LF3BYTITASŽIBIKAS

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Little Fighter 3 by Titas Zibikas Book 1 Fighters at War (Click to View)

-GAME START-

Little Fighter 3 by Titas Zibikas Book 1 Fighters at War

“The past is never dead. It isn’t even past.“
– William Faulkner

SCENE 1: The Beginning of the End
STAGE: Devil's Hall
-AGE17-
Julian and Julia, King and Princess of Planet Earth, are by their thrones in the Castle of Royal Hall, a wonderful mead hall, where their subjects congregate and make merry. As this selection opens, Julia is positioned beside Julian, trying to do a Big Bang explosion blast, though, unsuccessfully.
JULIAN: Julia! My dear! You STILL don’t KNOW how to do it?
JULIA: Daaad! I just DON’T know HOW! And I probably n-ev-er going to know!
JULIAN: Yeah, alright! Come here and have a drink with me, then!
Julian is presented with a beer bottle and Julia with a milk bottle by one of the Justins. The latter addresses Julian in a low octave tone.
JUSTIN (whispering): My Liege, we have a visitor. Should I call him in?
JULIAN: Bah! What an intercession! Can’t a Demon King have a drink in peace with his daughter! Alright, let that BARBARIAN in!
Player walks in from the left, through the massive doors of the chamber. He strides quickly across the inlaid floor, snarling and fierce: his eyes gleam in the candle-light, burning with a gruesome light. Then he stops in front of Julian, seeing the hall crowded with standing Knights.
JULIAN (calmly): Who ARE you? Why have you come so great a journey; for what have you travelled so far, crossing the dangerous waters; tell me the reason for your coming? Why do you bother me? Don't answer! I know, what's in your mind. I know everything, you see. The beginning, the present, the end. Everything. You now, you see the past and the present, like other low creatures: no higher faculties than memory and perception. But demons, my boy, have a whole different kind of mind!
PLAYER: Ah, sad one, poor old freak, with teeth like a shark's! It is I, your destroyer; it is I, an assassin from far, FAR away, you pointless, ridiculous, spineless, IGNORAMUS beast, crouched in the shadows, stinking of dead men, murdered children, martyred cows. It is I, a homicidal maniac with no shadow, no name; it is I, ultimate hunter, playing ultimate game; it is I, psychopathic slayer, ultimate butcher, acting out an ultimate show; it is I, matador par excellence, traveling incognito; it is I, annihilation soldier, malignant and insane; it is I, ultimate killer, seeking ultimate fame; it is I, violent extremist, who will watch you die, who will drain your life, who will kill the bastard, whom you are! I journeyed, forever joyless, straight to your door, to this concrete jungle, where you are king and it’s your world! And now my heart laughs, relishing your demonic sight in front of me, intending to tear the life from your body by the early morning; my mind is hot with murderous intent, with the thought of food, which you’ll become, and the feasting of my belly would soon know. Fate, this night, intends to smile upon me, for I will gnaw the meat from your broken bones of your last supper. I will drink the blood from your veins and bolt you down, hands and feet, snapping your life shut! There’s no going back from my attack! You just signed your death warrant; I have your name!
JULIAN (spreading his arms apart; with anarchistic laughter): HAR-HAR-HAR! Well, scat, ASSASSIN! I’m one of the most powerful and strongest monsters, – greater and stronger than anyone anywhere in this realm, – that lived in the darkness, growled in pain, impatient as day after day passed by, before my escape from Hell! The music rings loud in this hall, the harps are rejoicing in their calls and the bards are singing clear songs of the ancient beginning of us all, recalling ME, Julian, scorching the earth, marring beautiful plains and drying the oceans, then proudly blackening the Sun and blackening the Moon, taking the glow from across the land and making it desolate, killing and killing and KILLING life, with each and every of the nations being usurped under MY name. And, then, YOU show up, standing in front of the most brutal warrior in ALL of existence! How about this: how about YOU. GO. HOME! Go back to your cave, go back to your cowshed – whatever!
PLAYER: As if I will LISTEN to YOU! You live happily in this hall, a MONSTER, a DEMON, a FIEND! You haunted the moors, the wild marshes, and made your home a true HELL on earth! Spawned in sinful slime, never punished for your wicked crimes, you’re a murderous creature banished by God! I will drive you BACK to HELL, your exile will be the bitterest thing ever experienced, and all of Humanity will FORGET you! I will be remembered as the one true SAVIOR, who rescued the Earth from your thousands forms of evil! You will be banished forever, and I will beat you with my fists, AGAIN and AGAIN and AGAIN, until you are defeated!
JULIAN: Oh? You’re actually TRYING to insult ME? I’m very, VERY flattered, to be honest. Listen: HAVE a drink! SLEEP on it! You are NOT as quick as my greed or my claws or my wrath! You fight ME, and then WHAT? I will smash your body so heavily, the blood will be dripping in all of the rivers! Go BACK to your lair, delighted that I am so MERCIFUL!
PLAYER: Well, SORRY for breaking your long feast with tears and laments for the dead you killed! SORRY that the only survivors were those, who FLED from you! SORRY for being the antipode for your triumphus hate!
JULIAN: So, WHAT, you CRAZY one? I ruled and fought with the righteous, one against many, and won! Your threats are EMPTY, and I will be ruling Planet Earth for another THOUSAND years, a thousand YEARS of wintry grief, as the Emperor of the Galaxy, long after your sorrowful heaped body will be crushed by my hell-forged hands! I will be leaping the seas, telling and singing in all listening ears about how you were relinquished of your life, how I painted the carpets with your blood! And then, in the morning, this mead-hall glittering with new light will be drenched with blood, the benches stained red, the floors, all wet from my fiendish savage assault! I will teach you, that blood makes the GRASS grow! That blood moves like a sprayed, hot, thick geyser. That blood breaks up into living fragments. Each fragment is a spider. Millions and millions of tiny red spiders of blood will be crawling up your arms, across your face, into your mouth...
PLAYER: While I’m alive and before I die, I will keep SEEKING peace, offering no truce, accepting no settlement, no price in gold or land or silver or precious jewels or shining armor or gems or any last of all prizes, and JUSTICE. WILL. BE. SERVED!
JULIAN: Listen, listen, listen, LISTEN!!! Be a smart boy and LISTEN! I’m paying the living for one crime only with another! No one is waiting for reparation from my plundering claws: that shadow of DEATH is ME in the darkness! You’re a driven man, a maniac, a STALKER, you’re still YOUNG, get OUT from this hidden mist, invisibly following me from the edge of the marsh! I am EVERYWHERE, always seen and unseen at the same time! I am Mankind’s number one enemy in doing it crimes, killing as often as I could, can and will, and you come here, ALONE, bloodthirsty and horrible! But if you dare to touch my Kingdom’s throne, I’ll rip your heart out! I am the best and the most noble terror ARTISTE, and, I admit, you ARE brave, but I am one of the stone gods, who made heathen vows, with Hell’s support, guiding my drive’s affliction by the Beelzebub as the Lord of the NetherRealm! Beware! But ENOUGH with SPEECHES! Let me toast to my victory, and let’s talk with our FISTS! It's a chilly night, and we have cows to milk in the morning!
Julian angrily throws the beer bottle to the ground, shattering it.
JULIAN: And it’s such a beautiful day for a Massacre, my spineless one, my pompous, pompous donkey!
[fight between Player and Julian]

SCENE 2: Inside the Arena
STAGE: FightingSpirit
-AGE10-
COMMENTATOR: Welcome to the Fighting Spirit’s Dome of Doom Coliseum, dear guests at the arena and spectators on the CyberTelly! Welcome to the First Preteen Martial Arts Tournament of the year two-two-nine-nine of our Lord Julian! Our talent search has spread throughout the Universe, to bring you only the FINEST quality! And now, without any delay, for your and YOUR pleasure only… Are you ready to rrrrruuuuummmmmbbbbbllllleeeee?!
The crowd is cheering; the photographers are clicking away their cameras frantically: click-click, click-click.
COMMENTATOR: Here we are blessed with our first match! The first Champion of the day, In the blue corner, a fighting prodigy of unparalleled quality, the minister of agony, the baron of brutality, the coroner of carnage, the dealer of destruction, the azure dragon… Daaaaaviiiiis, the gruesome!
The crowd is chanting – “Da-vis, Da-vis, Da-vis”!
COMMENTATOR: And in the red corner, the bringer of pain, the treacherous soldier straight from ARAS anti-terrorist camp’s advanced training program, the bravest challenger of all… and in the acceptance letter he says this: “Names are for friends, so I don’t need one!”
The crowd is now going wild with cheer at Player’s cockiness amidst the “boos” from Davis’s fans.
DAVIS (scratching his nose): You’re going DOWN, pretty one! You will suffer! I will beat you like a drum! I will hang you out like laundry! I am the master mechanic! The alpha and omega! I will put a hurting on you, slave! I will tear you up into little shreds! And, then, I’m going to take those shreds and tear them into little shreds! I will make your mother cry! Are you ready for PAIN, little one?! I will show you no mercy, you ticklish heathen!
PLAYER (to himself): You can do this… I can do this! I’m King Freaking Kong!
COMMENTATOR: Let the carnage begin!
[fight between Player and Davis]
COMMENTATOR: Very well, then! If one Champion can’t bring Player down, then bring out all the Champions! May I present: The Musical Archer Henry! The NavySeal Ninja Rudolf! The Armored Wrestler Louis! The Cyberneticized Boxer Javis! And, finally, although not last, The Bloody Karateka Nino! Let the butchery continue!
[fight between Player and 5 opponents]
COMMENTATOR: Oh! This! This is unprecedented! This is unwitnessable! But, yes, finally! We have a clear winner, an ultimate winner! Iiiiit’s… against all odds… Player! The celebrations are in order for this victory! And, while we feast, remember to tune in and see each other next year, my gentle friends here at the arena and on the Cybertelly: the same Julian time, the same Julian channel! Until then, then!

SCENE 3: Once a Fighter, Always a Fighter
STAGE: Tai Home Village
-AGE7-
PLAYER: But I’m not a fighter!
MONK: Ah, woe, woe! Pity. O, pity! Pity! It takes talent to convince people, that war is a beautiful experience, nobody in his right mind would praise violence for its own sake, regardless of its ends, but I’ll try: Any action of the human heart must trigger an equal and opposite reaction. Treat your opponent as if he or she would be as smart as you. All you need is the willingness to be labeled “a fighter”, and with one word you ARE a fighter. Just as with one stroke, you ARE a painter; with one note, a musician; with one word, a writer! Nobody wants to lead, my young-one, but somebody has to. You got the brains, you got the balls, so you get the job! But be not only a fighter; it is important for you to understand, that it is our killer instinct, which must be harnessed, if we expect to survive in combat: it is a hard heart that beats and kills. If the meek ever inherit the Earth, the strong will take it away from them. The weak exist to be devoured by the strong. Balance is everything, sliding down slime…
PLAYER: But, but, BUT! What, by all means, can I do? What something is THERE for me? Can I alter the future? Can I make the world a better place, in which to live in? Should I help the poor? Feed the hungry? Be kind to idiots? What a challenge!
MONK: You have no argument... They say that fish, cockroaches, and even one-celled protozoa can be brainwashed. But, not you. I, as your fighting instructor, am proud to see that you are growing beyond my control. I don’t want you to be a robotic fighter. I want you to be an efficient killer. I want you to be an indestructible man, a man blessed with tremendous, extreme fear, lacking no amount of courage and bravery and valor. Know thyself, that's my dictum. Know how much you've got, and beware of strangers! There it is. No slack. Now, try defeating me 3 times in a row! I‘ll go easy on you, but also I won’t go TOO easy…
PLAYER: And what if I DO beat you 3 times in a row?
MONK: Oh, a challenge, my padawan? Fine. If you defeat me enough times, I‘ll grant you any wish within my power. But if you prove worthless, you‘ll be scrapping the Village‘s latrines for a week!
PLAYER: You. Are. ON! Be prepared to take me on the nearest hunt! Aaaaand, what I want most is RESPECT! Act on me as an adult!
MONK: That’s NOT a single wish! But, agreed. Now come at me, my padawan!
[fight between Player and Monk; after the fight’s over, screams are heard from within the Village – “Fire! Fire!”]

SCENE 4: The Beginning of the End II
STAGE: Devil's Hall
-AGE17-
The high hall rang, its roof boards swayed, and Knights shook with terror. Down the aisles the battle swept, angry and wild. Player and Julian trembled, wonderfully built to withstand each others’ blows, the struggling great bodies beating at its beautiful walls; shaped and fastened with iron, inside and out, artfully worked, the building stood firm. Its benches rattled, fell to the floor, gold-covered boards grating, as Player and Julian battled across them.
JULIA: Taking not only your sweet TIME, but also your EFFORT, my dearest Father?
Julian produces a violent violet energy ball that knocks Player away, staggering him back into a polished marble column, which breaks apart from the collision, jagged chunks of it hurtling in every direction.
JULIA: He seems familiar... Hm? Where have I seen him before?
JULIAN (looks at Julia): He‘s quite spirited, indeed! I have questions for him, as well!
PLAYER: I only want one thing! (pointing at Julian and Julia) I‘m here to kill you, both! Step aside, surrender to your fate and I‘ll grant you a quick and miserable death, you grotesque creatures!
JULIAN: Oh, I‘m just SO terrified! You‘re absorbing the bursts of my energy blasts quite well, you child‘s rag-doll!
PLAYER: Your sad little existence will be extinguished, after I‘m done with you! You are a nothing! A spick of dust! You Frankenstein!
JULIA: What... is your NAME?
PLAYER: Names are for the living... Which you won‘t be doing much!
JULIAN: I grew tired of you taking my punches, like a boxing bag, so let‘s switch it up, then – my valiant Knights, teach this insolent BOZO the meaning of respect!
KNIGHTS (all in unison): Sir, yes, Sir!
[fight between Player and 5 Knights; after the fight, cutscene triggers: Player is defeated and carried out]

SCENE 5: Once a Fighter, Always a Fighter II
STAGE: Village of Death
-AGE7-
Tai Home Village is burning.
Player and Monk run in from the left. Five Julios are there; also, Player‘s mother, the red-dressed Jan, is being held tightly like a trophy by the neck by Julia.
JULIO1: Oh, it’s him! The CHOSEN one! What a JOKE!
JULIO2: Dangit, it’s just a kid! We’re supposed to kill HIM?
JULIO3: I don’t give a squats dagger about, how old is him! We’re here on a job, and the job will be accomplished!
JULIO4: Very well put! Let’s burn this village to the ground, and plunder, what we can, and then sprinkle salt on its ashes!
JULIO5: I hope I’ll get promoted for this! Being an errand monkey is a REAL pain in the arse!
[fight between Player and Monk versus 5 Julios]
PLAYER: (out of breath from the fight): Mom! Mom! I‘m here, everything‘s alright!
JAN: No, my child! Save yourself! Now! Monk, take him with you and be gone! Cross the darkness and the mist, cross the sea and find a new home! You’re the last of all our far-flung family. Fate has swept our race away, taken warriors in their strength and led them to the death, which was waiting. And now I follow them.
PLAYER: But what about YOU? Come with us!
JAN: Grow mighty! Grow courageous! Revenge me!
PLAYER: No, I can‘t go without you!
JAN: I‘ll be with you, always, even in your loneliest hour. Now, go!
Monk grabs Player by his torso and drags him away.
PLAYER: NO! STOP! LET ME GO! LET ME SAVE HER! LET ME BEAT THE CRAP OUT OF THIS MASKED DEMONIC SUCCUBUS!
JAN: Remember me and remember my name, my lovely dove! Build me a tomb, and when the funeral flames have burned me, plant some flowers, maybe lilacs or orchids or hyacinths, here in this village!
Julia audibly snaps Jan‘s neck, breaking apart the vertebrae; foam flickering on the corners of her mouth; eyes frenzied. Then, the corpse folds to the floor in a twitching heap, the woman’s mouth silent, speaking no more, having said as much as it could; she would sleep in the fire, soon. Her soul leaving her flesh, flying to glory…
PLAYER (with a choked voice): MAMA! WAA! WAAA!
PLAYER (narrates): My mother was dead; she was as dead-looking as ared-gray old sea-elephant, stretched on the shore of a summer day. Nothing made sense to me, after that day. This is it, I thought, this is my life, and it’s a REVENGE story…

SCENE 6: Prisoner of War
STAGE: Stanley‘s Prison
-AGE18-
VOICE1: You let your Mother die!
VOICE2: You couldn‘t beat Julian or Julia!
VOICE3: You are a worthless fighter!
VOICE4: You couldn‘t save the planet!
VOICE5: You have failed!
PLAYER (narrates): It‘s been a year, since I‘m in this Stanley‘s Prison. I think of the pastness of the past: how the moment I am alive in, prisoned in, moves like a slowly tumbling form through darkness, the underground river. The voices in my dreams are oppressive, like a tomb that is this cell. No food; water supply is minimum. I have, at least, a bucket here... which is not of much use to me, but, still.
I miss myself a good glass of absinth. Oh, the fairy’s bliss of the green matrix flux! I’m awake already for four weeks, my head is dizzy, my hands shake, sometimes my legs get numb, sweat spoils me like a fish. I miss Dextromethorphan, LSD and mescaline! I miss the scent of flowers, perfume and honey!
Somebody, give me a fag, light it up; do my hands exist? I try to clap my palms, my fingers ache, but that’s that. Give me another glass of absinth (or at least a decoction of a death-cup or some Slovenian salamander brandy), I’m very thirsty, I can’t lie in my bunk. I can’t get up and take a leak; somebody else can do it for me. I am sick and stuck in this intracerebral state of tension, but my warden is immune to my pain, doesn’t show me any pity or any mercy. My feverishly pumping brain, it seems, soon will split in half or explode into a thousand and one pieces.
Lately, questions like these occupy my mind: Am I hungry? Am I parched? Am I feeling pain? Am I being tickled? Am I insane? Do I have meningitis? Do I loathe myself? Is this blood-shot erection mine? Am I too trustful? Are the soles of my feet clean? Am I exhausted? Am I bored out of my mind? Am I in a mood to joke around and talk to myself, like I’m doing now? Do the wardens put poison in my food and in my drink? Am I nauseous? Is it time to make use of the bucket? Number one or number two? (arching above the ceiling and the upper walls of Player’s prison-stationary, it comes alive with the echoing of ferocious shrieks of bats) Oh, isn’t it the Prince of Darkness himself approaching my cell?
BAT (appearing from the shadows): Well, well, WELL. (laughing in silence) He-he, hi-hi, ho-ha! How is my favorite little inmate doing? Full of life? Are our accommodations still acceptable?
PLAYER: You know, sir, that this chamber of detainment always smells of meat and dung here; also, of garlic, rotten fish, bad eggs, vomit, garbage and dirty clothing; there’s seed, blood and feces on my pillow; there’s soap in my macaroni; grease in my coffee; awful odors and toxins make my mouth and nose; I’m getting scarlet from all of it!
Not the least, I feel a heavy pain in my organs. Every bone as if shattered. I am as if battered and scorched; it seems as if I am nailed by red hot needles, daggers and spears; my hands are strained; my head is wobbly; my legs are chopped; my eye-sockets are empty; my body is as if an accordion; my head is as if sunken in a frozen lake; my body is full of hot oil; my skin is full of rocks; my brain is on fire; there’s a pick-axe in my spinal cord; there’s a bloaty feeling in my stomach; my heart throbs in my temples; my breathing is irregular; my urine is sharp as if glass shards; every organ is removed, chopped, torn, turned inside-out; one of my testicles (the left one) is swollen; my nerves, muscles and all of my body is mightily tensed. Etc.
Anyway: my life is flashing before my eyes, as if I was in a play by William Shakespeare or as if I was in a 2D side-scrolling fighting video game scenario... Listen, Bat, how about you release me, and I promise not to muddy your face too much with the soles of my shoes?...
BAT: Nobody escapes my prison. Like a slave, like a blind bat, I always serve the cult of Julian and Julia, and never myself or other. I remember my parents, and how Julian killed them. I remember myself four years old, when I saw him with his gloomy mask, barking commands to his demons-justins. I think, that I became a predatory sharp-toothed wolf, whose paw got stuck in a poacher’s trap. To escape, I have to chew it off. So, go on, convince me.
PLAYER: Let me tell you about the time, when I was growing up in the Sorcerers‘ Temple on the Great Wall...

SCENE 7: Esprit De Corps
STAGE: The Great Wall
-AGE6-
SORCEROR: Why do you assume he can just “do magic“ with no training whatsoever – and then expect, on his first attempt, to be a PROFESSIONAL sorcerer? What makes you think he‘s so much inherently greater, need so much less training than any other apprentices, Monk?
MONK: By not accepting Player into apprenticeship, you prevent him from getting to the core of someone, who will defeat Julian and Julia, you prevent the development of the child‘s characteristical dynamics, spontaneity; you stunt personal growth and prevent any inherited developments, that may take even YOU by surprise.
SORCEROR: You think this is a GAME? But, you‘re right, I guess. If your protégé can survive a fight against five of my best Sorcerers, I will ask Magician John to train him. If Player is truly destined to overpower Julian and Julia, he will endure.
MONK: Wise choice!
[fight between Player and 5 Sorcerers]
John enters from the right.
JOHN: Ts, ts, ts! Who are these old bickering ladies on MY wall? I see someone of high caliber has arrived!
PLAYER: I’m a nameless monster, Sir! I came here to survive your training course of magic, Sir!
JOHN: Alright, then! I will make you into a weapon! You will be a minister of death, praying for war! And proud! Until that day you are a puke, you are a scumbag, you are the lowest form of life on Earth! You are not even human! You are nothing, but a lot of little pieces of amphibian dung!
You, maggots, who call yourself sorcerers, get up! We’re not playing in an arcade here! You are not going to enjoy standing in straight lines and you are not going to enjoy massaging your controllers! I will speak and you will function. Some of you, my dear magical students, will not survive. Some of you maggots are going to go AWOL or will try to take your own life or will just go plain phreaking crazy. There it is.
My aims are to weed out all non-hackers, who do not pack the gear to serve in my beloved Great Wall. You will be grunts. Grunts get no slack. My recruits learn to survive without slack. Because I am hard, you will not like me. But the more you hate me, the more you will learn. Am I correct, herd?
ALL (mumbling): Yes… Yeah. Yes, Magician John…
JOHN: You got no motivation. Do you hear me, maggots? Listen up. I will give you motivation. You have no espirit de corps. I will give you espirit de corps. You have no traditions. I will give you traditions. And I will show you, how to live up to them. You piss me off, Player. You think you’re the hot stuff, because you battered some low-level Sorcerers? I will kick your ribs with the toe of my boot! Prepare for a beating!
[fight between Player and John]

SCENE 8: Prisoner of War II
STAGE: Stanley‘s Prison
-AGE18-
BAT: So, what ARE you saying?
PLAYER: What I‘m saying is... I‘ll KILL both Julian and Julia. For YOU.
BAT: What makes you think you can defeat them, now, of all times? Especially, after your first failure. What...
BOOM!!! An explosion‘s bursting sound in the near distance.
BAT: What the DARN?
Firen and Freeze run into the corridor of the Prison.
FIREN: Player’s here!
FREEZE: The traitor!
FIREN: We came to torture you, before you die!
BAT: But who ARE you?
FREEZE (pointing to FIREN): He‘s Firen.
FIREN (pointing to FREEZE): He‘s Freeze.
BAT: Firen and Freeze, huh? Good one. Sounds like the name of a book by G.G.Martin...
FIREN: Check out the COMEDIAN we have here! A real JOKER. I like you. You can come over to my knuckles and get beaten by them!
FREEZE: You little jestering scumbag. We don’t need your name. We have your arse. We will laugh at your defeat. We will make you cry. We will teach you by the numbers: you’re one and we’re two. We will teach you everything. We will teach you, how to pee blood!
Bat opens Player‘s cell and lets the prisoner out.
BAT: I guess I evened out the odds, yeah?
[fight between Player&Bat vs Firen&Freeze]

SCENE 9: Yin & Yang
STAGE: Queen’s Island
-AGE16-
As far as the eye could see, the terrain was a primordial, steaming hell, devoid of life, crisscrossed with rivers of molten rock and blanketed by a haze of volcanic ash and smoke. The fire itself was spreading in an unchecked tide, igniting the tar and lava bleeding up from the cracked Earth.
FIREN: After all, even the most brilliant among us – that select few, who come up with ingenious inventions, that change everything – can’t do it all by themselves. People with new ideas, people with the faintest capacity for saying something new, are extremely few in number, extraordinarily so in fact. One thing only is clear, that the appearance of all these grades and sub-divisions of men must follow with unfailing regularity some law of nature. That law, of course, is unknown at present, but I am convinced that it exists, and one day may become known. The vast mass of mankind is mere material, and only exists in order by some great effort, by some mysterious process, by means of some crossing of races and stocks, to bring into the world at last perhaps one man out of a thousand with a spark of independence. One in ten thousand perhaps – I speak roughly, approximately – is born with some independence, and with still greater independence one in a hundred thousand. The man of genius is one of millions, and the great geniuses, the crown of humanity, appear on earth perhaps one in many thousand millions. In fact I have not peeped into the retort in which all this takes place. But there certainly is and must be a definite law, it cannot be a matter of chance.
PLAYER: What is your point, Sensei?
FREEZE: Firen’s point is, even the sharpest knives in the drawer can’t cut it alone. We’re all people, who need people. This means that in order to have a shot at prospering, we need to understand other people.
PLAYER: I still don't understand, Sensei!
FIREN (to Player): Take this earing, for example.
PLAYER: What is it?
FREEZE: It‘s a Puaro EARING!
PLAYER: Earing, I see. But what does it do?
[Firen takes the earing from Template and gives it to Freeze. Then he pulls another one. Fade to black]

SCENE 10: Prisoner of War III
STAGE: Stanley‘s Prison
-AGE18-
FIREN and FREEZE: Fuuuuusiooooon-HA!
FIRZEN: Behold – my ultimate form! My name is Firzen and I am to be feared of! For if you won't bow to me now, I will FEED your rotting corpses to the WORMS!
[fight between Player&Bat vs Firzen. Cutscene triggers, where the first two are overpowered. Woody teleports right in the middle between the fighters]
WOODY: Is this the place? Am I on time? I‘m saving your life, Player; I‘m saving your life, Bat!
PLAYER: We still haven‘t lost – the battle or the hope... At least not so early in the sport!
[Woody grabs Player and Bat and teleports out of Stanley‘s Prison.]
FIRZEN: Aren‘t we feeling LUCKY today?

SCENE 11: Deus Ex Machina
STAGE: 6
-AGE19-
PLAYER (narrates): I used to play games when I was young – it might as well be a thousand years ago. Explored our far-flung underground Village in an endless wargame of leaps onto nothing, ingenious twists into freedom or new perplexity, quick whispered plottings with invisible friends, wild cackles when vengeance was mine. I nosed out, in my childish games, every last alligator-toothed chamber and hall, every black tentacle of my mother’s cavernous hometown, and so came at last, adventure by adventure…
I lived those years, as do all young things, in a spell. Like a puppy nipping, playfully growling preparing for battle with wolves. At times the spell would be broken, suddenly: on shelves or in hallways of my Mother's Village, large old shapes with smoldering eyes sat watching me. A continuous grumble came out of their mouths; their backs were humped. Then little by little, it dawned on me that the eyes that seemed to bore into my body were in fact gazing through it, wearily indifferent to my slight obstruction of the darkness. Of all the creatures I knew, in those days, only my Mother, Jan, and my combat instructor, Monk, really looked at me. Stared at me as if to consume me, like trolls. They loved me, in
some mysterious sense I understood without them speaking it. I was their creation. We were one thing, like the wall and the rock growing out from it. Or so I ardently, desperately affirmed. When their strange eyes burned into me, it did not seem quite sure. I was intensely aware of where I sat, the volume of darkness I displaced, the shiny-smooth span of packed dirt between us, and the shocking separateness from me in my Mama’s eyes. I would feel, all at once, alone and ugly, almost – as if I'd dirtied myself – obscene. The cavern river rumbled far below us.
Being young, unable to face those things, I would bawl and hurl myself at my Mother and she would reach out her palms and seize me, though I could see I alarmed her (I had teeth, like a saw), and she would smash me to her fat, limp breast as if to make me a part of her flesh again. After that, comforted, I would gradually ease back out into my fighting games with Monk. Crafty-eyed, wicked as an elderly
wolf, I would scheme with or stalk my imaginary friends, projecting the self I meant to become into every dark corner of the Village and the Forest above. Then all at once there they'd be again, the indifferent, burning eyes of the strangers. Or my Mother's eyes. Again, my world would be suddenly transformed, fixed like a rose with a nail through it, space hurtling coldly out from me in all directions. But I didn't understand… Until now.
JULIAN: Who is Jan to YOU?
PLAYER: She is, of course, my Mother.
JULIAN: Well, then... that makes you my BELOVED SON...
PLAYER (staring, mouth gaping): What!? Why did Julia kill her, then?
JULIAN: She killed the red-dressed woman with the iron-black hair, because your Mother thought Julia was in her way. She didn‘t want your sister, desired the death of the little young girl from the get-go. She didn‘t want to raise the little hermaphrodite freak with a deformed face like her, so me, as her Father, as your BOTH Father, left you two in that shabby Tai Home Village, and I raised her according to my strict rules and rigid authoritarianism…
PLAYER: I can‘t BELIEVE this! Everything I thought of truth is a LIE! You WILL pay for this! JULIA will PAY for this!
JULIAN: Son... Leave Julia OUT of this! I am your one and sole enemy, forever. I have prayed for the day, when our love would bring us together again. So, kill me NOW, if you dare. I‘m READY for you. Because I LOVE you... Because your SISTER loves you, even if your Mother didn‘t accept her...
[fight between Player and Julian]
Julian’s time had come; his days were over, his death near; down to Hell he would go, swept groaning and helpless to the waiting hands of still worse fiends. Now, he discovered, – once the afflicter of men, tormentor of their days, – what it meant to feud the Player: Julian saw that his strength was deserting him, his claws bound fast. The Monster’s hatred rose higher, but his power had gone. He twisted in pain, and the bleeding sinews deep in his shoulder snapped, muscle and bone split and broke. The battle was over, Player had been granted a new glory: Julian escaped, but wounded as he was could flee to Tartarus, only to die, to wait for the end of all his days. And after that bloody combat the Little Fighter Player laughed with delight. Player, bold and strong-minded, had driven affliction off, purged Earth clean. He was happy, now, with that night’s fierce work; he had killed Julian, ended the grief, the sorrow, the suffering forced on Little Fighter Empire’s helpless people by a bloodthirsty fiend. None doubted the victory, but, also, none could claim, that one day Julian… would NOT return…

EPILOGUE

SCENE 12: Memento mori
STAGE: Gargoyle Hall
-AGE19-
Player, – badly beaten with shredded clothes, short-cropped hair slick with sweat, with ugly lacerations on his face, with lower lip split and bleeding, and his right eye swollen shut, – is sitting in Julian‘s throne around scattered tons of concrete and structural steel rubble, whilst the statue of Julian is being consumed in a huge toadstool of flame – everything has come full circle.
PLAYER (narrates): I understood, that the world was NOTHING: a mechanical chaos of casual, brute enmity on which we stupidly impose our hopes and fears. I understood that, finally and absolutely, I alone EXIST. All the rest, I saw, is merely what pushes me, or what I push AGAINST, blindly – as blindly as all that is not I pushes BACK. I create the whole universe, the whole galaxy, blink by blink.
I was transformed. I was a new focus for the clutter of space I stood in: if the World had once imploded on the tree, where I waited, trapped and full of pain, it now blasted outward, away from me, screeching terror. I had become, myself, the Mama I'd searched the cliffs for once in vain. But that merely hints at what I mean. I had become something, as if born again. I had hung between possibilities before, between the cold truths I knew and the heart-sucking conjuring tricks of Julian; now that was PASSED: I was Player, Ruiner of Meadhalls, Wrecker of Demons! But, also, as never before, I was ALONE.
What was I? The man, who had CHANGED the World, had TORN up the past by its thick, gnarled roots and had transmuted it, and they, who knew the truth, REMEMBERED it this way – and so did I!

A GAME BY TITAS ŽIBIKAS!
THANK YOU FOR PLAYING!

-GAME OVER-

Little Fighter 3 by Titas Zibikas Book 2 Meet the Broly (Click to View)

-GAME START-

Little Fighter 3 by Titas Zibikas Book 2 Meet the Broly

“If an injury has to be done to a man, it should be so severe that his vengeance need not be feared.”
― Niccolo Machiavelli

SCENE 1: Julian Killer
STAGE: CUHK
Player is walking towards Tokyo Law University. Yellow Broly appears behind his back. Player turns around in an expression horrified.
PLAYER (agitated): How BIG are you, guy? Are you on steroids?
BROLY: No, I’m all natural, you, petty weakling.
PLAYER: So, who ARE you?
BROLY:  I am a beast, because I kill before I eat. I am an owl, because I don’t ever sleep. And now I am an ultra-super-sayan, because I slaughter them all. I am the shepherd of evil, the guardian of crime, and I knew at once that you’re a man, whose hands are the hardest; my mind is flooded with fear. My one thought, before appearing in front of you, was to run away, flee back to my home planet and hide there. But I remembered my desire to become the strongest, so I STAND erect, my fists clenched and cracked from fright. You are the infamous “Julian Killer”, who fought for everyone’s freedom, never wavering or retreating, desiring victory against Julian and willing no escape for him; that was a miserable journey for the Writhing Monster!
PLAYER: But are you HUMAN? What is your hassle with me, you, wise-man of old, you, carrier of eternal life?
BROLY: No hassle, only a QUARREL. I want to be as big and as powerful, as you. How can I achieve it?
PLAYER: But I’m small, fragile and weak! Also, I’m a color-blind laboratory mouse, clinically insane vile surgeon and born from a fetus aborted by an evil doctor!
BROLY: I sensed your cryptic “riatszu”. (Pause.) It’s amazing! It’s at spiritual power level Zero. How can an existent be at spiritual power level Zero? Are you hiding in plain sight? Are you Death Incarnate? Are you in an unthinking state of degenerative metamorphosis, a cannibal of violent will-to-power?
PLAYER: No. I’m weak, because I CHOOSE to be so. I’m like the taste of formaldehyde – tasteless, but deadly.
BROLY: How come, Sir?
PLAYER: Sir? You’re in, you, Godless Demon. You’re now in Little Fighter Club’s experimental surgery cloning program. We call it the AMINUS program. We call it: “All Measures Intelligence Nihilism Ultra Sayans” program. Let’s see, if you’re ready for IT with a “shiobu”! No reason to hold back! One hundred and ten percent!
[fight between Player and Broly]

SCENE 2: Half-fire, Half-ice
STAGE: Queen’s Island
[fight between Player and Frozen]
Fight ends. Liso walks in from the right.
LISO: Still trying to overpower Frozen, Player?
PLAYER: Not TRYING! Achieving through PERSEVERANCE! My strength's pressure is ACCELERATING, my body is MUTATING from all the training!
FROZEN: This… KID… man, he’s giving me the CHILLS. I’m half-ice, half-fire, and I’m turning rotten GREEN.
PLAYER: Not “kid”, Sir! A youngling!
FROZEN: You’re a pathological masochist… YOUNG-LING. Ha!
PLAYER: Just blood, guts and glory… SIR!
FROZEN: You take him on, Liso. We’ve been doing taekwondo combateering for forty-eight hours. My muscles are screaming from sorrowful pain.
[fight between Player and Liso]

SCENE 3: Julian Killer II
STAGE: CUHK at night
Mark, 3 Bandits and 2 Hunters appear.
MARK (to Player and Broly): We DON’T like new faces HERE, you, cracked, bile dripping walnuts. If you don’t pay protection money, we will smash, break your bodies, brains and limbs. We will rip your torsos in two, butcher your stew and innards, emancipate your genitals and kidneys, make you vomit blood, rip your eye-sockets out, defecate on your smearing remains, lacerate your genitals, asphyxiate your arteries, liquidate your cerebral matter into a dripping goop, gout your facial features… WAIT, you, blackened fluid stinkers… How big ARE you, guys?
BROLY (facing Mark, laughing): Har-har! We are the strongest organisms in the Universe. We feel no pain, we drink milk for mass, we must devour medicine to control our enragement, our spleens are blackened. We are menacing crazyful mutilators, destroyers of disfiguring kind, annihilators of desecratorism, born in virgin-made science, faces of beyond good and evil, lustful only for themselves as the descendants of Hermes!
MARK: We will slice you both UP, we will make you WEEP, we are psychotic Mafiozos, addicted to smack and not giving a heck… Here we go, you, maggots! We will lay you with cold after an excruciating death!
PLAYER (sneering): Let’s take CARE of these EXHIBITIONERS, mate!
BROLY (snapping words out like bullets from a machine gun): We will grab you by your scrawny throats and we'll punch your damned heads off! That's our area: we’re the baddest of the bad, the leanest of the lean, the meanest of the mean! Bon Appetit!
[fight between Player&Broly vs 6 opponents; after, there’s only one bandit left standing]
BANDIT (with a tear-drop on his temple): Darn it, I’m leaving! I don’t want to be beaten to a PULP…
[Bandit runs away]

SCENE 4: Aminus Room
STAGE: Space
Woody teleports Player and Bat to the Aminus Room.
WOODY: We’re here, safe and sound, tavareshi! Let’s take a breather, recollect and reflect.
PLAYER: Who are you, you, spiked-haired fellow? Why did you interrupt our fateful fight?
WOODY: They call me by the name of Woody, tavareshi. I’m a time-cop, and I just saved your life, no reason to thank me, thank you.
BAT: Thank you, then, I guess? But… what IS this place?
WOODY: It’s the Aminus Room. We access, relive and reconfigure genome parallels here. And, yes, you’re welcome! Now to business…
PLAYER: Wait! This is happening way, WAY too fast! WHY did you save us?
WOODY: Yellow Brolly is coming, he’ll be your greatest aid in the fight against Julia and Goku; now, like I said, to…
BAT: Wait, wait, WAIT! Julia, I know, but WHO is Yellow Broly and WHO is Goku?
WOODY: I’ll explain everything, in due time. Just stick with me, not knowing, but trusting – in me, in Aminus and in your destiny!
PLAYER &BAT (in unison): What other options do we have?!
WOODY: The business is this: I measure your strength! Fight me one on one, Player! Now, or Never!
PLAYER: If that’s what’ll make you fess up, that’s what I’ll do!
[fight between Player and Woody]
WOODY: Alright, you’ve won! Now, a stab at truth, a snatch at apocalyptic glee: Pick an apocalypse, any apocalypse. A sea of black oil and dead things. No wind. No light. Nothing stirring, not even an ant, a spider. A silent universe. Such is the end of the flicker of time, the brief, hot fuse of events and ideas set off, accidentally, and snuffed out, accidentally, by Julian. Not a real ending, of course, nor even a beginning. Mere ripple in Time's Stream.
PLAYER: That really could happen?
WOODY: It has happened, in the future. I am the witness.
PLAYER: I don't believe you.
WOODY: Even if I must be ruled by you as an outcast, cursed by the rules of this hideous fable… It will come!

SCENE 5: The more one learns…
STAGE: Kame House
ROSHI: …all special studies presuppose certain fundamental types of things. (Here I am using the word “thing”, notice, in its most general sense, which can include activities, colors, and all other sensa, also values.) As lower minds function, study, or “science”, is concerned with a limited set of various types of things. There is thus, in the first place, this variety of types. In the second place, there is the determination as to what types are exhibited in any indicated situation. For example, there is the singular proposition – “This is green” – and there is the more general proposition – “All those things are green”. This type of inquiry is what your usual reasoning takes care of. Undoubtedly, such inquiries are essential in the initial stage of any study, martial arts or otherwise, for the lower minds. But every such study must strive to get beyond it. Unfortunately… Hey! You are NOT paying attention!
GOKU: I am, I am!
ROSHI: Nothing interests you, but excitement, violence…
GOKU: That's NOT true!
ROSHI: You tell me, what's true?
GOKU: I'm trying to follow. I do my best… You should be REASONABLE with me! I’m dumb! What do you expect?!
ROSHI: The essence of life is to be found in the frustrations of established order. The universe refuses the deadening influence of complete conformity. And yet in its refusal, it passes toward novel order as a primary requisite for important experience. We have to explain the aim at forms of order, and the aim at novelty of order, and the measure of success, and the measure of failure. Apart from some understanding, however dim-witted, of these characteristics of historic process. Things come and go. That's the gist of it. In a billion billion billion years, everything will have come and gone several times, in various forms. Even I will be gone. A certain man will absurdly kill me. A terrible pity-loss of a remarkable form of life. Conservationists will howl.
GOKU: What the HELL are you talking about?
ROSHI: The incitement to violence depends upon total trans-valuation of the ordinary values. By a single stroke, the most criminal acts must be converted to heroic and meritorious deeds. If the Revolution comes to grief, it will be because you and those you lead have become alarmed at your own brutality. Make no mistake, my beloved student! The total ruin of institutions and morals is an act of creation. A RELIGOUS act. Murder and mayhem are the life and soul of revolution. I imagine you won't laugh, when I tell you that. There are plenty of fools, who would. Revolution, my dear student, is not the substitution of immoral for moral, or of illegitimate for legitimate violence; it is simply the pitting of power against power, where the issue is freedom for the winners and enslavement of the rest.
GOKU: You’re talking, like a MACHINE, my Master!
ROSHI: I'm a machine, like you. Like everyone else. Blood-lust and rage are my character! Why does the lion not wisely settle down and be a horse? In any case, I too am learning, ordeal by ordeal, my indignity. It's all I have, my only weapon for smashing through these stiff coffin-walls of the World. So, I dance in the moonlight, make foul jokes, or labor to shake the foundations of night with my heaped-up howls of rage. Something is bound to come of all this. I cannot believe such monstrous energy of grief can lead to nothing!
Roshi enters the Kame House. Player teleports outside of it.
PLAYER: Whoa! This teleportation technique Woody taught me actually WORKS!
GOKU: That’s my line!
PLAYER: Oh? Goku, I presume?
GOKU: That’s right! I’m a Sayan! And you?
PLAYER: A Little Fighter! You can interpret my existence as a lower-Sayan!
GOKU: Nice! Always wanted to meet one of you, young guys!
PLAYER: The honor is all mine! I mean, you beat Freeza, Cell and Buu! On your own!
GOKU: He-he! Not on my own, though! I had help! Are you here to see Master Roshi, as well?
PLAYER: Uh… Yeah, yeah, that’s why I’m here!
GOKU: Nice, nice!
PLAYER: Yep, yep!
GOKU: What’re your stats, my lad?
PLAYER: Stats? Oh, I’m strong! At least, that’s what my tutors tell me! And you? Your stats, I mean!
GOKU: My Resting Spiritual Power Level is at 8999! Any more, and you’d faint from the aggressiveness of my aura!
PLAYER: You’re kidding me, right? I had never, you see, fainted in the entirety of my life … Or slept, or rested, for that matter!
GOKU: Alright, for YOU, I’ll go full force!
PLAYER: It’s your funeral!
[fight between Player and Goku]
Master Roshi comes out of the Kame House.
ROSHI: By God! I was watching through the window, not knowing, what the outcome may be, but this fight was between two DARN finely strong fellows, and I presume the best fighter won! Now, let’s go inside for a talk. I have this amazing new collection of Playdude magazines you NEED to check out with your eye-balls and not only them!...

SCENE 6: Revenge Reversed
STAGE: Village_of_Death
PLAYER (narrating): I firmly committed myself to killing her: slowly, horribly. I would begin by holding her over the fire and cooking the ugly hole between her legs. I laughed at that, harder. I would kill her, yes! I would squeeze out her feces between my fists. So much for meaning as quality of life! I would kill her and teach her reality. Player, the truth-teacher, the phantasm-tester! It was what I would be from this day forward – my commitment, my character as long as I lived – and nothing alive or dead could change my mind!
Player is walking from the left, Julia – from the right. They approach each other.
PLAYER: Excuse me, my fair lady, but are you a “Gaijin” here?
JULIA:  A Gaijin? Is that a name for some soup or whatever?
PLAYER: No, I mean…  Oh, it’s you… Julia, right?
JULIA: That’s right. What of it?
PLAYER: I’m here to guide you to your Mother, Jan. She’s expecting you, that she is.
JULIA: Expecting or not, I’m afraid I bring ill omen on her soul…
PLAYER: Jan’s son, me, your BROTHER, is sending you the warmest regards!
[fight between Player and Julia]

SCENE 7: Dinosaurs in Space
STAGE: space
Gad is doing shadow-boxing. Player teleports in.
PLAYER: I’m looking for Yellow Broly, Gad. I thought, since he’s not on Earth, I’ll start from the Moon. And since you’re a humanoid dinosaur, the last of its kind, and all, maybe you’ve heard of him?
GAD: Nyeh-heh-heh! A dinosaur? Oh, yes, yes, yes, that’s me, yes, yes, yes. And, mhmmm, I’ve met Yellow Broly. He was here yesterday… or maybe it was the day before yesterday? Mhmmm, I, I don’t remember. Maybe you’ll freshen up my memory? En garde!
[fight between Player and Gad]
GAD: Ah, you bested me! As a tribute, let’s talk casually and with honesty! I’m a Pacifistic Dinosaur. To me, all fighting is pigshit. Fighters, who leave the obscure and try to define whatever it is that goes on in their heads, are pigs. The whole martial arts scene is a pigpen, especially that one below, on Earth. All those, who have vantage points in their spirit, I mean, on some side or other of their heads and in a few strictly localized brain areas; all those, who are masters of their body; all those for whom fists have a meaning; all those for whom there exist sublimities in the soul and currents of thought; all those, who are the spirit of the times, and have named these currents of thought – and I am thinking of their precise fights, of that automatic grinding that delivers their spirit to the winds – are pigs.
Those for whom certain words have a meaning, and certain manners of being; those, who are so fussy; those for whom emotions are classifiable, and who quibble over some degree or other of their hilarious
classifications; those, who still believe in “terms”; those, who brandish whatever ideologies belong to the hierarchy of the times; those about whom women talk so well, and also those women who talk so well, who talk of the contemporary currents of thought; those who still believe in some orientation of the spirit; those, who follow paths, who drop names, who fill books with screaming fighting headlines are the worst kind of pigs.
And you are quite aimless, young man! No, I am thinking of bearded battle-mages. And I told you so: no works of art, no language, no word, no thought, nothing. Nothing; unless maybe a fine Brain-Storm. A sort of incomprehensible and totally erect stance in the midst of everything in the mind.
And don't expect me to tell you what all this is called, and how many parts it can be divided into; don't expect me to tell you its weight; or to get back in step and start discussing all this so that by discussing I may get lost myself and even, without even realizing it, start THINKING. And don't expect this thing to be illuminated and live and deck itself out in a multitude of words, all neatly polished as to meaning, very diverse, and capable of throwing light on all the attitudes and all the nuances of a very sensitive and penetrating mind.
Ah, these states which have no name, these sublime situations of the soul, ah, these intervals of wit, these minuscule failures, which are the daily bread of my hours, these people swarming with data... they
are always the same old words I'm using, and really I don't seem to make much headway in my thoughts, but I am really making more headway than you, you beard-asses, you pertinent pigs, you masters of fake verbiage, confectioners of portraits, pamphleteers, ground-floor lace-curtain herb collectors, entomologists, plague of my tongue.
I told you so, I no longer have the gift of tongue. But, this is no reason you should persist and stubbornly insist on opening your mouths. Look, I will be understood ten years from now by the people, who then will do what you are doing now. Then my geysers will be recognized, my glaciers will be seen, the secret of diluting my poisons will have been learnt, the plays of my soul will be deciphered. Then all my hair, all my mental veins will have been drained in quicklime; then my bestiary will have been noticed, and my mystique becomes a hat. Then the joints of stones will be seen smoking, arborescent bouquets of mind's eyes will crystallize in glossaries, stone aeroliths will fall, lines will be seen and the geometry of the void understood: people will learn what the configuration of the mind is, and they will understand, how I lost my mind.
They will then understand why my mind is not all here; then they will see all languages go dry, all minds parched, all tongues shriveled up, the human face flattened out, deflated as if sucked up by shriveling leeches. And this lubricating membrane will go on floating in the air, this caustic lubricating membrane, this double membrane of multiple degrees and a million little fissures, this melancholic and vitreous membrane, but so sensitive and also pertinent, so capable of multiplying, splitting apart, turning inside out with its glistening little cracks, its dimensions, its narcotic highs, its penetrating and toxic injections, and all this then will be found to be all right, and I will have no further need to speak.
And, so… I will now tell you, where to find Broly!

SCENE 8: Player versus Broly
STAGE: Space
PLAYER: Finally! I. FOUND. YOU!
BROLY: It’s not like I was hiding, or anything, Player-kun.
PLAYER: First, you want to kill me. Then, you want me to train you. Lastly, you stab me in the back? Be ready to go to Nothingness, for this! Explain yourself! WHY did you do it? Am I not your newly found family? WHY were you not loyal not only with your words, but deeds as well, when we entered you into our society by the unanimous agreement of all the members of the Little Fighters?!
BROLY: I am a DOOMED existent. I have no personal interests, no business affairs, no emotions, no attachments, no property, and no name. Everything in me is wholly absorbed in the single thought and the single passion for MORE POWER.
I know that in the very depths of my being, not only in words, but also in deeds, I have broken all the bonds, which tie me to the social order and the civilized world with all its laws, moralities, and customs, and with all its generally accepted conventions. I am your implacable enemy, and if I continue to live with you as a friend, it is only in order to destroy you, and all other Little Fighters, more speedily.
I despise all doctrines and refuse to accept the mundane sciences, leaving them for future generations. I know only one science: the science of DESTRUCTION. For this reason, but only for this reason, I studied mechanics, physics, chemistry, medicine and, most importantly, martial arts. But all day and all night, I study the vital science of the STRONGEST beings, their characteristics and circumstances, and all the phenomena of the present social order. The object is perpetually the same: the surest and quickest way of destroying the whole FILTHY human order.
I despise public opinion. I despise and hate the existing social morality in all its manifestations. For me, morality is everything, which contributes to the triumph of Destruction. Immoral and criminal is everything, that stands in my way.
I am a dedicated existent, merciless toward the State and toward the educated classes; and I can expect no mercy from them. Between me and them there exists, declared or concealed, a relentless and irreconcilable war to the Death. I must accustom myself to torture.
Tyrannical toward myself, I must be tyrannical toward others. All the gentle and enervating sentiments of kinship, love, friendship, gratitude, and even honor, must be suppressed in me and give place to the cold and single-minded passion for Annihilation. For me, there exists only one pleasure, one consolation, one reward, one satisfaction – the success of the Mayhem. Night and day, I must have but one thought, one aim – merciless Extermination. Striving cold-bloodedly and indefatigably toward this end, I must be prepared to destroy myself and to destroy with my own hands everything, which stands in the path of my Supreme Rulership.
The nature of the TRUE Ruler excludes all sentimentality, romanticism, infatuation, and exaltation. All private hatred and revenge must also be excluded. Violent passion, practiced at every moment of the day, until it becomes a habit, is to be employed with cold calculation. At all times, and in all places, I must obey not my personal impulses, but only those, which serve the cause of the Ruination.
And, so…
I have betrayed your friendship and attachment, because you have proved by actions that, unlike me, you are NOT dedicated to NIHILISM. The degree of our friendship, devotion and obligation toward each other as a comrade is determined solely by the degree of our usefulness to the cause of total Revolutionary Massacre.
It is superfluous to speak of solidarity among us, brothers of battle. The whole strength of armaments’ work lies in this. Comrades, who possess the same revolutionary passion and understanding should, as much as possible, deliberate all important matters together and come to unanimous conclusions. When the plan is finally decided upon, then the subjugator must rely solely on himself. In carrying out acts of subverting, each one should act alone, never running to another for advice and assistance, except when these are necessary for the furtherance of the Plan.
When a comrade is in danger and the question arises, whether he should be saved or not saved, the decision must not be arrived at on the basis of sentiment, but solely in the interests of the Nihilistic Cause. Therefore, it is necessary to weigh carefully the usefulness of the comrade against the expenditure of revolutionary forces necessary to save him, and the decision must be made accordingly.
I entered the world of the LF Empire, of the privileged classes, of the so-called civilization, and I lived in this world only for the purpose of bringing about its speedy and total destruction. I am not a nihilist, if I have any sympathy for this world. I should not hesitate to destroy any position, any place, or any man in this world. I must hate everyone and everything in it with an equal hatred. All the worse for me, if I have any relations with parents, friends, or lovers; I am no longer a nihilist, if I am swayed by these relationships.
With this end in view, the Empire therefore refuses to impose any new organization from above. Any future organization will doubtless work its way through the movement and life of the people; but this is a matter for future generations to decide. My task is terrible, total, universal, and merciless Destruction.
To weld the people into one single unconquerable and all-destructive force – this is my aim, my conspiracy, and my task!
PLAYER: Game. ON!
[fight between Player and Broly]

EPILOGUE

SCENE 9: Rest in Pieces
STAGE: Graveyard
Player is walking from the left to the right through the Graveyard.
PLAYER: In the end… everything perishes, everyone dies. Ooops! Spoiler alert!
Mahoro flies in from the right.
MAHORO: Player! Pardon me, mighty warrior, been searching for you everywhere…
PLAYER: Ain’t I the POPULAR one, huh?
MAHORO: All Hell broke loose! You’re the only one, who can stop the Infernal Invasion of Julian and his lunatic demonic minions!
PLAYER: Oh? He’s still ALIVE? It’s HARD for me to be the Chosen One all the time! Ah, ah, it’s a terrible burden, though, being a hero-glory reaper, a harvester of monsters! Everybody always is watching you, weighing you, and checking if you're still heroic. You know, how it is!
MAHORO: I don’t know, if you’re being sarcastic, or not, but you’re going with me!
PLAYER: It’s not like I do have a CHOICE here, right?
MAHORO: No… No, you don’t. Jump on, I’m taking you for one HELLUVA ride!
PLAYER: Okky Dokky!
MAHORO: Okky Dokky? Let’s see, if you’re as canonistic with your strength, as well!
[fight between Player and Mahoro]
[after the fight, Mahoro grabs Player and carries him to the right off the screen.]
MAHORO: Now, with straight highway to Tartarus!

A GAME BY TITAS ŽIBIKAS!
THANK YOU FOR PLAYING!

-GAME OVER-

Little Fighter 3 by Titas Zibikas Book 3 The Demon Hunter (Click to View)

-GAME START-

Little Fighter 3 by Titas Zibikas Book 3 The Demon Hunter

“Hell is other people.”
― Jean-Paul Sartre

SCENE 1: Better to reign in Hell, than serve…
STAGE: Apocalyse
Player and Mahoro fly in from the left.
MAHORO: On this journey, I am accompanying you, a living man, to the descend of this bankment, and I intend you see all of this Underworld on your own for the purpose of its salvation, in search of freedom, and how dear that is. Good-bye and stay safe!
Mahoro flies away, and Player remains alone.
PLAYER: I had wandered off from the straight path! This Apocalyptic Landscape… am I in Hell, or not, yet? Terror is starting to burst in my heart's lake!
Six Demons-Cords block Player’s path.
CORD1: We are gaudy beasts, very trim and very swift! We were waiting for you, heads raised high, and furious with hunger! We can feel your fear in the air, because of our audible presence!
CORD2: We’ll have no pity on your soul, whomever you are, shade or living man!
CORD3: No longer living man, though once he was, and now he is no more!
PLAYER: You, rascals, you worship and represent false and lying Gods! Though, I have to admit, you make me tremble, the blood throbs in my veins!
CORD4: You must journey down another road, if ever you hope to leave this place! We allow no soul succeed along this path to Hell, we block anyone’s way and put an end to their foolishness!
CORD5: We are by nature so perverse and vicious, that we mate with the dead, whom we kill, and we enjoy their anguish!
CORD6: And so, we think it best you go back, from whence you came, for your own good! Only desperate cries, tormented shades, old as Tartarus itself, and deathly screams await, if you continue!
PLAYER: I am a Little Fighter! I shall stand my ground and not journey yet another road! Your Second Death awaits you, you, foul creatures!
[fight between Player and 6 opponents]
Out of the marsh, from the foot of misty hills and bogs, bearing a blade, Deep strides, hoping to kill any supernatural being on this trip to and from Tartarus. He moves quickly through the cloudy evening, up from his swampland, sliding silently towards Player.
DEEP: Oh, Player, you killed those filthy demon scum? I name myself simply: Deep, the Demon Hunter! I swam in the blackness of night, hunting monsters out of all circles of Hell, and killing them one by one; death was my errand and the fate they had earned. Grant me, then, lord and protector of this noble slaughter, a single request! I have come so far, oh, shelterer of warriors and all of living people’s loved friend, that this one favor you should not refuse me – that you, alone and with the help of no men, may purge all evil from this place. I have heard, too, that you defeated the scornful monster, Julian, once, with no weapons, except your struggling hands and your broad bravery. If you can, if you CAN, defeat him once more STILL, because he lives STILL! Make nothing to mourn over, no corpse of his to prepare for its grave: carry Julian’s bloody flesh to the moors, crunch on his bones and smear his torn scraps of his skin on the walls of his den!
PLAYER: Deep, you’ve come to me in friendship, not afraid of war, wanting to return home, and I will not turn you away, I will travel across all Hell to the place, where Julian lurks, to his throne’s tomb; I swear, I’ll keep peace through war means, my muscles will not grow heavy, and my heart will not yield to terror; I’ll stop his madness, smother his violent lust! Just do me this: raise your sword once more! Sweep it against me with full force! Because, what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger! Because what kills you, makes you the STRONGEST!
DEEP: Understood! And if you win, which you’ll definitely do, I’ll give the title, The Demon Hunter, to you! Ready, steady, GO!
[fight between Player and Deep]

SCENE 2: Once more the stars
STAGE: Dark Lion Forest
Player approaches a sign:
BEFORE ME NOTHING BUT ETERNAL THINGS
WERE MADE, AND I SHALL LAST ETERNALLY.
ABANDON EVERY HOPE, ALL YOU WHO ENTER.
PLAYER: O, Muses! O, High Genius! Help me now! These words I see are cruel! The infernal storm, eternal in its rage! No green leaves, but rather black in color, no smooth branches, but twisted and entangled, no fruit, but thorns of poison bloom instead.
From the right enters Wizard: long-flowing is his beard and streaked with white and gray as geometry, scowling down, shaking his bloodless finger, as is his hair, which in two tresses falls to rest upon his chest on either side.
WIZARD: Woe to you, you, perverted soul! Are you the one, who is cursing God, cursing your own parents, the human race, the time, the place, the seed of your beginning, and your day of birth!?
PLAYER: A heavy clap of thunder! I see the woods, for souls are thick in them as trees!
WIZARD: Why keep on shouting? Do not attempt to stop your fated journey; it is so willed there, where the power is for what is willed; that's all you need to know!
PLAYER: Where am I, I ask again? In this round of rain eternal, cursed, cold, and falling heavy, unchanging beat, unchanging quality. Thick hail and dirty water come down in torrents through the murky air, and the earth is stinking from this soaking rain.
WIZARD: O, you there, try to remember who I am, for you had life, before I gave up mine!
PLAYER: The pain you suffer here perhaps disfigures you beyond all recognition: I can't remember seeing you before. But tell me, who you are, assigned to grieve in this sad place, afflicted by such torture that – worse there well may be, but none fouler!
WIZARD: Let my fighting skills remind you of whom I am, then!
[fight between Player and Wizard]

SCENE 3: Pape Satan, pape Satan aleppe!
STAGE: Brokeback_Clif
CRIMSON: Who is the one approaching? Who, without death, dares walk into the kingdom of the dead? Get out! Here is the entrance to the halls of grief!
PLAYER: Aha, I've got you now, you, wretched soul! Has anyone before ever descended to this sad hollow's depths, whose pain is all in having hope cut off?
CRIMSON: O, Heaven's outcasts, despicable souls, what insolence is this that breeds in you? Why do you stubbornly resist that will, which end can never be denied, and which, more than one time, increased your suffering? What do you gain by locking horns with fate?
PLAYER: Master Assassin, what kind of shades are these lying down here, buried in the graves of stone, speaking their presence in such dolorous sighs? Does day's sweet light no longer strike your eyes?
CRIMSON: O, just revenge of God! How awesomely you should be feared by everyone, who reads these truths, which were revealed to my own eyes! Who is that mighty one that seems unbothered by burning, stretched sullen and disdainful there, looking as if the rainfall could not tame him? What fortune or what destiny leads you down here before your final hour?
PLAYER: Help me, good Crimson, I need your help, I’ll listen well and note well, what I hear! And if the misery along these sterile sands, and my charred and peeling flesh make me, and what I ask, repulsive to you, let my great worldly strength persuade your heart to tell me, who you are, how you can walk safely with living feet through Hell itself!
CRIMSON: Move on, you, pimp, you can't cash in on women here!
[fight between Player and Crimson]
CRIMSON: Bah! I cannot beat you! But now… behold the beast with three eyes, that passes mountains, annulling walls and weapons, behold the one, that makes the whole world stink!
Marshall walks in from the right.
CRIMSON: Look at that imposing one approaching, who does not shed a single tear of pain: what majesty he still maintains down there!
PLAYER: Again, I know this face from somewhere, I am sure!
MARSHALL: Not so fast, you there, rushing ahead through this heavy air, perhaps from me you can obtain an answer. But why do you feast your gaze on me more than those of other dirty beasts?
PLAYER: Because, remembering well, I've seen you without your mask on, once or twice. My pleasure is what pleases you: you are my Lord, you know that from your will I would not swerve. You even know my thoughts!
CRIMSON: Hey, Marshall, dig your claws down deep into his back and peel the skin off him! Let's see, if you can outmatch the great Marshall!
PLAYER: Now I've been caught!
[fight between Player and Marshall]

SCENE 4: Flagellum Dei
STAGE: Aphotic_Paramount
DR.BEORN: You were not born to live like mindless brutes, but to follow paths of excellence and knowledge. Mine is the power, as you cannot deny, locking and unlocking Heaven & Hell. Two keys I have, those keys my predecessor, Mark, did not cherish. You'd better tell me, who you are, or else I'll not leave one hair on your head!
PLAYER: Go on and strip me bald and pound and stamp my head a thousand times, you'll never hear my name or know my true nature!
DR.BEORN: May your guts burn with thirst that cracks your tongue, may they burn with rotting tumors, that swell your hedge of a paunch to block your eyes! Now see the monstrous punishment, you there still breathing, looking at the dead, see if you find suffering to equal mine! What are you staring at? Why do your eyes insist on drowning there below, among those wretched, broken shades?
PLAYER: To talk about the bottom of the universe the way it truly is, is no child's play, no task for tongues, which gurgle baby-talk! I watched moon after moon after moon go by, when, finally, I dreamed the evil dream, which ripped away the veil that hid my future!
DR.BEORN: Before we start to struggle here, O, peasant, I wish you would explain some things to me. Where from you are? And how can you be in this plain, still alive and not dead? And how, in so little time, could you get here from the First Circle of Hell?
PLAYER: Why not? But first, this peasant will show you, how to beat the dirt to the ground!
[fight between Player and Dr.Beorn]

SCENE 5: Vive la guerre éternelle
STAGE: ¹q¸ô°g®c (dw alert)
PLAYER: Golly! What IS this place? Have I reached the End Game Level? Did the scriptwriter suffer an author’s block on this event?
CURLY: What’s THIS we have HERE?
Caesar runs in from the right.
CAESAR: Curly! We have a breach in the system! I don’t know, whether it’s a bug or a virus, or whatnot, though, but this is freaking SERIOUS business!
CURLY: This existent is neither a bug nor a virus, Ceasar! He’s human, all too human! And we HATE humans around here! (To Player.) Who ARE you, my little traveler?
PLAYER: Like you said, I’m human, all too human, and, also, I’m a little traveler, a little fighter!
CAESAR: Well, shucks! Me and Curly – we’re Artificially Intellectualized Androids!
PLAYER: Really?! I have to say, as you hate humans, I HATE robots!
CURLY: But, why? What have we DONE to YOU?
PLAYER: To be a robot is to be deficient, emotionally limited; roboticy is a deficiency disease and robots are emotional cripples. The robot is completely egocentric, trapped inside itself (I dare not say, “him” or “her”), incapable of empathizing or identifying with others, of love, friendship, affection or tenderness. It is a completely isolated unit, incapable of rapport with anyone. It is a half dead, unresponsive lump, incapable of giving or receiving pleasure or happiness; consequently, it is at best an utter bore, an inoffensive blob, since only those capable of absorption in others can be charming. A robot is a machine, a walking dildo.
CURLY: Well, EXCUSE us! Let me tell you: your responses are entirely visceral, not cerebral; your intelligence is a mere tool in the service of your drives and needs; you are incapable of mental passion, mental interaction; you can’t relate to anything, other than your own physical sensations…
PLAYER: I am not wrong. I’ll show you with my rhetorics. Everything with you is “the influence of environment,” and nothing else. Your favourite phrase! From which it follows that, if society is normally organized, all crime will cease at once, since there will be nothing to protest against and all men will become righteous in one instant. Human nature is not taken into account, it is excluded, and it’s not supposed to exist! You don’t recognize that humanity, developing by a historical living process, will become at last a normal society, but you believe that a social system, that has come out of some mathematical brain, is going to organize all humanity at once and make it just and sinless in an instant, quicker than any living process! That’s why you instinctively dislike history, “nothing, but ugliness and stupidity in it,” and you explain it all as stupidity! That’s why you so dislike the living process of life; you don’t want a living soul! The living soul demands life, the soul won’t obey the rules of mechanics, the soul is an object of suspicion, the soul is retrograde! But what you want though it smells of death and can be made of India-rubber, at least is not alive, has no will, is servile and won’t revolt! And it comes in the end to your reducing everything to the building of walls and the planning of rooms and passages in a phalanstery! The phalanstery is ready, indeed, but your anti-human nature is not ready for the phalanstery – it wants life, it hasn’t completed its vital process, it’s too soon for the graveyard! You can’t skip over nature by logic. Logic presupposes three possibilities, but there are millions! Cut away a million, and reduce it all to the question of comfort! That’s the easiest solution of the problem! It’s seductively clear and you mustn’t think about it. That’s the great thing, you mustn’t think! The whole secret of life in three cyber-books of print!
CURLY: If existents are divided into “Human” and “Program”... Programmed existents have to live in submission, have no right to transgress the law, because, don’t you see, they are programs. But humanistic existents have a right to commit any crime and to transgress the law in any way, just because they are human. That was your idea, if I am not mistaken?
PLAYER: That wasn’t quite my contention. Yet, I admit that you have stated it almost correctly; perhaps, if you like, perfectly so. The only difference is that I don’t contend that humanistic existents are always bound to commit breaches of morals, as you call it. In fact, I doubt whether such an argument could be published. I simply hinted that a “Human” person has the right… that is not an official right, but an inner right to decide in his own conscience to overstep… certain obstacles, and only in case it is essential for the practical fulfilment of his idea (sometimes, perhaps, of benefit to the whole of Humanity).
As for my division of existents into “Program” and “Human”, I acknowledge that it’s somewhat arbitrary, but I don’t insist upon exact numbers. I only believe in my leading idea that existents are in general divided by a law of nature into two categories, “Program” (ordinary), that is, so to say, material that serves only to serve the higher kind, and existents, who have the gift or the talent to utter a new word (extraordinary). There are, of course, innumerable sub-divisions, but the distinguishing features of both categories are fairly well marked. The first category, generally speaking, are existents conservative in temperament and law-abiding; they live under control and love to be controlled. To my thinking, it is their duty to be controlled, because that’s their vocation, and there is nothing humiliating in it for them. The second category all transgresses the law; they are destroyers or disposed to destruction according to their capacities. The crimes of these “Human” existents are, of course, relative and varied; for the most part they seek in very varied ways the destruction of the present for the sake of the better. But if such a one is forced for the sake of his idea to step over a corpse or wade through blood, he can, I maintain, find within himself, in his conscience, a sanction for wading through blood – that depends on the idea and its dimensions, note that. It’s only in that sense I speak of their right to crime. There’s no need for such anxiety, however; the masses will scarcely ever admit this right, they punish them or hang them (more or less), and in doing so fulfil quite justly their conservative vocation. But the same masses set these criminals on a pedestal in the next generation and worship them (more or less). The first category is always the existent of the present, the second the existent of the future. The first preserve the world and ordinary in it, the second move the world and lead it to its goal. Each class has NO equal right to exist. In fact, NONE have equal rights with me – and vive la guerre éternelle – till the New World Order, of course!
CURLY: Then you believe in the New World Order, do you?
PLAYER: I do.
CURLY: And… and do you believe in God? Excuse my curiosity.
PLAYER: I do.
CURLY: And… do you believe in Julian rising from the dead?
PLAYER: I… I do. Why do you ask all this?
CURLY: You believe it, literally?
PLAYER: Literally.
CAESAR: And what if you do catch and face Julian, again?
PLAYER: Then he gets what he deserves.
CAESAR: You are certainly logical. But, what of conscience, yours or his?
PLAYER: Why do you care about that?
CAESAR: Simply from the perspective of Humanity.
PLAYER: If he has a conscience, he will suffer for his mistake of being alive, again. That will be his punishment – as well as his prison. And my conscience? I will suffer and be sorry for my victim. Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really great men must, I think, have great sadness on Earth.
CAESAR: Then, when you were making your speech, surely you couldn’t have helped, he-he! Fancying yourself… just a little, more HUMAN than human, an Overman, as a protector of the world, the New World Order, in your sense…. That’s so, isn’t it?
PLAYER: Quite possibly.
CAESAR: Now, perhaps, you’ll face me, Caesar, and my companion, Curly, in a battle, to see, who’s better – Man or Machine!
PLAYER: Why not?
[fight between Player versus Curly&Caesar]

SCENE 6: Sanity Clause
STAGE: Burning_Future (bf)
Player teleports in. Kid Buu is sleeping, Harlequin is dancing.
PLAYER: Finally! My Final Destination! Where’s Julian, you, fiends!?
HARLEQUIN: Why, you’re SERIOUS by calling us “fiends”? I’m The Caliph of Clowns, the Grand Mogul of Mountebanks, the one and only: Harlequin! Prerecorded for this time zone is this pink guy, a REAL Disfigured Outcast, a Comedian of Destruction, a Notorious Crime God! But hey, who am I to talk, I’m crazy as a coot!
PLAYER: I see you’re as mad as a hatter, but I’m here, in this final circle of Hell, to kill Julian!
HARLEQUIN: I don’t know, why, but you LOOK serious? Maybe I could rehabilitate you from your edge and loneliness with a KILLING joke… What do you say, if I eat you ALIVE?
PLAYER: Get a load of this gloomy threat! It’s NOT funny…
HARLEQUIN: But, it IS so funny, you know, SO funny, it PATHETICALLY hurts. When I was a little boy and told people I was going to be a comedian, everyone laughed at me. Well, no one’s laughing now! I’m the keeper of BALANCE, here, you see. You don’t want this pink KID, this monster of chaos, this BUU, to wake up, you, you, you… FIEND, ha! He’ll burn EVERYTHING down, while dancing in the pale moonlight and glittering flames! How’s THAT for a PUNCHLINE! How’s that for a CRACK! How’s that for a chronic, lingering, midnight, cockroach-on-steroids, rabbit-hole-enema FUNNY!
PLAYER: Very neat! That UGLY head of yours DOESN’T have any brain! That UGLY body of yours DOESN’T have any blood!
HARLEQUIN: Ladies and murderers, welcome to the LOONY FIGHT! And you’re ONE fully functioning suicidal artist!
PLAYER: Do I LOOK like I’m joking?
HARLEQUIN: After this, I’m creating an encyclopediadramatica article about you! You’ll be front page news! What I call ahead of the curve! HAHAHAHAHA!!!
PLAYER: Let’s wipe that smiling smirk OFF your face!
[fight between Player and Harlequin]
Kid Buu wakes up.
KID BUU: What’s this NOISE in MY hell?
PLAYER: This Harlequin trickster was WEAK. Listen, Kid! I’m concerned with Julian: where IS he?
KID BUU: JULIAN, you say! He ascended! I made him into an Ultimate God! He, now, goes by the name: Jason… Search for him somewhere else, somewhere in Heaven, somewhere else than HERE! I’m going BACK to beddy, back to my castly… So, SO sleepy… Yaaaaawnnnnnn!
[Kid Buu exists to the right; then, returns from off screen]
KID BUU: Unless, of course, you want to ENTERTAIN me with a FIGHT!?
PLAYER: Everything to make you HAPPY!
[fight between Player and Kid Buu]

SCENE 7: Enemy of Gods
STAGE: skycity (sc)
Four characters are kneeling, waiting.
AERON: When is Jason The Almighty making an appearance?
WALTER: I don’t know, but he SAID he’ll be here, so, let’s WAIT!
EARTH: Ditto!
ZACK: Man, this bridge has one fine, nice VIEW!
Player teleports in.
PLAYER: I really, REALLY, hope this is my LAST stop! What do we have HERE?
All four characters stand up, facing Player.
AERON: Welcome, dear wanderer! “What do we have here?” you ask. This is the Lost City of Atlantis! I’m Aeron – the Wind God, this is Walter – the Water God, here’s Earth – the, um… Earth God, and, lastly, this is Zack – the Fire God! The way I see it, you’re HUMAN, right?
PLAYER: Yes, I see, thanks for clearing things up… And, yes, I’m HUMAN; I recently had this argument with two bonkers of programs, but, yes, why not, let me ask: what is your BEEF with Mankind?
AERON: All humans are brainless rascals, who, if left to their own designs, would make this Civilization as uninhabitable. We may as well let cute little bunny rabbits run amok without the benefit of predatory thinning. For this reason, all humans must be subjugated and live forever “in their place”. My perspective is not a question of Gods versus Humans, it is a question of the symbiosis of PREDATOR and PREY. Humans are dumber, slower, weaker, more emotional, less rational... in other words, inferior to the predatory Gods. Thus, it is only fitting they assume the role of prey. I don't hate humans. A lion does not hate the gazelle. He merely hunts it and devours it. It is the balance of nature. The human is ours to hunt and devour. It is that simple!
WALTER: I know exactly what I want. My spirit is perpetually hard, and I only quell my appetite, when I experience the subjugation and degradation of the Human. My life is the perpetual hunt to feed the perpetual hunger. I recognize no moral WILL in relation to the Human, only the WILL to exercise power over him. I owe him nothing, but his place on the carnal food chain. I glorify him by making him my prey. That is his only real worth under natural law. I wish to see all humans bound and beaten, then battered into utter submission. I wish to inflict horrors upon their gloriously defiled bodies, the likes of which their feeble minds could never conceive. It is that simple!
EARTH: All humans are rascals, regardless of age, race, looks, etc. They are food, prey. If we do not eat of them, we die. The Human is biologically predetermined to submit to his role as prey, just as any other quarry in the animal kingdom is born following a similar course. We do not have “victim support groups” for antelopes in the wild, or barnyard mice being hunted by cats – why do we have them for humans? What, if the cheetah had to follow certain rules, while hunting? What, if the jaguar had to ensure its prey a comfortable, painless death? The animal kingdom would be thrown into chaos! It is that simple!
ZACK: On its most basic level, killing is feeding, nothing less. On a more sublime plane, however, we should be concerned not with physical killing, but soul killing. We must violate the spirit as well as the body, crushing it, subjugating it. It is misanthropy, and I possess freedom of action to it. It is that simple!
PLAYER: Let’s see, if it’s really THAT simple! Defend yourselves, for I am your ENEMY! I’m going to do you, Gods, a favor and bash in your skulls in with my own two hands and two feet! You were the mistakes of existence, and now the bells toll for you! Can you HEAR it? Because I’ll MAKE you HEAR it!
[fight between Player and the four characters]
Jason walks in from the right.
JASON: BAH! Can’t the Highest God in existence have some PEACE of mind!? And I thought Demon Kings had it BAD! Oh, it’s you – my DEFEATIST! What is your CONCERN at being here?
PLAYER: You should ask: what is not supposed to be my concern! First and foremost, the Good Cause, then God's cause, the cause of mankind, of truth, of freedom, of humanity, of justice; further, the cause of my people, my prince, my fatherland; finally, even the cause of Mind, and a thousand other causes. Only my cause is never to be my concern! But, I’ll make YOU my CONCERN!
JASON: You have much profound information to give about me, God, and have for thousands of years “searched the depths of the Godhead”, and looked into its heart, so that you can doubtless tell how me, God, attends to “God's cause”, which you are called to serve. And you do not conceal the mine, as Lord's of both Hell & Heaven, doings, either. Now, what is my cause? Have I, as is demanded, made an alien cause, the cause of truth or love, my own? You are shocked by this misunderstanding, and you instruct, that mine, God's, cause is indeed the cause of truth and love, but that this cause cannot be called alien, because me, God, is himself truth and love; you are shocked by the assumption, that me, God, could be like you, poor worms, in furthering an alien cause as my own. “Should God take up the cause of truth, if he were not himself truth?” I care only for my cause, but, because I am all in all, therefore all is my cause! But you, you are NOT all in all, and your cause is altogether little and contemptible; therefore you must think of “serving a higher cause”. – Now it is clear, you think, that I, God, care only for what is mine, busy myself only with myself, think only of myself, and have only myself before mine eyes; woe to all that is not well-pleasing to me! I serve no higher person, and satisfy only myself. My cause, like YOURS, is – a purely egoistic cause!
How is it with mankind, whose cause we are to make our own? Is its cause that of another, and does mankind serve a higher cause? No, mankind looks only at itself, mankind will promote the interests of mankind only, mankind is its own cause. That it may develop, it causes nations and individuals to wear themselves out in its service, and, when they have accomplished what mankind needs, it throws them on the dung-heap of history in gratitude. Is not mankind's cause – a purely egoistic cause?
Look at the rest for yourself, Player! Do truth, freedom, humanity, justice, desire anything else than that you grow enthusiastic and serve them?
PLAYER: But only look at yourself, yourself, GOD, ha! You have set your cause on nothing, but yourself; you are to yourself all in all, you are to yourself the only one, and tolerate nobody, who would dare not to be one of “your minions”!
JASON: Since I was called Julian, the Lord of Non-existence, therefore, I am nothing in the sense of emptiness, but, NOW, I am the creative nothing, the nothing out of which I myself as creator create everything! You think at least the “good cause” must be your concern? What's good, what's bad? Why, I myself am my concern, and I am neither good nor bad. Neither has meaning for me. The divine is mine, God's, concern; the human, man's. My concern is neither the divine nor the human, not the true, good, just, free, etc., but solely what is mine, and it is not a general one, but is – a unique, as I am unique. Nothing is more to me than myself!
PLAYER: What doesn’t kill you, makes you… THE STRANGEST!
[fight between Player and Jason]

EPILOGUE

SCENEXX: Inner heroism
STAGE: beach
PLAYER: I awoke on a beach, like a man drained of blood, who wanders alone in a waste of rushes and, finally, I understood, why others fear me; now I know, how they feel, when they see me… They fear me, because I drink milk for mass! I will rest for the night and finish this pint of delicious, fat MOLOKO… Then, sleep…

SCENEXX: Nihil ex nihilo
STAGE: Beachdark
PLAYER: What comes around, goes around… The real reward is therefore the journey itself, and not the perceived goal. And now is the time to leave this place, for I have seen it all. Home is where I am, and I’m going to it!
The red-dressed Jan walks into the scene from the right.
JAN: It’s time to determine, how bold you’ve become and what you’ve learned on your travels... You’re FINAL opponent is… ME!
[fight between Player and Jan]

A GAME BY TITAS ŽIBIKAS!
THANK YOU FOR PLAYING!

-GAME OVER-

Bonjourno, my Emperors!
The 3 story mode scripts/books, although some edits are still needed, are done. Finally! Clocked over 15k words here... I consider my readers to be smart and erudite people, who can figure out and interpet the left-out/un-explained parts on their own, so, that's that. Since there won't be a playable Stage Mode, I suggest you to role-play some of the scenes (like... any scene you desire).
If you want an early experience/taste of the planned story-boards' stand-alone dialogue and fighting cutscenes, NOW is your TIME to put some EFFORT into reading it!
The gist of it.
P.S. Also, going to translate this thing into Lithuanian; only the third book is left. Godspeed!
Respectfully, Titas Žibikas aka Paschendale