How Should I Feel?

She had a snow cone in Hell. But colors of the rainbow couldn't brighten the day, and ice certainly couldn't cool it. Heat waves hovered over every surface... anything remotely frozen liquefying within minutes. The choices were all but comforting: sit around in artificial air and waste the day away indoors... or endure the mid-to-late 80s, with humidity that made it impossible to breathe, outside. We chose the latter. And she was content.

When you bring a snow cone into Hell, you know the consequences. You know you'll have nothing left but cheap tasting 'juice'. You'll be left with something that... isn't even the original product. A product that, ironically, was meant to aid you in this instance. But as she stood there licking at her arm, where the colorful liquid had left streaks of stickiness... I wondered...

How should I feel?

I'm not a pessimist. And I'm certainly not an optimist. Now, would I say I'm closest to a realist? Possibly. But even then... who can constantly endure reality? For example... the burning feeling you get not just in the heat, but metaphorically... when you fail... when humiliated. Or, more literally, when simply dehydrated. How do you relieve it? A pessimist would simply say there's no way... they'll always be hot, they'll always be a failure. An optimist... they'll pick themselves back up. They'll drink a glass of water. But... liquids can only help so much. You're still fried like chicken wings on the fourth of July. That glass of H2O doesn't stop you from morphing into a lobster.

Butter, anyone?

Anyway, a five star dinner can come later (and will, of course). The point... snow cones. The everlasting question... are they worth it? An even better question... does it matter? A snow cone's chance in Hell is slim, but that wouldn't stop her from getting one. A competitor's chance in the ring against the Baddest Bitch has a similar probability... but that certainly doesn't stop people from stepping through those ropes. Is it crazy? Is it ignorant? Is it... pointless? Or... is it simply... to retain something they refuse to lose?

"How... cocky."

I whispered this, as my pale eyes followed the movement of my own hand. Slipping between my fingers in an almost rhythmic pattern was a simple stone. Smooth, oval in shape, and a silvery gray in color... somehow, this little rock... though I'd found it sitting right in the rays of the blazing sun... was cool to the touch. No matter how long I held it... no matter how tightly it was clenched in my fist... it never lost that feeling. As I stopped moving my fingers, I let the stone fall onto my palm, and mere seconds after I'd spoken...

"I don't think rocks got cocks, Cera Bear."

"What?" I looked over at Jen Ryette, who slurped the liquefied snow cone from the bottom of it's cheap, funnel shaped covering. She held it at an angle so that it didn't spill out when she spoke again.

"Your lil rocky there, that ya just wished was 'cocky'. It ain't got a disco stick, silly!" She waved a finger at me and giggled, "I know ya wish it did, since I can cut the sexual tension 'round us with a chainsaw, but cum on... you can do better than a rock. Maybe."

"... sometimes I wonder if you're being intentionally idiotic to get on my nerves."

"That depends on if it's workin' or not, oni-chan!"

"Why do I feel like there wasn't enough emphasis on-"

"CUZ! There's lotsa demons in Heck, and ya said that's where we are!"

"No, West Virginia is Hell... this? This just feels like Hell." I responded with a scowl, as I tugged at the collar of my tanktop. It was tight fitting, intricately if not artistically hand-shredded at parts, and I sure as hell wasn't going to wear a bra in this weather. But even with that, I was hot. And yes, I do mean that in both ways.

"Whyyy... we ain't in da south no morrrre!" Jen whined, and I couldn't help but smirk.

"The Midwest is getting a wave of both summer heat, and tiresome storms, bringing on quite a bit of humidity. Such bipolar conditions... geez."

"Make it stooopppp..."

I held back a snicker. She wasn't enjoying this weather. Me? I loved the heat. Thrived off of it. Winter was my enemy, but I welcomed the summer sun with open arms. Despite my contentment with the temperature, I still felt a bead of sweat trickle down my neck. It trailed over my collar bone and absorbed into my shirt, as I grimaced and clenched that still cool stone in my hand. After a couple seconds of Jen finishing off that liquid snow cone, I watched as she skipped over to the nearest trash can and tossed it in, then turned around and grinned. Her mouth and teeth were stained with the color of her treat, and I rolled my eyes as she scurried back over.

"Anyway, Jen... I must know: why the fuck you wanted to 'escape' our five star hotel room, complete with A/C, lots of tequila, and a pool... to walk along this boring-ass beach, and stare at Lake Superior? And I swear to that non-existent piece of shit that people claim is in the sky... if you tell me that it's for 'symbolism'... to compare my opponent to a damned body of water..."

"NO! We ain't comparin' Stir... Stor... St... uhm... your foe... ta the lake! What's he gotta do with bein' superior?! Psh!"

"It's Starrkadian. And I wouldn't say he doesn't relate to such a word..."

"Star... candy?"

"Starrkadian."

"Starcanadian?"

"For fuck's sake... it's STARR... KA...DI...AN..."

"...kay, Ima just call 'em Star-kitty!"

SLAP!

Palm met face in a rendezvous of shame, as I sighed loudly and growled over at Ryette in frustration. I was trying not to beat her bloody with the nearest person's beach chair, eventually deciding it was a waste of precious energy, when Ryette spoke up again. "Anywhoser... we gotta go dis way! I set somethin' up for ya!"

"Oh joy... I'm practically exploding from the overwhelming excitement that I'm feeling right now..."

"I know right! C'mon!!" Jen cried ecstatically, grabbing my arm and dragging me down the pier.

A little bit of info for you... the show was in Duluth, Minnesota. We, however, were right at the shore of Lake Superior, where the corner of the state touched the waters. It was the biggest of the Great Lakes, that much I knew. But considering nature, though I enjoyed it to some extent, wasn't my forte... that's all I cared to know. Besides the fact that it wasn't radioactive, and that people littered here as much as any other beach. Thus, the reason I decided to keep my thick heeled boots on my feet.

Yanking away from my idiot manager's hold, I gestured for her to lead the way, before pulling a single cigarette and box of matches from my pocket. Rather than bring the entire carton, I'd grabbed a few and shoved 'em into my jean shorts. I'd had a feeling that I'd need them... for the time before, and during, this upcoming Breakthrough. I shook my head, before placing the unlit cig between my rose colored lips. I then, still in toe with Jen, pulled off a match and swiped it against the box. It lit up... then went out. With a groan of frustration, I tried again... and it went out again.

"Motherfucking wind is gonna piss me right the fuck off..."

"Language Cera Bear, there's kiddies about!" Jen called behind her, and I took out another match and attempted to light it, my response a grumpy mumble...

"Like I give a fuck... aha!" The match stayed lit, and I hurriedly put it to my cigarette, cupping my hand over the flame to block it from the wind. Once my cancer stick was lit, I threw away the used match, shoved the box back into my pocket, I took a long drag on it. I took in the smell and taste of tobacco, and could almost feel the nicotine course it's way through my veins. What a goddamn relief it was. With an exhalation, I allowed the smoke to escape my lips, and it swiveled up into the air as I calmly ignored the dirty looks I got from parents as I passed them and their children.

"We're almost there Cera-channn!" Jen twirled around in a circle to give me the corniest of thumbs up, before continuing her jolly stroll along the beach. Flinching every time her flip-flops slapped her heels, I ran a hand through my hair and frowned slightly. My thoughts became more prevelant as we made our way down wherever Ryette was dragging us...

The first thing that crossed my mind was... how the hell do you even talk about Starrkadian? He was a 6 foot bowl of crazy, with over 270lbs of pure, rippling muscle. He had insanely bronzed skin that made him look like a mixture of Hercules and a Jersey Shore enthusiast, glittery and colorful attire that made him seem gayer than RuPaul and Elton John's lovechild prancing around on a TV Show on LOGO, hosted by Perez Hilton... and above all? He was, just like 98% of the rest of this damned industry.... BATSHIT CRAZY! An alien? From another galaxy? Someone was hitting their midlife crisis head-on, right out of a fucking canon.

But his persona... who he is... what he portrays... has no bearing on what'll happen when we step into the ring. Toe-to-toe? He's bigger... stronger. But certainly not meaner. Certainly not faster. He has his own... fucked up ideology that gives him purpose; that gives him a reason to wanna be victorious. Intergalactic evil... whatever. He just lost to English... Casanova English. Another loon that escaped the 'bin'. But Casanova... he's a naughty boy... again, with his own messed up beliefs that cause him to act upon his own idea of 'justice'. Starrkadian isn't much different. Thing is, he's doing it for the greater good. English, though he claims to be, isn't truly helping or trying to help anyone... well, in the ethical sense. And he won.

Casanova English is a snow cone. Just like my opponent of the week. Weird analogy, I know. I blame the heat. But... picture it. I'm Hell. Yeah, sin just got that more tempting. People like these guys? They... disappear, when I come along. Most do. Fuck, depending on the temperature... they even evaporate! What these bastards don't get is... I'm a fireball. Not just a fireball though... an intoxicated fireball. Who likes sharp objects. Yeah, imagine that shit.

"Here we aaarrrrree!" Jen suddenly sang, snapping me from my thoughts. I glanced around, noticing that we were at the edge of the shore atop a huge pile of sturdy rocks, which hung over a deeper part of the lake with the likeness of a cliff. At the edge were two things: a statue, which I noticed (as Jen skipped over) was about as tall as her. So about a whole foot shorter than me. The other item... was my warhammer. At that point, I could gather what she wanted me to do. But the location was what was befuddling me.

"Okay so... a statue of a bodybuilder, and the warhammer... what now?"

"Not just any bodybuilder!"

I could comprehend that it was a sculpture of Starrkadian. That wasn't the issue... it was just an incredibly horrible rendition. "Don't tell me you made this..."

"Naww... t'was a lil fan like a couple weeks ago or sumthin'." She flashed me a shit-eating grin. "Don't cha wish you had fans that did such lovable stuffs like this??"

"No."

"Why not?!"

"Because it's shit."

"Dat's harsh, man." Jen stuck her tongue out at me, then picked up my warhammer. She stumbled about with it slightly, but regained her footing and threw it toward me. Easily catching it with one hand, I glanced down at my weapon, then back up at my manager.

"So?"

"Come hit it!"

Ha. Thought so. With a roll of my eyes, I decided to humor the little idiot. Maybe we'd get to leave once I did. So I made my way over, reared back... and swung the weapon. It smacked against the statue.... and bounced off! I did a complete 360, nearly losing my grip on the hammer. Blinking in confusion, I stared at the sculpture as Jen spoke slowly...

"Ya know, fans are gettin' smarter. They're realizin' that their idols' adversaries can be all 'oh hey I hate dis person, Ima ruin their fan-made stuff!' and all that shiz. So they're makin' stuff made outta WAY more durable materials... ya dig?"

"What the fuck is the point of this then?!" I shouted, getting flustered by the heat, the soreness in my body, and above all... the confusion. But Jen waved me off, then pointed at the statue.

"Why don't ya try again?"

"Because I'm not insane... insanity is doing the same damn thing over and over and expecting different results every time."

"Ooo, fancy words. Then how're ya gonna get rid a' Star-Kitty?"

"It's a statue... a statue that's over two feet shorter than the real thing."

"So ya can't?"

I tensed up. I think... most people... when they're told they can't do something... they take it as a challenge. I don't. I take it as an insult. People have told me I can't do things all my fucking life. I'm worth far more than that, though. So I swung the warhammer again, just to see what would happen. It did crack, so the material wasn't as 'durable' as Jen thought. But it wasn't breaking. That's not why I did it again, though. I noticed... the sculpture moved. Just an inch. But that meant... it wasn't too heavy. And that gave me an idea. Ryette took a step back, watching with a grin, as I lowered my weapon onto the rocks and grabbed the statue. It was heavy, and I couldn't fully lift it... but I could definitely push it.

"So you... ugh... wanted me to push this off the cliff, huh?" I murmured, keeping a firm grip on the statue as I pushed it cleanly toward the edge. Jen blinked innocently at me, before shrugging her small shoulders.

"I just said get rid of it."

"But you knew I wouldn't hit it over and over with the warhammer."

"Cuz it takes too long ta accomplish da task." Jen nodded firmly, rocking back and forth on her feet. "People're funny. They think all ya are is dis dumb broad who only knows how ta kick at people and swing a warhammer."

"The warhammer doesn't fucking define me. I define it. I make it the powerful weapon it is."

"And even more important... ya don't need it, ta win. You... don't... need it." At that last sentence, Jen's tone got quite a bit more serious. I stopped pushing the statue to glance at her, and she almost seemed to be glaring at me, before she smiled again. "People have said you're kinda like a chica version a' Bruce Lee. Powerful, swift attacks like his... experienced and strong willed like him... but with a booty too!"

"I don't think..."

"Dat bum though." She bit her lip, and I rolled my eyes and stared ahead.

I knew she'd have some kind of 'plan' or 'symbolism' to this. I probably could've ended up breaking the statue, if I'd kept at it with the warhammer. But it was taking too much time... just like it would if I tried using it on Starrkadian himself. He only needed a few seconds to break my bones. And I couldn't give him that time. But above all else? People tend to only see the surface. What's right in front of them. They see me brandish a warhammer. See me use my legs. That's all I'm capable of. Right? How pathetic... how ignorant. No matter the reason, no matter the false logic... I knew how to take a heavier opponent down. I knew how to fight. I'm experienced. Intelligent. And Starrkadian's worst nightmare. At that final thought, I used a burst of adrenaline to lift the sculpture a good foot off the ground, and sent it tumbling off the cliff! I straightened as I watched it fall, a smirk playing upon my lips.

One that was about to disappear.

Almost on cue, Ryette suddenly snatched the warhammer from the ground, as the cracked but not broken statue fell off the cliff and into the water below. Without even a second passing, Jen suddenly tossed my precious weapon over her shoulder, and it followed the sculpture down off the rocks. I shoved past my manager, who nearly fell off the rocks as well (yet sadly caught herself in the nick of time), and I stared wildly over the tall rocky cliff, down at the waves crashing below, my pale eyes following the warhammer as it fell into the waters.

SPLASH!


.........


"What the FUCK is WRONG with you?!?!"

"All gone!" Jen cried, throwing her arms up cheerfully. I stared down, watching the ripples from both the statue and my warhammer fade, before turning back to her. I was debating how to massacre both her and the entire fucking country of Japan from such bullshit... when a lightbulb went off, as I remembered what we'd discussed only moments ago. Rubbing my temples, I managed to calm down enough to say...

"How should I feel, Jen...?"

"ME!"

"HOW... not WHO..."

"Oh... Jen pouted in disappointment, before she grinned again, completely ignoring my (rightful) anger. "Confident! Empowered!"

"Concerned?"

"Er... no?"

"He's much larger than I. Most definitely stronger. Though he doesn't match me in speed or cunning. Bigger, but not badder. Tougher, but not smarter. Even so... muscle can still cause some damage."

"Heck yeah it can. Specially cuz he's HUUUUUUUUUUGE! Prolly in only one way cuz a' the steroids he's defo on... hehe"

"Mhm. Though... I mean, brute strength and big arms aren't always the greatest weapons in combat..."

"I know that. And you know I know that." Ryette replied with a slight smirk, her bubbly exterior only cracking for a second, before she was grinning like a starstruck idiot again. I sighed, shaking my head. The brat knew how to make me think, and how to use my reason...

"Why... did you a get a snow cone, Jen..."

"Eh?" She looked away from the slowly calming waters, turning her head to the side like a confused dog. But I continued coolly.

"You knew it'd melt... it'd only be frozen for what? Two... maybe at the most five... minutes?"

"But those five mins were sooo tasty."

Pausing at that comment, I took a final drag on my cigarette, then flicked it onto the ground below. Stomping on it, I then crushed it into rocky surface, before responding. "So you did it for mere moments of bliss. Wasted time. Effort. Money. For what... a couple minutes of cold happiness in a cone?"

"Why do ya smoke?" Came my manager's cheery retort, as she wiggled a finger at me once again. "It don't last all day. For you, only like ten mins! Why do it, if it's gonna be gone after? Wastin' money, time, effort... on somethin' that'll kill ya."

"Anything can kill you."

"Yet we do all that shiz anyway."

"Because that one moment, those few minutes... of relief... happiness... power... whatever it is... are worth it?"

"Or, if ya think 'bout it... are needed." She grinned at me and leaned forward, dark eyes twinkling with mischief. "Addictions. Righteousness. It's all da same, yah? Ya feel like ya need it... or need ta do it... and whammo, ya take unnecessary risks! Ya don't care about the consequences, cuz dat rush makes it worth it!"

Lifting an eyebrow at Jen's words, the ghost of a smirk crossed my lips as I spoke, "Are you saying Starrkadian... and people like him... are addicted to fighting people like me?"

"Why do ya think the heroes always pursue the baddies? It ain't like it's their job or anything. They're not required ta do it. But they do anyway... cuz... it's their own sense a' justice. There's somethin' in 'em that makes them want to save or help peoples."

"Who knew morality could be a drug."

"Star-kitty's addicted ta takin' people like you down."

"That's the thing, though. There is no one like me." I suddenly laughed. There was a hint of hysteria in it, but it was mostly sardonic. "Consider me a villain if you will. Consider me on the... bad side... of every war. The immoral, if not 'evil' side. But no one even compares to me... not a pompous idiot thinking he can change the world through intricate wording and his flashy career... not a dumb kid pretending he's a 'badass' simply by publicly calling out a group of people... and most definitely not a clown whose antics grew stale and threats ended up being a waste of breath."

There was a couple seconds of silence as I paused to catch my breath, before my eyes flickered over to the lake. I could still see, in my mind, that statue floating down to the bottom of the lake. It's cracked, stone face... glorified almost to a god-like stature... disappearing into the depths. A hero... from whatever asylum he escaped from... who chased after villains. Who wanted to 'save mankind'. But this was a different scenario. It wasn't good against evil. It wasn't the good guy beating up the bad guy. It was simply a bad bitch... a demon... teaching a flamboyant ass lunatic not to underestimate who he stepped in front of every week.

With power... comes great responsibility. Was Starrkadian, a supposed 'intergalactic warrior'... prepared to be 'responsible' for his actions...? For his decisions? And most of all, for the risk he was taking in not truly understanding who... what... he was up against? Heh. Couldn't help but wonder... how should I feel? My favorite weapon carelessly thrown to the bottom of a Great Lake. Possible dehydration because tequila tastes better than water. And going up against a man who has the potential to break my streak, but the ignorance that makes him more of a feeble, helpless citizen... than a hero.

My hand subconsciously moved to my pocket again, to pull out another cigarette, but I stopped myself. With a laugh and a shake of my head, I let that hand drop, fingers dangling in the humid air, as I nonchalantly turned around and sauntered away from the pier, with Jen on my tail... my final words laced with deviance, and sarcastically masked by faux innocence...

"I wonder what kind of games aliens like to play..."

-------------------------------------------------------------
~This has been a V rp, thanx for reading and have a great f*cking day!~