the challanger. The
challanger breathed deep and seemed
focused on Phill. There in that moment
both men existed in a world wholely of
their own. Phill puched with his left fist,
the challanger dodged and attempted
striking at Phill’s head with a rounded
kick that Phill ducked under. After
exchanging afew more near misses
Phill’s right arm, which he hadn’t yet
attacked with was soaked with blood
that’d oozed from his ceremonial scars.
The challanger roared forward with a
kick that missed and followed with a
stone fist to Phill’s unyeilding
midsection. Phill shifted squaring
himself with the Challanger and finally

stuck with his right fist. On impact with
the Challangers forehead blood flung
from Phill’s arm spraying around the
face and neck of the challanger. The heat
of the blood seemed to burn into the
Challanger causing him to fall sceaming
and holing his face. It looked like acid
had been splashed across his skin
forming little black pores that dug down
through the Challanger’s body. The
crowd roared while the blood on Phill’s
arm looked to be seeping back into him.
Phill resigned the battlefield with the
same calm intensity he’d entered with
and no remorse for the screams of the
slowly dying challanger.