Can't Feel My Face, 2.0

I couldn't feel a thing before my eye's opened...but as I regained consciousness I assaulted by a sensory overload. The chill of the room...the overwhelming blackness... the smell of piss and beer stinging my nostrils. Blood was on my tongue and I could feel bruises all over. My eyes slowly adjusted, and in front of me my mask stared me down as we both lay broken on the ground. My feet and hands were chained together and linked to a pole that stood in the center of the dark room. Some light came from the bottom of a door just a couple of feet away from me, and . my body was beat down and all I could hear laying in what had to be my own blood was a radio playing the same song on repeat.

When that door finally opened, twelve men came in with ski masks on, all holding bats, crow bars and chains. They stood over me laughing, and one held my face up with his boot. The Red Brick Syndicate (put in a description of who the Red Bricks are), and they had me screwed and chopped up ready to be served for dead. The one holding my face with his boot hog spit right in my grill before the beat down took effect. I found something to focus on, and immersed myself in the song, letting it wash over me...in me...to help take me away from the onslaught. I've been here before, been trained just for situations as such, trained to take pain. But no-one can hold out forever and I could feel my body begin to weaken after each blow...it was time to make a move.

There was a collapsible 11inch steel bo staff that I kept in a hidden lining of my jacket and way to many weak links in the pipe I was chained to to hold me. I had played possum long enough...a lead I played had brought me here, and I put myself into the hands of the syndicate in order to find the whereabouts of a missing eight year old mentally ill boy who had been gone for days now. The boy was here, I could tell...one of the men was checking the door while the others brought the pain. The right placing of my bo between a couple of cracked links while they continued to beat down on me, and a hard twist would be my means to freedom. The snap from the chain breaking and the force from my pouncing to the air surprised them. As well as the snap from the hidden disk-blades I hurled at four of the punks, hitting the sensitive nerves in their necks. They never saw this coming. I love those who try to stand toe to toe with me, and these idiots were no different. Even at half strength they had no chance...I take three more out with the staff before it shattered from the impact. That was it's disadvantage--it was lightweight, perfect for keeping concealed, but not highly durable. Still, those three jaws I dislocated would say different. No weapons needed though, just my hands, the way I like it. My Master's old words still rang in my ears, "Move faster..Strike harder" and those tactics was being well used along with some devastating combos being delivered to the last six. By the time the last body hit the floor my mask was back on and I was kicking the back room door off it's hinges...but there was nothing, just a lamp, one beat up sofa and trash. The second floor was a dead end as well, then every room I checked after offered nothing to my satisfaction. I followed a bad lead, but the night was still young.

I prey I'm not too late.

The city's Demon

In Philadelphia there are many dark secrets and evil entities that lurk within the shadows... Sections of the town and places where people go missing and are never found... One of those sections is the sewers. It’s a dark and vile place, and for the unfortunate one that’s taken or the poor soul who makes the bad decision to go down into the dark tunnels beneath the city streets, they get the dreaded opportunity to meet “King Tusk”. Not much is known about Tusk and at a time many didn’t even believe he existed. Philadelphia hold’s many myths but Tusk is anything but, the city’s street gangs were the first to come in contact with Tusk before anyone knew to fear going in the sewers. It was the gangs that spread the word of “King Tusk” first. When members of the street gangs started to go missing across the city, the rival gangs began a war with the apposing sides that distracted them to the real threat, Tusk. Tossed away at a very young age, Tusk lived beneath the city for years exposed to toxins and chemicals that passed through in the city’s sewer water. It deformed his mind and body creating a hate filled brute that feeds on cats, garbage and enjoys killing whoever comes into his territory. It wasn’t till torn body parts from victims Tusk caught passing through the sewers he calls home began to pop up on the nightly news, and gangs members started to find chewed up fingers and ripped off limbs of there men near sewer openings, that the remaining members of each gang realized that neither sides may not have anything to do with the sudden loss of there men. Going out on a long shot the gangs put their differences aside in order to form a truce and decided to hunt down whoever was killing their men off. Their hunt started and ended at the sewers. Only a few made it out, those who did managed to get back to their hide outs and for months silently rebuilt off the backs of their fallen comrades. The others were beat to death, throats broken and as reported bodies torn apart. Now still living in the belly of the city, Tusk very much like an animal continues to roam the sewers attacking whoever comes into his territory with no motives or goals in life. He lives only to survive and destroy whoever and whatever threatens his land and way of life, a beast unlike anything that’s been brought into the city and a deadly force for anyone to tangle with, this is “Tusk.”