Two-faced: Part II

<b>I.</b>

<b><I>BANG!</B></I>

As the bullet departed from the casing and barrel, the resounding explosion ricocheted off of the bathroom walls, loud enough to make even a deaf man hear.

Ken Kaze had kicked his captor directly in the <I>forbidden forest</I>, causing the unknown captor to involuntary pull the trigger of the gun. Fortunately, as Kaze hopelessly kicked backwards, he was able to lower his head, causing the bullet to plummet into the depths of the wall. With his enemy knelt on the ground, he scrambled around in the dark restroom.

However, he wasn’t scrambling for the doorway. He was in search of this unknown man. The man was surely grunting in pain, as the heel in Kaze’s shoe found the perfect spot to land. That was of no use to Kaze, though, as his eardrums were still ringing off the hook as if he housed a telemarketing service in his skull.

With his hearing gone, he immediately began to feel around the area. Sure enough, his hands fell across a leather-coated figure, whom was now on all fours.

“The gun!” the leather-coated captor yelled blindly in the darkness. “The gun! Where the hell did it go—ARGH!”

A swift, straight right punch to the back of his head allowed him to intake a mouthful of cement. The murky bathroom floor was unforgiving in its assault with the captor’s face.

Kaze dropped to his knees and began to pummel away at the anonymous man. Even with Kaze’s small stature, the man stood no chance of mounting an effective defense whilst on his stomach in the dark. He could only claw desperately at the floor, in hopes of retrieving his firearm.

“Who the fuck are you?” Kaze roared. “Tell me before I fucking beat you to death!”

“Fuck – you—ARGH!” A blast to the back of the man’s skull stopped his response abruptly.

Kaze immediately brought both himself and his assailant to a vertical vase. With a handful of leather, Kaze charged straight ahead, not sure of what the two would run into. It didn’t matter. The unidentified mugger would take full brunt of the force anyhow.

The mirror shattered, lacerating the man’s face entirely. Blood splattered across the splintered shards of glass that fell to the floor. With a half-nelson chicken wing submission hold locked onto his enemy, Kaze used his leverage to slam the man into the ground. Relinquishing the half-nelson and chicken wing hold, a hammerlock sufficed to keep the man still as Kaze drove his knee into the man’s back.

With his free hand, he searched for the gun.

And he had found it.

He forced it into the nape of the man’s neck.

“So, shit stain. How do you plea?”

The man spit out some blood. He appeared to be bleeding internally. “Wh—what?”

“How the fuck do you plea?” Kaze was irate. A mere few seconds ago, this man had attempted to take his life. Who would settle for that? Who would actually be calm about such an atrocious act?

“Failure.” That was the one word the man uttered, and with finality.

“Failure? Because you failed to kill me, huh?”

The man did not reply.

“Answer me, damn it!”

Silence.

“Psychological warfare. That’s what this is, between you and I. You think because I’m so enraged, that I’ll blow your brain out the front of your face simply because you won’t obey me. I’m not stupid.”

The man stifled a laugh. His silence was broken. But not for long, as Kaze pistol-whipped him on the crown of his head.

“Tell me this: <b>Who</b> have you failed?” This was the root of all queries. Who was it that hired this assassin? “And why do they want me dead?”

Again, silence.

“Get up!”

Kaze reached around the man’s neck with his armed hand while he maintained the hammerlock. He quickly lifted the reserved hired gun and slammed him against the wall. The scenario was familiar, as Kaze had been in his adversary’s position only a few seconds earlier.

Only, now it was Kaze who was in control, pressuring the gun into the nape of the failed assassin’s neck.

“Is this gun still loaded? If so, you’re not only a fool, but also a lousy assassin. Not only did you commit this job inappropriately, but also you did it very amateurishly. Hell, I failed Assassin School myself, but I’m no fool on the job. When it comes to wrestling, I never come over prepared, to where I could allow my opponent the least bit of an advantage. That’s just stupid. That’s simply defeating yourself. And I anticipate everything. That way, I can never be blindsided. It’s simple technique.”

Kaze applied more pressure on the hammerlock, causing the still silent man to moan in pain.

“Who’re you working for? I’m not going to kill you. That’s what you want, seeing as you failed your job. That’s the only option left for you at this point. I’ll merely pop your shoulder out of place, and possibly break either your arm or collar bone. Won’t hurt me none. I break bones for a living. It’s my job.

“So, you can either talk, or suffer. I’m not killing you.”

More pressure applied to that hammerlock. Kaze knew the man would talk.

“All right, all right!” the man shouted. “I can’t tell you specifically who I work for, because I don’t even know. I told you earlier: I receive my orders via a cell phone. But I’ll tell you why: To eliminate you permanently from the battle royale at this week’s ReVolution. He wants you taken out before you could even think about stepping foot into the ring.”

“Very well,” Kaze replied. “It must be someone I’m acquainted with, if that’s the case. And by the way: I lied. I am going to kill you.”

However, that last statement was actually the lie. Kaze simply reeled back with the firearm and blasted the finally mentally broken man in the back of the head. His face bounced off of the hard wall, and he dropped motionlessly to the cold cement floor.

======

<b>II.</b>

With the nine millimeter gun tucked into the pants that he wore on his upper body, Ken Kaze approached the bar.

“What’ll it be, cutey?” the raspy voice of the bartender chimed. “It’s on the house.”

“Ugh. Fucking queer. I don’t want any beer, and I definitely don’t want your dick in my ass. Fuck off, cry me a river, build me a bridge, and jump off of it.”

Kaze began to depart the gay bar.

“Oh, and if you’re looking for fresh meat . . .” A wicked smile assembled onto his face. “Check the bathroom.”

He pushed through the door and left the scene, realizing he was a step closer to finding out who had kidnapped George, and who wanted him dead.

It was someone in the wrestling business. That, for the most part, was fact. And there was bound to be someone else who had little traces of information about George’s whereabouts. People intermingle. People talk. People gossip.

And Kaze would find those people.

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<B>TO BE CONTINUED . . .</B>