Roots. (RP #3)

[Oblivion Death Squad]

Inside what was clearly some old abandoned factory was a crowd of people, they were howling and cheering over the loud bass of techno. In a small circle cleared away on the cement floor surrounded by a ring of people two men were fighting, they were circling and throwing punches as they weaved back and forth. One of them was huge with long hair, covered in tattoos as he swayed back and forth. Blood ran down his face, but he motioned his opponent onward. His opponent was just as big, but silent as he crept in with his guard up. It was Mormo of the Oblivion Death Squad, and he lowered his fists to mock the man who lunged forward with a wild swing. Mormo ducked the blow, tackling him around the waist to fling him to the dirt.



The crowd cheered, stomping their feet as Moloch nodded with approval from where he stood in the front row. The crowd slapped his shoulders, and called for Mormo as Moloch growled something. The tattooed man staggered to his feet, limping now as he shook his head before he motioned for Mormo to bring it on. The big man shook his head, and then he came in with a speed that was shocking. His opponent threw a fist, and Mormo hooked his arm under his before his head snapped forward to crack into the man's nose. His nose shattered, and blood flowed as Mormo shoved him back before he drove a hard kick into his ribs. The man staggered, and Mormo caught him to crash him to the floor with a brutal suplex!

The referee ran over, waving his hands as he motioned Mormo back before the big man threw his fists in the air. The crowd cheered, and Mormo bumped forearms with his brother before he watched the ref drag his bleeding barely conscious opponent from the ring.

Then the scene shifts to Mormo and Moloch sitting alone by the wall, and Mormo growls in his native tongue.

'Nga vijmë ne! Kjo është ajo që ne bëmë përpara se të vinim për t'u bashkuar me Murtajën! Ne jemi këtu për t'ia kujtuar vetes këtë para se të përballemi me Von Krauss!'

Subtitles:
This where we come from! This is what we did before we came to join the Scourge! We are here to remind ourselves of that before we face the Von Krauss!

Moloch nods, and he leans forward as his huge hand makes a clawing motion. He snarls, and spits as Mormo nods in agreement.

'Von Krauss mendojnë se janë luftëtarë? Luftëtarët? Përbindëshat? Jo, ata nuk dinë asgjë për këto gjëra. Por ne do t'i mësojmë ata! Ne do t'u mësojmë atyre se çfarë do të thotë të luftosh për të mbijetuar!'

Subtitles:
The Von Krauss think they are fighters? Warriors? Monsters? No, they know nothing of these things. But we will teach them! We will teach them what it means to fight to survive!

Mormo grunted.

'Kemi ardhur këtu për t'i kujtuar vetes rrënjët tona! Për të kujtuar veten se çfarë jemi! Dhe në përleshjen e Vitit të Ri do t'i kujtojmë Von Krauss! Ne jemi luftëtarë gropa, ne jemi luftëtarë çmimesh, ne jemi gladiatorë! Ky është sporti ynë dhe ata janë vetëm viktima!'

Subtitles:

We came here to remind ourselves of our roots! To remind ourselves of what we are! And at New Years Brawl we will remind the Von Krauss! We are pit fighters, we are prize fighters, we are gladiators! This is our sport, and they are just victims!

The scene cuts away again, and this time Moloch is inside the ring. He circles around a smaller man, who is fast and lean muscled as he charges in to fire off a few stiff kicks at the larger man. He dances back, ignoring the crowd as he waves his arms and shouts insults at the glowering Moloch. The Death Squad member snorts, shaking his head before he takes a few steps forward to walk into more punches and kicks. He snags the man's leg, and rips him forward to crack an elbow into his face. Blood flows, and the man stumbles back shaking his head before Moloch drives a massive fist into his stomach. He doubled over, coughing before Moloch grabbed him to fling him across the ring.

He stumbled into the crowd, and they shoved him back forward. Moloch charged in, plowing a huge shoulder into his chest to send the man tumbling to the ground. He started to rise, and Moloch grabbed him as his arms slid around his head and throat. He yanked him into the air, choking him as he flung him side to side before the ref ran in to try and get him off. Moloch dropped him to the ground, and the crowd howled for blood as he stormed back and forth.

Cut again.

Mormo spat, slamming his fist into his palm.

'Andrienne Blaque? Jeni aktore? Jakie Wentzel? Ju jeni një fermer?'

Subtitles:
Andrienne Blaque? You're an actress? Jakie Wentzel? You're a farmboy?

Moloch leaned forward, a hand on the big man's shoulder as he snarled.

'Kjo është e bukur. Ne jemi luftëtarë! Luftuam për të mbijetuar në rrugët e shëmtuara të Shqipërisë! Ne pamë burrat të vdisnin keq, të vdisnin të shëmtuar dhe mbijetuam! Dhe kjo nuk do të jetë ndryshe!'

Subtitles:
That's nice. We're fighters! We fought to survive on the mean streets of Albania! We watched men die badly, die ugly, and we survived! And this shall be no different!

Mormo growled, and nodded as he fumed.

'Shihemi se shpejti.'

Subtitles:
See you soon.