Jeux sans frontieres

[Buko]

((Continued From: Fighting For Something You Already Lost ))

Jonathan Michaels. Jonathan Michaels first started his life off as the youngest son out of five older brothers who where all involved in sports. Jonathan was always the odd ball in the family, he was the smallest brother and took no particular interest in team sports, preferring to go into the rather individual oriented world of boxing, coincidently Jonathan was the only one of the kids to be successful in boxing and while he was the youngest brothers, he found his four older brothers the ones who where tagging along with him, eventually though the trip of fun ended when Jonathan was sent to the hospital by running into a car he thought was Jesus, so Jonathan and his junkie siblings went to get clean with Jonathan the only one succeeding and so he was out on his own again, simply living his days in an existence that he hated, till about half an hour ago (although it seemed like an lifetime ago) he had become a killer.

And he had the aching and bleeding head to constantly remind of it. The fight with An Linh was freshly in his mind, the only thing even more vivid was that not only was he a murderer in the American peoples eyes, he was also a pussy who got his ass handed to him by a girl. And still what Jonathan Michaels' still couldn't get himself to understand was, why? Why hadn't he taken more time to contemplate what to do with Chad? Maybe he, Chad, and An Linh would have an alliance right now and the whole PR disaster that was his time in the forest would disappear. What plagued Jonathan the most was this: Had he been such an inaccessible douche bag that he knew that no matter what he was doomed to go the path of the killer? How distrustful in humanity, how distrustful of yourself did you have to be to think like that?

He made a living beating the crap out of people, giving brain damage to countless amounts of old men who knew nothing but fighting, Jonathan had been nothing but a taker his whole life. Destroying was the only way he knew how to live and he had just started a rampage of destruction at this very moment.

Brad Wilson found himself walking through the cliffs, the red eyes narrowing as the bag was slung on his shoulder.  His reaction to this SOTF was once again regarded with a strong sense of apathy, he had a will to survive, but was more or less focused on taking in the scenery and hiding rather than going out and fighting to the death, not that he could with sleeping pills. But, he figured as much: Jack O' Conner made it through this game by boarding himself inside a warehouse and playing street fighter, Brad Wilson could hide in a mountain. Brad Wilson's thoughts however turned to those who where playing the game, perhaps Jim Greynolds would find him and save him? And perhaps that line could become a little less gay.

Not likely though.

Brad laughed at his own musing as his eyes narrowed, there was a figure approaching him, it was running from something, and rubbing it's head.  A weaker player? Could Brad take him out in a round of fist to cuffs? Doubtful. Brad would not dirty his hands in this game, it was beneath him, however maybe a little slave boy? Brad went to his backpack and pulled out a folder and then pulled out a sheet of paper, it was colorful in design with an intricate and psychedelic art scheme, four hundred was the magic number, four hundred doses of LSD, with a typical trip lasting six hours, it would be simple to slip it into this boys water, perhaps with verbal methods.

Was this mean? Yes. Was it necessary for Brad's survival? Totally.

Brad's eyes showed an evident change in demeanor as he was greeted with Jonathan Michaels, more so how he was greeted by Jonathan Michaels with a shotgun. Jonathan however did not share the same amount of happiness as he visibly was shown angrier with the introduction of Brad Wilson.

"I'm not in the mood Brad, I've already killed, the last thing either of us wants..."

Brad seemed to ponder this, which surprised Jon, he wasn't used to a calmer Brad Wilson and it was definably a relief, however if Jonathan was relaxed even in the slightest he didn't show it. His head felt like a time bomb, with every digit going downward echoing his head like the sound of a Death Metal bands bass guitar at five thousand decibels.

"How about we sit down, I give you some water and we talk about what happened Michaels, having you as an enemy is not something I would enjoy." Brad said calmly , Jon simply shook his head. And obeyed Brad's wishes, sighing greatly as he sat down upon the grassy landscape of the cliffs. Bead turned around to his bag and began fiddling with it, possibly getting the water out in order for Jon to drink it.

"Well, I blew a kids brains out and the next thing I know An Linh is coming out of nowhere kicking my ass. It was just like one of those what the fuck moments and I felt like shit man, straight up. So yeah, I fucking manage to get her off me and this bag won't fucking open up...like a fucking deranged mental patient or something and it just fucking sucked big time, y'know? So An Linh comes and fucking beats me like a red headed step child, I mean she drew blood with a punch dude...and I'm a fucking boxer so I know how to take a hit, it was just like...fucking crazy...totally...crazy..." Jon was pausing in between sentences, closing his eyes, the headache was massive, crippling, ball busting.

Whilst Jon was ranting though Brad was carefully slipping in a thing of LSD into his drink. Six hours of Jonathan hallucinating, a delusional meat shield, excellent.

"Here, drink some water Jon..." Brad said handing him the bottle, Jonathan chugged the entire thing (an ability he had mastered with vodka) and sighed, the world itself began to fade out, the colors more accentuated, he was calm, he was calm.

Then he saw Brad. But, Brad was no longer Brad, he was a Brad that was covered in maggots, a Brad that was covered in snakes. Jonathan looked at him and screamed in horror. Brad neared Jonathan in an attempted to calm him down, Jonathan grabbed his hand, Brad's eyes widened.

CRACK!

Brad's arm was broken immediately and instinctually Brad began screaming, he kicked Jon in the shins, but Jon wouldn't let go, the snakes where wrapping around his arm as Brad flailed, but Jonathan's grip remained true. As Jon looked at Brad sickly, with anger, with fear, Brad continued to scream, but Jonathan showed a new resolve.

"I...Will...Kill...You...Foul...Beast..." Jonathan muttered silently, Brad just looked at Jonathan incredulously, he had slipped into a bad trip so easily, it was insane.

"You idiot it's me, Brad Wilson..."

"REMOVE ME FROM YOUR GRASP FOUL HYDRA!" Jonathan shouted before kicking Brad hard in the knee cap, you could see it appear reversed on the back of his leg, as Brad found himself crippled unto the ground. Jonathan's eyes never left him as quickly the Hydra he was fighting before transformed into Chad Munteanu. Brad's face turning into Chad's.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Jonathan jumped onto Brad and started clawing his face, ripping off chunks of hair and skin, in a furious dance, anger and fear mixing into one. But, slowly Jonathan regained control. The trip faded out, it was a short one, possibly because of Jonathan's tolerance of LSD along with a diluted source, but Jonathan found himself staring at the mangled body of Brad Wilson, Brad was naked now, with patches of skin missing, his face had it the worse, bruised and battered, a broken arm, a caved in chest, and a reversed knee cap. Jonathan's eyes just narrowed at him as his hands found the shotgun.

"You're in pain, eh? Well you know...fuck that! Jonathan screamed, "I will not buy into this fucking game, I will not get off on this shit, I will not suffer this BULLSHIT!", Brad whimpered at Jonathan who continued to yell "I'm not going to let this game drive me insane, I refuse to suffer at it's hands and I REFUSE to be a servant to an addiction to killing..."

Brad's breathing became heavier and the whimpers and soft sobbing could be distinctly heard by Jonathan Michaels, who simply shook his head and sighed. He pointed the Saiga-12 at Brad, the weaker boy closed his eyes, but found himself loosing all resolve as his head was blown up to oblivion by the shotguns explosive wake. Jonathan looked at himself, his shirt was ripped and bloody, there where some scratches, proving that Brad had struggled in futility a bit. Jonathan however was tired as he walked away from the cliffs, he would not play into this game anymore...he had to find shelter, he had to plan his next action.

"Jeux sans frontieres" Jon muttered, before slipping off the hoodie to reveal a white undershirt, the tank-top showed off his muscles, but served little protection. The strap of the duffel bag dug into his shoulder, but Jonathan simply dealt with the pain. And with a wince he ran off away from the cliffs.

BRAD WILSON-DECEASED

((Continued in: Rebirth))