The Land of the Rising Sun was a nice change of pace. The culture here is much different compared to the insufferable American and high-energy Mexican cultures. The people tended to shun foreigners, much like the other cultures, but they were a little more closed off. Didn’t help that the streets were almost barren. Not a soul in sight. The old warrior would enjoy the crisp air and the stillness of the world, but the new warrior was hungry and craving his desired meal, and those were scarce that night. He rolled his neck, cracking out some stiffness.
The match had taken it out of him and he hasn’t been able to recuperate his strength. Sokolov is a formidable warrior, it doesn't matter if his bloodline is still pure. The Russian could stand toe to toe with a vampire and he barely even flinched. If it wasn’t for the aid of the supernatural, Bold would have lost that fight. His fortunes had turned around, and it was all thanks to THNG, the weird vampire at Sokolov’s side.
The Mongolian pulled out the ring he won, toying with it in his fingers. He would use it at an opportune moment, enough to capitalize on the foe, give them time to prepare and strike when most expected. No need to strike from the shadows, let them prepare themselves. Hell, at the current moment, he didn’t need to use it because a bruised and almost destroyed Salora Valinas was right there waiting for him, the Submission Title on the line. Her feud with Takuma Sato had laid waste to her body and spirit, her arm shattered from the onslaught. She no longer had the advantage of fighting in front of her tribe, they would be on equal ground… well sort of equal.
Khan grimaced, his white fangs shimmering in the night. But right now, he was a prisoner to his curse, given free reign to roam during the curfew, but unable to staunch the pangs of hunger in his flesh and bones. The wrestling world knew of his new lineage, thus he couldn’t go draining random individuals. He had to find someone worthy or someone that society wouldn’t miss to feed the beast.
He pounded his hand into the wall next to him. The wood splintered, leaving a fist-sized crater in the structure, shaking its very foundation. A pale ash-like dust fell like snow onto the bald Mongolian. He tilted his head up, gazing at the silvery night, where the full moon sat majestically in the sky. His eyes turned inwards to the window on the wall. He could see an older Japanese man, sleeping blissfully, un-awakened from the recent blow to his home.
The Mongolian continued to watch the man sleep. How frail, nobody would even miss him. He could be dead tomorrow, just by natural causes themselves, or suffer a heart attack and perish that way. With how old he is, it wouldn’t be that much amiss if he were to pass away tonight, even to quench the vampire’s thirst. It would be easy to slay the man, drink his blood, and rejuvenate the warrior spirit. Suddenly the coughing and crying of a young child filled the air of the house. The man stirred slightly in his sleep. A light turned on within the home, and the shadow of a woman crossed the doorway into another room, going to comfort their coughing child. Unfortunately, the rise of Blovid-13 makes that impossible as nobody would willingly allow him to enter their domain.
The warrior continued down the road, his black leather trench coat covering him in the shroud of darkness. He stumbled upon a bar, closed due to regulations due to the rising epidemic and possibly future pandemic. The lights were off, the doors barred, but there was a note on a notice board. The Mongolian looked at it closely, reading the contents carefully. The vampire easily deduced that the message was in code and that some individuals were breaking curfew. People who were struggling with the thought of being alone, and needed an escape from their boring lives. The past warrior would have chuckled, thinking about how this would be similar to how the isolationism laws of the country match these individuals, but the current hungering undead could only manage a weak smile, before moving on to his potential prey.
It didn’t take long to get to the Agikaga District by walking. The undead warrior continued down the street, taking in every sound, the chirp of crickets, the light whistle of the wind, the hum of many radiators warming the homes of the civilians, the drone of electricity powering their homes, the tap of each step down the asphalt street, clack… clack… clack… clack… clack… The sound of sirens filled the air, closing in quickly. Khan quickly pushed himself into a dark alley filled with week-old fish carcasses. He watched intently, as one after another, car after car sped past him and up the street from whence he came. Six cars in total until their sirens faded into the distance of the city. The vampire emerged from his hiding hole and continued down the street.
He smelt it first, the smell of freshly drawn blood… human blood. Then he heard the grunts and flesh hitting flesh, before the thud of a body hitting the ground. A smile crept on the famished vampire’s face, fangs shining brightly. He moved quickly to the sounds, happening upon a small shack with a single candlelight shining through the shoddy windows. The door was ajar, leaving just enough light to show the candlelight and the shadows moving within. The Mongolian knocked on the door, and the sound inside went silent. The door inched open a few inches and a rough-looking Japanese man appeared within the crack, looking at the stranger at the door.
Japanese Man: What do you want?
The Mongolian replied in perfect Japanese to the man, showing his hands disarmingly.
Khan: I am here for training. Read about it in the Karagama District on the front doors of the Drunken Turtle Inn. I am alone, and I was not followed.
The man looked over Khan’s shoulder, scanning the distance, making sure he was truthful, returning his vision to the strange man, eyeing him up and down before replying,
Japanese Man: What do you have to offer?
The Mongolian reached into his trench coat and produced a stack of Yen, giving a sly smile, hiding his fangs as much as possible.
Khan: I brought the ante, may I enter?
The man looked hungrily at the stack of cash, before nodding and waving the foreigner inside, unknowingly giving the vampire permission to enter the premises. Khan gave a slight bow to the man before entering the building, taking his shoes off at the entrance, which was customary.
His vision quickly adjusted to the light-filled room, filled with eleven oversized warriors of Japanese society, Sumo wrestlers of varying sizes. There were also three figures stationed in the corner, all clothed in dark colors. The rikishi dojos were shut down due to the government mandate to protect the population from Blovid-13. They were getting stir-crazy despite it only being a few days. They wanted to continue their training despite the settle-in-place mandate. Due to this, they broke the mandate to form an underground sumo ring to continue honing their skills. When the underworld caught wind of this, they realized they could make a profit by blackmailing them if they refused. Honor was discarded with working to become the best rikishi possible with the hopes of training to become a Yokozuna.
Khan bowed towards them, traditionally acknowledging them, before moving to the side and removing his clothing. He wore his traditional Mongolian pants instead of the standard mawashi. If anyone disagreed, they didn’t say anything. They were already into the bouts, one after another, the winner staying in, while the losers lost their ante and went to the back of the line. The antes were small at first, the competitiveness between the rikishi was what was more at stake, but this being underground, the yen needed to make it worthwhile for the hosts.
As Khan was warming up, getting ready for his first bout, he glanced at the hosts directly. Their sleeves were covered, but underneath the cuffs were visible tattoos. They were members of the Yakuza. Khan’s focus was entirely on the three gangsters watching the bouts and making the monetary transfers in the corner. They were capitalizing on the proud warriors bleeding for their art, parasites. One of the men noticed and stood up abruptly.
Yakuza: What are you looking at? How about this? Anyone who beats this foreigner will get a bonus! Make him regret coming here!
He shrugged off the comment, before standing up and entering the dohyō, his time finally had come. His opponent stood ready opposite of him, their knuckles already in the clay. The large Mongolian lowered into a squat, pushing his knuckles into the clay, before springing at his opponent, attacking with his might, pushing heavily into the large sumo’s body, toppling him out of the circle with relative ease. His opponent underestimated him this time, nobody would do the same. Khan took his position again, setting his knuckles down into the dirt, waiting for the next foe to come.
Bout after bout, body after body came to attack the Mongolian, and each fell like a sapling to a woodsman’s ax. Everyone, including Khan, was breathing hard, over-exerted from the constant pushing and fighting with the talented sumotori. One of the rikishi cursed under his breath in Japanese, before standing tall and staring at the foreigner with malice in his eyes.
Sumo: You should leave here, Oni. You have taken our cash, you have taken our pride. Do not dishonor us and take that as well.
The Mongolian looked at the heavy-breathing clay-covered warriors, before standing up straight, taking his knuckles from the floor, and exiting the dohyō. He stepped over to the Yakuza members, reaching his hand out for his earnings.
Khan: My winnings?
Yakuza: Before we give you your winnings, we can offer a challenge, one that can really test your skills, and the earnings will be… much higher.
Khan: Not interested.
The Mongolian watched the Yakuza man shuffle a bit, before flipping through the yen and producing a majority of the stack to the foreigner.
Yakuza: If you have a change of heart, let me know.
Khan: If this is the entry-level, I don’t have high hopes your training would be worthwhile at any stage.
The Mongolian let the venom slip off his tongue, letting the words pierce the ears of those in attendance. He stared hard at the man with the currency, before grabbing it hastily, putting on his jacket, grabbing his boots, and walking out the door. He listened carefully and heard the signs of one of the Yakuza members pulling out their phone. The bait was placed, and the prey had fallen for the trap.
Chuluun didn’t hide his steps, walking leisurely back towards his hotel in the opposite district. Step by step, taking in the sounds of the evening, each sound a delight of the night. With as much cash as the Yakuza lost on him tonight, they cannot let this chance slip past them. The proud warrior felt pained by the words he left the sumotori back in the dojo, the spite and venom causing harm to the proud warriors who fought until there was no fight left. The parasites would pay eventually, and those who would hone their craft in times of strife would be rewarded.
After half an hour of walking, the squeal of tires pierced the stillness of the evening, the foul odor of burning rubber permeating through the air. The undead figure smiled, his delivery had arrived. He turned to face the overpowering brights from the brightly colored Subaru peeling towards him, stopping mere feet from the goliath of a man. All four doors of the sports car swung open as four men emerged from the vehicle. The leader of the group, a burly man with a dragon tattoo winding up his arm, stepped forward first, a wicked grin on his face. He was flanked by two large men who seemed to be twin brothers wearing cut-offs, opposite arms tatted with a fiery blue dragon, and a somewhat short chubby man who seemed to be a rejected sumo wrestler brought up the flank.
Yakuza: You’re in the wrong neighborhood. How about you pay us and we escort you.
Khan turned and looked at them, unmoving as the men approached him. He found himself surrounded by the four Yakuza members. The air was thick with tension as the thugs closed in on the Mongolian. They wielded various weapons of their culture, set to instill fear more so than killing their recipient.
Khan’s eyes gleamed with a predatory glint, assessing the situation with an eerie calmness. Despite his hungered state, his sharp senses detected the subtle movements of the assailants, giving him a distinct advantage. Khan responded with a low chuckle sending shivers down the Yakuza members’ spines.
Khan: It seems I've stumbled upon an interesting crew tonight. But I assure you, that you have bitten off more than you can chew.
With supernatural speed, Khan blended into the bright headlights of the Subaru, evading the Yakuza's attacks with ease. His movements were a dance of shadows and his fangs gleamed as he gracefully incapacitated one Yakuza member after another. The air resonated with the clash of weapons and the desperate cries of the Yakuza. The smell of blood filled the air.
The leader, undeterred, lunged at Khan with a katana in hand, aiming to kill the vampire. Khan deflected quickly with a flick of his wrist, disarming the Thug before effortlessly slamming his skull against the concrete wall, knocking him senseless. The Mongolian grasped the leader’s bleeding skull with his hand in a tight vice, squeezing tightly. Khan whispered, his voice echoing through the streets.
Khan: Now, now, you should have chosen your prey more wisely.
Khan squeezed harder, the points of his fingers digging deep into the human’s skull, draining more and more blood with brute force. Khan brought the man close, sipping the blood as it pooled from the vagrant's lacerated wounds, sating his blood thirst for a moment. He tossed the wounded man to the ground, licking the blood from his grotesque hand.
The remaining Yakuza members hesitated, fear crept into their eyes. With a swift and controlled motion, the Mongolian compelled them to forget the encounter and retreat. The Yakuza stumbled away, disoriented and confused, leaving Khan alone in the brights of the Subaru, covered in his prey’s blood. His predatory gaze lingered on the retreating Yakuza, his hunger still immense. Killing one of these worthless scum could put himself and the entire federation in danger. It was not worth it at this time, they still had a part to play.
Khan walked back towards his hotel, adrenaline pumping through his veins. His head was pounding from the lack of fluids to sustain him. The little sips in the fight were not enough to satisfy his need. He closed his eyes for a moment, stalking through the street, until the flashing of blue and red lights brought him back to reality. His gaze was torn to six police cars, parked strategically around a building. The side of the building looked like it was caved in, not by an explosion, but by brute force. Bold shook his head and looked closely. This was the same house of the elderly man and his family. The building was torn into something massive. Rubble covered the home and police officers were documenting the crime scene thoroughly. What if Khan was seen close to this house, his fist print still engraved in the wood near the grandfather's room? The bodies were already in body bags, lying on the ground. The silhouettes through the bags no longer resembled the correct human shape, their heads missing.
Khan’s sense of smell compelled his weak will to act, moving quickly to the bag, he unzipped the first one, revealing the woman. Without a second thought, he sunk his fangs into the neck of the headless corpse and began to devour the remaining blood from the corpse, sucking until there was nothing left to give. Un-sated, the vampire moved to the next large bag, opened it up, and without thinking sank his teeth into that body as well, draining what used to be an elderly victim of their remaining life force. Seeing red and moving automatically, the vampire repeated the process with the remaining corpse, that of a child, whose head was intact, but whose mouth was torn open as if something climbed out. Khan drained the remaining fluids before pulling away, tilting his head up, savoring the rejuvenating effects of his gluttonous meal. He opened his eyes and stared at the blood red full moon, sitting menacingly in the sky.
He zipped the bags back up quickly, but not without catching the attention of one of the police officers. The officer immediately reached for his gun, but with a quick flick of his wrist, Bold forced the weak-willed and shaken officer to forget the ordeal and return to documenting the crime scene. Something far bigger was happening here beyond the Yakuza and Blovid-13. This family was killed by something far worse than a simple disease for the sheep.
The warrior left the scene quickly, setting a brisk pace back down the street. His trench coat was covered in blood, that of his victims and that of his assailants. To the infuriated vampire, this did not deter him or even enter his mind as he made his way back to the underground dojo nearing the early hours of the morning. He walked to the door and slammed it open, already gaining his invitation earlier in the evening. The rikishi were just finishing getting dressed in their clothes for the day, ready to return home for rest for the night. The one that tried to expel him started to speak but the Mongolian was too quick, pushing a large sum of cash for the rikishi to divide amongst themselves. Khan went straight for the bookie of the underground ring. The man looked the foreigner up and down, seeing him drenched in blood from head to toe. He looked visibly shaken. Bold spoke, his voice calm and collected, but forceful and commanding.
Khan: Show me this greater challenge.