"Ok. I couldn't talk them out of it. They insisted on drinking after training. The alcohol will mess with their head especially when it'll go down really soon!" Arnold explained, feeling fed up.
"You can't depend on these delays. Let's go and bring them here. It shouldn't take too long if they don't resist." Pierce replied, rubbing his face. Little did they know, this would be just one of the many problems.
They jumped in the closest boat nearby.
The island looked more of a vacation spot rather than a preparation session.
"What's going on?" Arnold yelled.
"The fog's a killer, that's what. I don't know. Why are you asking me?" Pierce yelled back, covering his face.
"I see a house. I see a light. Run!" Pierce yelled.
He sprinted all the way, covering his eyes from the dust.
"Stop running like a headless chicken and slow down a little. I can only sense you through the footsteps. A bit of dirt got in my eye," Arnold recalled.
"It's beyond a struggle. It feels like an avalanche to slow down for anything," Pierce said.
The winds pushed against the two of them. It felt a massive struggle to just take another step, let alone run quickly at a consistent speed.
"I see something. Just running at the direction of my voice," Pierce yelled with all of his might.
The light beamed in his face, and he misjudged the distance.
"Ahh!" Pierce yelled, clutching his nose. He ran straight forward to the hard door. Arnold definitely heard the thud and pulled him up. The two heard a lot of giggles and clinking. Pierce banged on the door. It was locked tight.
"Open up. Fun's over!" he yelled.
"Okay calm down," Bernard yelled back.
He fiddled with the locks and opened the door.
Instantly, hit in the face full of door.
"Is this some joke to the both of you?" Pierce asked.
"Since when did you care so much about these tournaments?" Bernardo asked.
Bernard wiped the blood oozing from his nose and carried on like nothing even happened.
"You two seem too out of it to even compete?" Arnold asked.
"No. No. We're just fine. We finished the final session and are ready to head back for good." Bernard assured him.
"Let's wait it out a bit. This storm is a real killer. We might not even make it to the boat," Bernardo argued.
"Alright. I'd rather we not die in a stranded place." Pierce admitted, taking a seat.
"At most, we'd only get cussed out for being late. Meanwhile, tell us about how you magically took an interest in our shenanigans and the tournament?" Bernard asked.
"Arnold proved really stubborn. Apparently, the requirements went up to four people needed in a single team to participate. I'd rather my own personal beliefs don't end up being your downfall," Pierce explained.
He sat in a corner, closed up, chin on his knee. He patted off all the dirt and sand off his clothes.
"That's quite considerate of you. You've always walked your own path and tunnel visioned on that. You never really used to have time for us. You'd become too distant like our existence never mattered." Bernard commended.
"I realize it's the wrong way to look at it because I can't be doing my thing and expect you to wait on the sidelines, being ok about it," Pierce said.
"Aww. Our little boy is finally growing up," Bernard mocked.
"Oh, shut up. I'm older than you," Pierce shot back.
"Yeah, by a month. Not really a difference there." "Ok. So, catch us up. What have you two worked on? Any progress?" Arnold asked.
"Yes, we did everything we needed to do. Let's get back now. I'm growing sick of this place. The winds aren't beating on the doors anymore. This is our chance," Bernard said.
"Yeah. Let's go." Pierce said.
The four stood up and made a break for it to the nearest boat that got them there.
"Jeez. Did you have to steer like the boat's about to collapse?" Arnold whined.
"Hush baby. You've been worse," Bernard said, slapping him on the back of the head.
"Right. Let's get this started," Pierce said, approaching the perimeter of the arena.
"Hold it right there. Sorry men. Back to your tents," the old organizer said, pointing back to their tents.
"What is it? What's going on?" Pierce asked.
"Certain issues. Delays. Now back to your tent," he barked.
The four turned back around to their tents.
"He's gotten grouchier. Didn't think that was possible," Bernard said.
"That was nothing. I'm starting to wish that we didn't leave that island," Bernardo said. "So, all that for nothing?" Pierce said, exhausted.
They entered the tent and took a seat on the stool.
"No. We just wait," Arnold said.
"I can't wait forever. I have other priorities aswell," Pierce argued.
"Then we'd better get started, shall we?" Arnold challenged.
"You expect us to single handedly fix this?" Pierce said.
The nervous feeling really started to strike him down.
"Are you trying to mess up your efforts?"
"Oh stop. We've gone through much worse in the wilderness. This is practically childsplay. No-one here has the experience we have. How complicated can these problems really be?" Bernard assured, pushing him back to his feet.
"Think about it this way. This world can really pull a lot of surprises. Especially this tournament. It's highly respected all around the world. People follow this more than their dreams. It's life changing," Arnold said.
"Imagine how life changing it will be when we four will be known all around the world to kill any errors in this tournament?" Bernado said, clutching Pierce's shoulder and urging him to see the light.
"He is right. No-one has. But we can. Screw the statistics! Imagine the jackpot we can get from this. Even the queen herself could officially knight us from poverty into royalty! Imagine that. We can fix it all!" Bernard encouraged.
"This all sounds pretty tempting with massive risks. I just don't know what to think about anymore," Pierce said, sighing.
"This would be so much easier if you were here helping us. Think about it," Arnold said.
The three left the tent for him to make up his decision. It did nothing to avail his nervous pacing.
"It could be reported as suspicious activity though?" he muttered, thinking of the cons.
"Have you decided?" Arnold peeked through the tent flaps and whispered.
"What if someone reports us as suspicious activity with all the sneaking around?" Pierce asked.
"They never do anything about any reports. Whenever someone really reports something minor like this, they don't give it the time of day," Arnold replied.
Pierce sighed. "Ok. I'm in. Where do we start?" he asked.
"The first issue is at the combat arena. Follow me," Arnold gestured.
"I'm still feeling a bit off about this. That's how the law and rules here work. They're obliged to give a memorable reminder to anyone who steps out of line to act like a vigilante," Bernardo wondered.
"Oh. Don't tell me you're about to back down now aswell?!" Arnold asked.
"No. I could hardly abandon my friends at a time of need. Just playing devil's advocate is all. It's important to know these things are all. Let's get going," Bernardo walked past the three of them, towards the arena.
"You back here again? Did you even listen?" the organizer said, leaning onto a pole.
"We want to help you out because everyone also has things to do. What public service can we do?" Bernard asked.
"Ah. It's better than nothing, I guess. I'll add a bit of a sweetener. Get it done properly and you get an extra grand at the end of this tourney," The organizer offered.
He clearly felt confident since the money was coming out of his own pocket. "Let's shake on it," Arnold offered.
The two met halfway.
"No backing out."
The four left him there and decided to ask around for the details. The arena was always surrounded with people from town and out of town. That was the beauty of it. The diversity.
"Forgive me from your enjoyment," Pierce said, tapping on a pair of civilian's shoulders.
"Speak." He asked impatiently.
"I just want to know what's the problem?" Pierce asked.
"It's a who. A certain man who seems to hog the entire arena all the way to Christmas."
"Who is the man we're dealing with?" Arnold asked.
"Apparently the unluckiest fighter of this entire galaxy. If you can get rid of him, you each get fifty," he offered.
"That's generous of you. Consider it gone," Pierce said.
"OPEN THE GATE!" he yelled.
The four went inside to see a slumped, depressed man in the middle of the ring.
"Why can't they easily haul him out? Is this really the only issue they're scratching their heads about? Who is this creepy dude with a hoodie?" he muttered to Arnold.
"Just wait. It could be more complicated than it seems," Arnold approached the man.
"Hey buddy. How are you?" he gently asked.
He immediately turned around, gritted his teeth, and violently hissed at the four of them. He didn't utter a word and just looked at him.
"You know? I think I might just know the key here," Arnold whispered to Pierce.
"What's on your mind?" Bernardo asked.
"The simplest solutions are the most effective. He might just be looking for the easiest payday of his life. Sitting here like a beggar," Arnold said.
"My friend! What's good with you?" Arnold asked.
The man didn't seem like much of a talker in general. He seemed like he suffered a million years of misery.
"You have the grit about you who can really grind hard to achieve the big benefits. You have something in common with these guys." Arnold said, fiddling in his pocket for a few big bills.
He pulled a couple fifty's and held it out.
"Look at that, would you! I bet you're bursting with enthusiasm inside aren't you!" The man just looked on at him.
"Here's how it works, and we can work something out. You take this and leave and head for better pastures. You could be chilling in the Maldives!" Arnold said, handing over the money.
"What do you say?!"
The man took the money and ripped it in half. Arnold squealed out in despair. Pierce, Bernard, and Bernardo couldn't believe their eyes and started to realize how much of a trouble this man really was.
"That was two hundred dollars!"
"Okay. Likes to play hardball. Not much of a talker are you!?" Arnold gasped.
"How did you get here?" Arnold asked. "What do you want?" he asked in a confronting voice.
"Who sent you?!"
The four looked within each other like they were staring at a maniac.
"I don't know what to think anymore," Bernard muttered.
"When all else fails, let's carry him out of here. What do you say?" Pierce suggested.
"No. Have you gone mad? We have to do this properly," he muttered.
"Are you looking for someone to fight?" Arnold asked.
The man nodded.
"I can fight you. What's your record?" Pierce asked.
"That's exactly it! I'm horrible. I made an unbreakable vow or promise, and it would cost me everything if I broke it and left the place. I was stupid enough to even do this. He offered extraordinary benefits," the unlucky loner revealed.
"It's cold in this massive cage. So, if you want to duel? Step forward and don't be shy. I'm pretty sure I'll lose again."
The man got up and went to the other side of the arena. He stopped Arnold from doing this.
"I know what to do. Let me deal with this and follow my lead." Pierce said.
Pierce pulled out a prop sword and tossed one over to his unlucky partner across from him.
First one to yield! That sound fair?" Pierce asked. "Deal. I just want a way out."
Pierce pretended to come forward hard with fury, but lightly, but slowly executed his attacks, making it easily predictable, and made sure to give him enough time to dodge and counter. Reflexes weren't his strong suit it seemed. Moving at hundred miles an hour. The unlucky man easily ducked and pulled off flurries of hits on Pierce. Pierce came with a few light rebuttals. He made sure to not put his body into those strikes. Pierce panted hard like he was on the verge of losing for good. It went for a while and he pretended to kneel, acting drained like his younger self in karate classes when his core couldn't take any more hits.
"I.. Won…" the man said, in a state of shock.
Pierce stood back up.
"That you did. Congratulations. One of the few as well. Need me to sign your sword?"
"Of course!" Pierce quickly wrote a small inscription underneath the signature so this wouldn't happen again.
He handed it back to him.
"There you are. Go off!" Pierce said.
"You did great, my unlucky comrade. Both of you did," Bernardo praised.
The four bowed in respect and for the first time, the unlucky man smiled at the fortune. He ran out of the arena, screaming like a warrior. Soon enough, he disappeared into the sun. Like a true ghost.
"This was a lot of fun," Bernard said.
Arnold still seemed quite upset over his hard-earned money going to waste. He gave the ghost a hard glare.
"Thanks for definitely note telling us this earlier. Throwing money in the bin like that ain't a joke when there are people suffering in this world." Arnold said, flapping his arms around.
"Na. Shut up. Shut up," Bernard said, urging him along.
The four left to collect their little reward from the villager and bet earnings from their organizer. He was a little hesitant to give up so much, but a word is a word at the end of the day.
"Do you have any shame, old man? Any honor?" Arnold challenged.
"Oh fine." He grumbled, but handed over the small bag, jiggling with coins.
"Hope we can do more bets in the future?" Pierce teased.
The old man shrugged him off and went to his tent.
"Arghh.." He growled.
The four chuckled within themselves at the salt to top it off. Bernardo turned around and pointed to the arena slowly getting packed.
"That's great news. Look. The arena is back in full swing. We should do this more often."