Way of The Beast

Prologue

Robert Kinley sat in his locker room, silently wrapping his hands as his coach and crew stood outside the door. His mind wasn’t focused on the fight ahead, only the memories that flew through his mind. Flashing lights and sirens. Adrenaline and rapid heartbeats. An unforgivable argument and a knock on the door.

The man, a heavyweight in the fighting world, let out a heavy sigh as he finished. He let his hands fall and his head hung. “Yo!” The man jolted as fists rapped against the door leading to the outside. “The match starts in two minutes! Are you ready or not!”

“I’m coming!” He answered, a growl stirring in his voice as he glared at the door. “Damn….” The man shook his head and stood to his feet, taking his gloves from the bench next to him and slipping them on. Wordlessly, he turned to the door and made his way out. The door opened with a click and he stepped out, seeing his three-man crew… but not his coach.

“Where's Ross?” He questioned, looking to each of the men.

“Said he’d meet us at the cage,” his medic spoke up. “Not sure what that's all about, though.”

The pro grunted before rolling his shoulders. “Then let's go,” he rumbled, starting to walk down the hall. His entourage fell in line behind him, the group falling into silence. Slowly, the sound of the roaring crowd reached their ears and before long they stepped out into the stadium.

The fighter's ears tuned out the screaming audience and music of his intro song. Instead, his gaze raced towards the cage, spotting his coach with his back turned to them. A huff left the man's nostrils before he turned his back on the older gentleman. Kinley continued to drown the crowd out as he held arms out, feeling hands pat him down before the smell of vaseline hit his nose. He gave a nod before he took the steps into the arena, the chain-link door closing behind him. He was silent as he bit down on his mouth guard, steely eyes watching his opponent enter the cage.

The younger man returned his adversary's look, a little gleam dancing through his stormy blue eyes as he gave a confident smirk. Kinley's nose scrunched up, the roar of the crowd crashing into his ears as the voice of the announcer boomed out. "Fighting out of the red corner, Joel 'The Storm' Victor!" The volume raged upwards as Joel raised his gloved fist into the air, bobbing his closely shaved blond head. Kinley glared harder before the announcer roared out once more. "And, fighting out of the blue corner, Bob 'The Beast' Kinley!"

The Beast snarled at his opponent, forest green eyes burning. He already knew how this fight would end before it ever even began….

Bob sat with his eyes half-closed, staring at the wall as the medic continued working on him. He breathed through his mouth to save his broken nose, blood occasionally dripping onto his chin from the split lip. His left ear still rang quietly as he refrained from rolling his throbbing shoulder. To say he looked like hell was an understatement.

It didn't help that Ross was stomping back and forth while yelling at the top of his lungs. "-and the fucking throw, that was fucking disgusting!" The coach shouted, finally turning his raging yellow gaze on the fighter. "What the hell were you thinking!?"

Bob looked up, his face startling calm. "You know what I was thinking, Ross."

The shorter man stared down at his trainer, the vein in his neck popping out as his face turned red. "All of you," he growled in a low, even voice, pointing towards the door. "GET THE FUCK OUT!!!" The entire team, who had been standing back and avoiding eye contact, rushed out of the room in an instant, even the medic scrambling after them.

Bob watched them leave before he turned back to Ross as the man let out a heated sigh. “You took their money,” was all the older man said as he crossed his arms, the steam coming off him betraying his calm expression.

“Yeah,” the fighter answered without blinking.

The coach’s eyebrow twitched. “How. Fucking. Dare. You,” he growled angrily.

Bob looked away, a sigh escaping him. “What do you want me to do, Ross?” He asked, his shoulders slumping. “I’ve lost every fight since I’ve come back. I just… I just can’t win. At least this way, I’ll get something out of it.” The man looked back up at his coach, Ross looking up towards the ceiling while shaking his head.

“That’s it then?” The red-faced elder questioned, looking down at him. “You’re just selling out?” Silence fell as the ex-champion refused to answer, causing Ross’ anger to grow. “...Fine then,” he murmured before starting to make his way to the door. “If that’s the case, I quit.” Bob said nothing as his mentor and oldest friend walked towards the door.

“Elana would be so disappointed.” The Beast only just had time to look up before the door slammed shut, leaving him completely alone with the sound of screaming sirens in his head. His widened eyes drifted towards the floor, his head bowing as his mind was engulfed in painful memories.

There was no telling how much time had passed before another voice spoke up in the room. “Quite the tongue on that old man.” Bob lifted his gaze with a start at the sound of the slightly rough voice. At the other side of the room, a man in a black leather jacket, cargo pants, and combat boots leaned against one of the lockers, a cigarette flaring between his lips as a glint came off the hilt of the sword over his shoulder.

“Who the hell are you?” Kinley rumbled, getting to his feet quickly and raising his fists, ignoring the protest of his shoulder and ankle.

The black-haired man raised his empty hand calmly as he used his other to remove his cigarette, blowing a cloud of smoke as purple eyes studied the fighter. “Name’s Soldier,” the grizzled stranger answered, putting the smoke out with the tip of his finger. “Odd, yeah, but that’s what I’m called and that’s what I’ll keep introducing myself as.”

“What do you want?”

“You.”

Bob froze at the bluntness of the answer. He searched the man, looking for any sign of a joke or jest, but one look at the stern features told him all he needed. “The hell does that mean?” The Beast asked as he raised his fists higher, body tensing.

“It means,” Soldier answered, straightening up and starting forward. “I need your help, and you can’t refuse my offer.”

The ex-champ raised an eyebrow, slowly lowering his hands as the other man stopped. “...Need my help for what?” He asked cautiously, once again searching the man.

Soldier put his hands in his jacket pockets and cocked his head a bit. “There’s a little girl I’ve been keeping an eye on,” he began to explain, catching the martial artist’s attention. “She hasn’t been the best off, but she’s done well given her situation. However, things are about to get very dicey for her and I’d rather she didn’t get hurt. I want you to watch and take care of her.”

Bob narrowed his eyes. This sounded like the plot of a bad 90s movie. “Why me?”

“Because,” the stranger answered, not taking his eyes off the green-eyed man. “You’re a very accomplished fighter, twenty-three wins seven loses-”

“In a row.”

“Ex-military-”

“Dishonorable discharge.”

“And!” Soldier barked loudly, clearly tired of being interrupted. “You’re a father.”

Bob stopped at that, his angry frown falling alongside his gaze. “...Not anymore.”

“You never stop being a father!” Soldier reprimanded, drawing the man’s eyes back to his own. “You may have lost a lot of things over the last few years, but not that. You can never lose that.” Kinley was shocked into silence at that, his gaze blurring as he focused outside of reality.

“...What the hell is this?” The worn-out fighter asked, a tired sigh escaping him.

“It’s a second chance.” Bob looked up at the stranger. “One you desperately need. ...I’ve been watching you very closely Robert. A few weeks ago, you bought a gun. You bought one box of ammo. You put a single bullet into the clip.” Kinley’s eyes widened as he took a step back. “You plan to waste your life on nothing… and I am asking you to give your life to help someone else’s.”

Bob the Beast stared at the darkened figure, his mind racing through everything single thought he’d had for the last few months. He could feel the weight crashing down on him, all of his thoughts and intentions laid bare in front of him. With a sigh, he looked into purple, shifting eyes. “...How are we doing this?”

“You’ll be going very far away,” Soldier answered, his hands coming out of his pockets. “Very far. And you’ll never be coming back. On top of that, you’ll be needing a bit of a makeover.”

Bob let out a sigh, closing his eyes and nodding his head. “Okay,” he muttered, looking back up. “I only have one request.” Soldier gave a little nod and he continued. “You have to make sure my wife gets everything. I want her to live a comfortable life.”

“It’ll be just as your will entails,” the stranger intoned. “You’ll be found, deceased, in three days, and your wife, Selena, will inherit all of your earthly belongings.”

The tired fighter let out one last sigh and nodded. “Let’s do this, then.” Soldier nodded in return and tossed a green pendant towards the man.

“You’ll find yourself in a city called Canterlot,” the black-haired man informed as Bob caught the pendant in his hands. “The girl you’re looking for is called Sunset Shimmer. Find her quickly and protect her at all costs. I’ll be in touch. Good luck.”

Before he could open his mouth to question, Robert “The Beast” Kinley felt the ground give out below him, darkness swallowing him up as green light shone around him.

The walk to her front door was silent. It always was nowadays. With all of her family either dead or missing, Lynette had learned to become accustomed to the silence of loneliness. She barely bothered to look at her garden as she walked the path to the door, focusing instead on simply getting inside and getting ready for a nice, long sleep.

She had to go into work tomorrow, finally, after so long of being given leave. Admittedly she had requested the full 30 days of it, but she had to admit the silence and emptiness of being back home with none of her relatives around had been grating on her more and more.

Reaching the door, she fished her keys out of her pocket and, after finding the right key, jammed it into the lock. After unlocking the door, she opened it and stepped inside the darkness of her house.

Sighing as if the weight of the world had been taken off of her shoulders, she took off her coat and placed it on the coat rack, until she heard a curious sound.

‘Is that...footsteps?’ Mouth setting itself into a thin line, Lynette unholstered her standard-issue M9 and cautiously, quietly followed the sound. Seeing light coming from her living room, she frowned and furrowed her brow as she perked her ears up to listen intently. ‘No sounds of glass breaking.’ She waited for a beat. ‘No more footsteps either. Either they know I’m here, or are waiting for me. Likely both.’ Her frown deepened. ‘How did they get in? My security alarms should have gone off and alerted me via my phone...Which means they’re either an experienced thief or an experienced and well-paid merc...or an insurgent. I’ll have to play this carefully. They’re likely waiting for me, which means there’s a good chance they want to discuss something...that gets rid of the thief idea.’ She shook her head. ‘Either way, I can’t sit here and analyze all night. I’ll have to play this by ear for now and just go in.’

With that decision, Lynette walked towards the living room and, turning a corner, saw a man with snow-white hair and a black fedora and trench coat sitting patiently on her couch, and in front of him, on the coffee table, was the antique cavalry saber she’d gotten fifteen years ago after a tour in Britain.

The man smiled as he regarded her with his icy blue eyes. “Ah, you’re finally home. Apologies for barging in,” he said politely.

Lynette, ever to the point, asked, “Who are you, why are you in my house, and what do you want?” She kept her gun pointed at his head, ready to blow a hole in it if he made even one wrong move.

The man’s smile never wavered as he performed an oddly masterful sitting bow, “Antiquarian is my name, ma’am. I came here because I’d heard you had quite a nice antique, and, lo and behold, you did.” He gestured to the saber. “I simply wish to ask if you’d let me have it.”

‘Antiquarian? An alias? Part of an act? Or both? Either way, if he’s acting, he following the role his name gives him well, so far.’ Lynette mused. “I’m not partial to lies, much less by people who sneak around into others homes.” She cocked her gun. “What. Do you. Want.”

Antiquarian chuckled. “I’ve already said what I want. Your saber.”

“Then I decline. Now leave.”

Antiquarian frowned. “Well, I could hardly do that after having come all this way.”

‘All this way?’ Lynette looked him over. ‘He looks Caucasian, which means he’s either from somewhere here in America or one of the other Caucasian countries. Still, I shouldn’t completely rule out the possibility of him being one of the rare ones to live in another country.’

Antiquarian interrupted her thoughts. “How about a trade? You give me your saber, and I,” He smiled. “Will give you the chance to see your family again.”

Lynette froze for a split second, before growling. “I already told you I dislike lies. Are you trying to make your situation worse?”

Antiquarian hummed, cupping his chin. “I see that you’ll need some proof first, then. Alright.” He snapped his fingers, and suddenly what could only be described as a window in time and space appeared with a startling image on its other end.

“...Lucette…?” Lynette said quietly to herself, slowly lowering her gun. The person shown did look different, but Lynette could recognize the hairstyle, facial structure, and eyes anywhere. The strange thing was that she had pale-blue skin, and her eyes glowed, but… Lynette rapidly shook her head and retrained her gun on the man’s head. “How did you do that? Holograph tech?”

Antiquarian chuckled. “Not at all, ma’am. Just simple Void Magic.” He smiled at her. “So? How about it? Will you take the deal?”

Lynette faltered. She scanned the room as much as she could with her eyes, but she saw nothing that could be projecting the ‘hologram’. She didn’t recall being drugged at any point, nor drinking or eating anything laced with a drug. No matter how she tried to reason, she could not find an explanation or way to refute what she was seeing. Slowly, ever so slowly she lowered her gun again.

‘This can’t be real. And if it is, does that mean that Devils and Demons are real? That’s the only explanation I can think of…’ She bit her lip, looking to the window of space-time where her niece was chatting amicably with someone unseen. ‘It’s been so long since I’ve seen her...or any of them…’

Gradually, her defenses went down, and eventually, Lynette caved. “...I’ll do it on one condition.” She turned to him, steel in her eyes. “I want it in writing.”

The Antiquarian’s smile grew. “A woman after my own heart,” he said, making a shiver run down Lynette’s spine. Snapping his fingers, a piece of aged parchment appeared in front of her, complete with all the legal bindings of any typical contract and a quill and inkwell.

Staring at the floating objects, Lynette could only sigh and try to brush off the absurdity as she took the quill, dipped it in ink, and looked over the contract. ‘Everything seems right…’ She reasoned eventually before she signed her name on it.

In an instant, the contract’s words glowed golden, and Lynette stumbled as her vision swam, dropping her gun.

“Excellent! The deal is struck, then! Do take care, ma’am,” Antiquarian said. The last thing the woman saw was his smile, and the saber floating into his hand before she blacked out and hit the floor with a thud.

Author's Note

Please visit the co-author of this story, Timeless Lord Slayer. Give him some supprot!