"What do you guys want?!" Jason growled from his seat.
The leader of the group, Hendrickson, began to sniff the air and with an evidently disgusted expression, he said to his group,
"Do you guys smell that? That stink wafting the air, polluting the atmosphere of this fine hall? It's unique, this stink. It can only belong to those from Bermuda!!"
Jason gritted his teeth, to a grind and clenched his fists, till his knuckles were almost white, in a desperate attempt to stem down the furious rage, which almost bubbled up to the surface. The anger on Illenia's face was also very much telling, though not close to Jason's degree. But Douglas, the main victim, was poker-faced calm. There wasn't any single emotion that could be detected.
"I wonder how you guys do it." Hendrickson said to Jason and Illenia. "I wonder how you guys are able to comfortably eat, with this shit stain sitting right beside you. I feel nauseated even standing here."
"Then, why are you here? Did you just come here to insult me?" Douglas coolly asked.
"Oh, it speaks. That's surprising." Hendrickson sarcastically said, "To do you the undeserved courtesy of answering your question, I am here to announce myself to Williams Jason, the junior commander of the red monks; conqueror of the terror dragon of Andreda. It would be an honor to battle such a hero. But as for you, you bottom feeder, you are like dog shit stuck to a slipper. Even if you remove the shit, the stink would still be there, no matter how much one washes. I will be in charge of taking good care of you tomorrow. Your life is worthless anyway, so I will do you the disservice of ending it in an undignified manner. That way everyone can sleep in peace and the sanctity of the tournament would once more be restored."
"I see." Douglas simply said, as he began studying his opponent for tomorrow.
"Oh and please have some dignity, don't surrender. I don't know how you did it, how you meandered your way into this tournament, but don't waste the magnanimousness that the capital has shown unto you. At the very least, you death would be entertaining and delightful to watch, and you never know, it might even scrape off some of the shit your province has incurred. You might just die a martyr, for your people. Isn't that a glorious death?" Hendrickson nastily added.
"Just like everyone else participating, with hopes of been crowned the champion, I have such aspirations as well. I have never planned to ever surrender and so, I won't be doing such tomorrow. And, I have no intention of dieing so soon" Douglas resolutely said, though still with no emotion on his expression.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!
A burst of irritating, mocking laughter suddenly erupted from Hendrickson.
HAHAHAHAHA!!!
A chain reaction then occurred, as his gang, like backup singers to a lead performer, supported him with their own laughter, and unconsciously forced the spectators in the hall, whom were fixated on the show, to chime in with their own laughter.
Though, no one really got the joke, nor understood the core reason for the laughter, except the instigator, but as long as it had to do with having a poke at the most hated person in the capital right now, even the most boring, insensitive joke, would be to their ears like comedy from the most seasoned jester.
Anyone would have felt abashed or humiliated by this. Jason and Illenia certainly felt uncomfortable. But, Douglas still had his unemotional expression on. The guy continued to slurp down his soup unconcerned, like he wasn't the one been made fun of.
"What a joke!! I have just heard the joke of the century!!" Hendrickson said, while wiping the tears wetting his eyes, "You having aspirations to win the tournament? You thinking you are like everyone else? What? Do fishes believe they can fly like the birds in the sky? Do dogs think they can become human? Can an ant best the enormousness of a dragon? You know, you should have a career as a clown or a comedian. I haven't been cracked up this hard before. I honestly could employ you as my personal jester!! HAHAHAHA!!!"
"What's so wrong in me having aspirations for this tournament, hmm? Am I not human like everyone else? Don't I not have the same compositions and intricacies? Isn't the same blood not flowing through my veins?" Douglas dropped the spoon and gently said.
Hendrickson scoffed, as he slowly began taking short strides towards where Douglas was seated.
"I hate to break it to you, but you and your people are far below the standard of humans. You are all worse than insects. At least in this great nation, the insects, the fishes, the birds, the beasts; they all have their uses. They all contribute in some way, to the ecosystem. But you people, you people in Bermuda are like parasites. Parasites that we unfortunately can't get rid of. A smudge, a stain, a shame. You have no use, no function. Bermuda just exists. A gargantuan insult to the nation. How can you then be classified as humans? You are just like the dust on the ground under my foot, grateful for been stepped on by every creature, day in, day out. You are nothing. You all are pathetic."
He was now in front of Douglas, just a few meters away. He looked down to the table and slowly picked up Douglas's hot bowl of soup. He pretended to study the contents of the bowl, as he swirled it and spoke,
"Your kind shouldn't be voraciously feasting on the sweet delicacies of we, humans. You should be in the gutters or in the trash, hustling for the scraps we leave behind. No, I have got to make this right."
'I have got to make this right.' This statement made the onlookers to ponder in anticipation of what he might do next. Of how he was going to 'remedy the situation.'
He didn't disappoint.
To everyone's surprise, Hendrickson suddenly overturned the bowl and emptied the contents on Douglas's head! The soup dripped down Douglas's ponytail hair, with some running down his face, his short, scruffy beard, his neck and down to his clothes. He was drenched all over with soup. Hot soup. It couldn't get more humiliating than this!
"ALRIGHT, I HAVE HAD IT, YOU SLIMY SON OF A B*TCH!!!!"
Jason screamed as, he jumped up from his chair and flipped the table away in one fell swoop. The table made some circular rotations in the air, before crashing far away at a corner. The spaghetti and the remaining steak spilled on the tiled floor, while the respective plates which once housed this contents, shattered into pieces at another corner. This heavy, ivory table was flung away like a weightless piece of paper!
"Ready your whip, Illenia, we are going to fuck up this bastard! He can't just think he can do whatever he likes and get away with it!" Jason said, as red flames burst forth on both arms.
He couldn't contain his rage any longer, as he lunged after Hendrickson.
The temperature of the room skyrocketed in an instant. The tension had reached its breaking point.
Hendrickson scrambled a couple of steps backwards, to avoid Jason's attack, but he was too late.
A fist of fire hurtled its way at breakneck speed towards his face. It carried so much force, so much velocity and power, that Hendrickson could greatly feel the hot, onrushing breeze that pioneered this punch, squarely on his face!
It was like an electric fan blowing hot air directly at his face!
There was no way he could defend himself on such short notice, as he had never calculated, nor expected that Jason would act so impulsively all of a sudden.
The rule on fighting outside of the arena was already clearly stated, as well as the punishment for doing such. No sane person, especially a contestant, would want to go against this rule, no matter how aggrieved or provoked. It was the reason why he had acted so brashly.
But clearly he had underestimated Jason or rather overestimated Jason's tolerance.
And his face was about to pay dearly for it!
Right at the moment Jason's fist reached less than an inch away from its intended target, his momentum suddenly reached an abrupt halt. His fist could go no further. It couldn't sink into it's intended target's face.
A hand was pressing down onto his fist, despite the raging flames wildly burning on it and forcefully stopping its momentum.
"Douglas, what the hell are you doing? Leave me to deal with this f*cking bastard!"
"I should be asking you that same question, stupid!! What the f*ck do you think you are about to do?! Are you intending to get disqualified from the tournament?!! Is that it, hmmm?! Because, I don't see any other reason why you would act this foolishly!" Douglas said, as he squeezed Jason's fist tighter, ignoring the searing pain of the fire, sizzling on his flesh.
His once emotionless face was now covered completely in rage. Not rage at the humiliation he has suffered, but rage at Jason's action thereafter.
Jason instantly remembered where he was and came back to his senses. He hurriedly dropped his fist and scanned around to see, if any official was present and had witnessed what he was about to do. He breathed out a sigh of relief, at the non-discovery of any.
If he had landed that punch he would have been a goner for sure, as word would have spread of his action, but as long no official was present, he couldn't be punished for the intent. He was stopped right in the nick of time.
He wanted to earnestly thank Douglas, but upon discovery of his friend's angry facial expression, he dropped his head downward and disappointedly remained quiet, like a timid little kid.
Hendrickson took some hurried steps backwards and plopped his butt down to the floor. He took some deep breaths to calm the raging flood of agitation within him.
That was some serious force behind that punch!!
His face would have definitely been disfigured, if that shit had landed! The f*cker had some insanely, explosive power! And the red blazing flame made matters worse! Its heat was hot as f*ck!!! And it greatly added more velocity and acted as a propellant force!
He grossly underestimated Jason!
His followers quickly came to his side to tend to him and they assisted in lifting him up. He stared at Douglas, whom was now berating Jason harshly, while the latter had on an apologetic look and was nodding his head in approval of his harsh words, like a chick picking rice.
He should have felt gratitude or appreciation, especially when he noticed the dirty smoke still wafting off from his palm, obstructing the damage on his palm.
But his inflated ego wouldn't afford him such rational thinking. Not after he had dished insults after insults.
Anyone else, but him. The piece of shit from Bermuda. The worm that should be squirming under his feet. The cockroach that should be stepped upon and squashed. How dare the weak, the impoverished, the reproached, come to his aid? His boots should be on his neck, as he pleads for mercy and sustenance. As the bottom feeder rubs his palms and expects the sweet trickles of his golden saliva. That's how it should be.
No, what he felt was more disdain and disgust. He felt so aggrieved. Not at Jason the assaulter, but at the Bermudian, his savior.
"Hahahaha!!" Hendrickson sniggered snidely, "Your father might have been a fool and an absolute heap of garbage, but at least he taught you well. You know how to serve your masters. I almost just considered sparing your filthy life tomorrow."
Douglas body suddenly shivered for a second. He shifted to face Hendrickson and with a deep timbre resounding in his voice, he coldly asked, "What did you just say about my father?"
"Huh." Hendrickson grinned maliciously. He had finally found what made his victim tick. "That your papa's idiot brain is been fucked by stupid and you inherited the genes of an imbecile!"
Momentary silence descended in the hall.
Douglas had a sharp glint in his eyes, like that of a wolf in moonlight, about to pounce on his long, stalked prey. He stared down Hendrickson with the coldest of looks for a few seconds, his soiled face twitching in rage. The spectators in the hall believed without a doubt, that shit was about to go down. That this would be the final straw to break the camels back. Even Jason was readying himself to obstruct Douglas, for he knew Douglas too well and he knew that disrespecting the name of his father, was a soft spot for Douglas.
But Douglas just sighed deeply, exuding out a lot of pent-up hot air. He smiled to mask his rage and asked,
"What is your name?"
"Glad you asked. I wouldn't want to send you to hell to join your ancestors, without you knowing who sent you on your way." Hendrickson also smiled, although, his was deprecating,
"This great one's name is Philemon Hendrickson, grandson to the high priest of the blue wind sect in the Jogota province. Your meaningless life would be in my hands tomorrow. You should be honored."
Douglas turned around and began walking towards the exit of the hall,
"Jason, properly clean up the mess you've made, and as for you, Philemon Hendrickson, we shall meet in the arena!!"