Rise, Part One (XHF Tag Team Title Match)

[Oblivion Death Squad]

Rise

Now.

The Oblivion Death Squad.

The Soulless Minions of Orthodoxy.

The Shocktroops of the Apocalypse.

The Honor Guard of the Scourge.

The Footsoldiers of the Void.

They were all of these things. Yet none of them were their sole purpose, and so they lurked in the shadows. Watching, waiting, always there. They were the eyes and ears of the Great Dark. His hands and fists, and the unspoken threat of his words.

If you strayed too far from his word, if you defied the will of the Scourge, if you ignored his commandments? They would find you.

Their order had been born in darkness, when he had twisted those trained by the Order to his vision. They had become monsters in his image. His machines of war. They watched his servants, they guarded them. But the facts were many of those high in Donzig-gun who thought they were safe with the Death Squad watching them were unaware that they would fall on them if they strayed too far.

On that day, they had all cast aside their human names. Their mortal names. They had taken the names of devils, for the world was Hell. And the Death Squad? It’s keepers.

Mormo and Moloch had been among the first.

They had been plucked from the streets of Albania, and trained by Donzig himself in the early days of his rise. They were his creatures, his boys, they were his sons. They were loyal to his vision, even if forced to serve Armand. And like good soldiers of the Void, they watched, they waited, and they knew sooner or later they would fall on Armand like the Sword of Damocles.

They fell on all things like the Sword of Damocles.

All of these things and more they thought as they trained in the darkened basements of Godfrey Hall. They ran through their drills, they sparred, and they planned to take the XHF Tag Team titles in near silence. Mormo and Moloch were of a single mind, they didn’t need words for this.

Unlike others in Donzig-gun, the Death Squad were machines. They were killers without remorse, they were assassins. Everyone of them knew in their hearts if they fell, if they failed one too many times, or proved to be weak? They would be replaced, just pieces in a great machine. His great machine. Just cogs in his plans, and they were as such easily replaced. And Mormo and Moloch alone realized that they did not have the great curse of Donzig-gun upon them. They were not arrogant.

They were not demi-gods, they were not tyrants, they didn’t believe they were Gods given flesh.

They were just men, mere soldiers of a bleak vision. They were the hand that would choke the world in the name of the Scourge.

Mormo grunted as he held the bag as Moloch hammered away at it, nodding as he noted that Moloch was ignoring the tape wrapped heavy around his chest and ribs. He ignored the way his lungs must be burning, the way his back and shoulders ached as he flung fists at the bag as Mormo leaned in on it.

His own body ached though he would never admit it, his arms and legs taped as well.

Spike Kane would pay for what he had done. Spike Kane had dared to attack their master, he had dared to lay his hands on the Vessel of the Scourge! He had attacked the Death Squad, and laid them low. Mormo growled, cursing his name under his breath as the bag rocked as Moloch started to drive stiff kicks into it.

Moloch paused, and he frowned as he shook his head. Mormo nodded at him, and they traded places as the bigger of the pair started to throw his shoulder into the bag. Hammering away at it as his arm locked around it, and he growled as pain flared through him.

And they remembered the Past.

Then.

[Italics are translated from Albanian. - D ]

‘Sit there and be quiet!’

The man glared at the pair as his minions threw the teen boys against the wall, they were shoved to the ground forced to sit with their arms bound behind them. The men stepped back, glaring at them as they adjusted their suits. More then one of the men had the signs of a fight on them, torn and ripped clothes, swollen eyes or lips, a few drops of blood. They looked angrily at the pair as their boss shook his head.

Another man walked forward, and he wore a white business suit. He had tanned skin, and black hair streaked with grey as he stared at them from behind his designer sunglasses. A hand lifted to rub his chin, and he let his hand drop with a confused gesture. His own men stood around him as he rubbed his fingers together. These men were dangerous, they were killers, criminals. Men like these had ruled the streets of Albania since the fall of communism. They were the lords of the new age.

And their lives were in their hands.

The man who had captured them glanced at them shrugging before he dragged a hand across his stubble covered head.

‘These are the ones, sir. They had been causing trouble, attacking your men. I think they killed Dardan.’

The boys glared at their captors, the bigger of the two trying to edge ahead of them to protect his brother. One of the thugs glared at him, and snapped a kick into his ribs that drew a grunt of pain. The leader waved them back, and he glanced back at the man in the white suit.

‘Why did you bring them here?’

‘They are children!’

The man in the white suit snorted, amused by that answer it seemed as he shrugged. Then he undid the button of his jacket as he stepped closer, a frown as he gestured at the guards who grabbed a fist full of hair to make the smaller boy look up at him. His eyes narrowed, and he pointed.

‘Why are you doing this, boy? Don’t lie to me.’

‘You killed our father!’

The boy screamed, and his eyes filled with tears that refused to fall. The man arched a brow, and waved the guard back as he looked to his servant. The man shrugged, and he raked a hand across his stubble covered head again with a shake of his head.

‘He was that fighter who didn’t do what he was told six months back. You remember? Dardan threw him in the river after–’

The man waved a hand, and he smirked as he looked back at the boys.

‘You blame me for your father’s death? Is that it? Your father was too proud, too proud to do the right thing! All he had to do was lay down, and eat a loss, and he would have been paid! But he had too much pride! He was too stubborn to do the right thing, so your family could eat! And now he’s dead!’

The boys glared at him, eyes full of misery as their faces showed angry. He stepped closer, and he hit his chest as he motioned to the others. They jerked the children upwards, pushing them forward as the boss laughed. His second frowned, but said nothing as he pointed at the pair as he jerked off his sunglasses.

‘But you will join your poppa in heaven soon enough!’

One of the thugs pulled out a gun, and handed it to him as he lifted it to push the barrel against the larger’s forehead. The boy blinked, and swore as he jerked at his ropes.

‘Fight me! Fight me, you bastard!’

‘I don’t need to fight you, I just need you to die.’

He cocked the hammer, and then a bang echoed through the building. Everyone froze, and then a figure stepped from the shadows above. He wore a black suit, totally black without a spot of color. His head was shaved bald, and he had a thick beard as he stared down at them with cold eyes. He chewed on a cigar, smoke swirling before he gestured the boss backwards with what appeared to be an old Luger.

‘If it is all the same to you, I don’t want you to kill the boy.’

The voice spoke English, yet somehow they all knew what it said. The voice was amused, yet indifferent. Like this was all a game to it, that it didn’t matter. The man flicked away the cigar, and the gun remained trained on the boss as he looked down at the room.

‘This is not your business.’

‘Everything you do is my business. You fucked up, sweetpea. You overstepped your bounds, you brought the wrong kind of attention to us. And people took note, and what’s worse? The purses have been a little light.’

The boss stammered, and he looked at the boys as he lifted the gun to track upwards. The man in the black suit didn’t move, he didn’t even react to the gun starting to point at him. He didn’t care they realized, he didn’t care if he died here in the slums of Albania. He arched a brow, and he smiled slightly.

But the smile never touched his eyes as he purred.

‘Do you think you’re really faster than me? I am Death in High Places.’

The boss laughed.

‘You’re not real, a ghost! The Order’s boogeyman! You are just a fool.’

The luger snapped suddenly, and the shot filled the air before the boss jerked backwards. Blood blossomed on his white jacket, and he stared down at it before he dropped over. He was dead as he hit the floor, his gun sliding away from his grasp as his guards gaped.

The second in command swallowed, wiping blood from his face as the man in the suit shrugged. The smoking gun dangled from his hand absently, and he stared at the rest of them with those empty eyes.

‘If anyone has anything else to say, now is the fucking time.’

No one moved as the thing that named itself Death in High Places shrugged, and he slowly walked towards the stairs that came down from the catwalk. Everyone was watching him as he sniffed, and the gun was absently tucked inside of his jacket. He stepped over the body, and he waved a hand as he licked his lips.

He jabbed a finger at the second in command.

‘The Order wants it’s fucking money. And you’re going to give them their money before the end of the week or I am going to come back. You don’t want me to come back do you?’

The head tilted slowly, and the man nodded quickly. That dead smile returned, not a real smile but the smile of a thing that thought it should smile now. It nodded, and he glared at the bodyguards before it continued.

‘There will be no more killings like this one. The Order doesn’t like it when things are fixed, so you better tell the rest of the fucking vermin to mind their place or I will come back! And I will not be so kind next time! I will fucking flay the flesh of this fucking place next time, I will tear the goddamned hide off the bloody backs of anyone who thinks they can play games! Who thinks they can steal from us! I will SCOURGE the entire lot of you!’

The men all flinched as that horrible voice rose to a shriek that echoed around the place, and the man’s face twitched as he looked away. He took a deep breath, a finger pressed to his lips before he shrugged.

‘Now take this piece of shit, and get out of my sight!’

To be Continued….