Simple, but effective

Pressure Point 65
June 23, 2003

A blood feud. Fiend vs. Sharc could be summed up no better way. It was all about deep, dark hate that went as deep as their lives. It was no doubt going to come to a head at Till Death Do Us Part, but there was still a week before having to worry about that. No, for tonight, revenge was yet again on the mind of two people. Tonight, they were Sharc and Diamondback.

Diamondback, yet another of Sharc's friends, wanted to get a piece of Fiend. And with Sharc, yet again booked away from Fiend, somebody had to do some nasty, vile things to Fiend. Who better to do those things then the man who was Sharc's mentor, Diamondback. He may not be the most original, but his methods work. And they were just about ready to strike on Fiend. Only he didn't just know it yet.

Fiend strolled down a long hall, just familiarising himself with the environment in which he was working in. It was always good to know your surroundings. You don't want to find yourself hiding and not knowing.

He came down the long hall just whistling a tune inside his head. His mind kept flittering to what Sharc and his boyfriend was up to. He knew they'd have some plans. They had. Once there was four and now there were two.

Fiend is good at subtraction.

Very good.

And then, there stood the last man who would be in his sights: Sharc. Fiend turned the corner and the two ran into each other. Neither man giving an inch. It was just a stare. No attack. No verbal trashings. Just a stare.

And a beer bottle being smashed on the back of Fiend's head, getting a surprising pop from the crowd. The blow barely dazed Fiend. But that was OK.

Diamondback was prepared.

SMASH

After the sixth bottle of beer smashed over his skull, Fiend was down and busted. Diamondback and Sharc stared down at him. Sharc looked as if he were about to move in for the kill, but Diamondback put an arm against his chest. Diamondback motioned with his neck for Sharc to follow him. He did.

Leaving Fiend alone. Bloody. Without a single word spoken.

Fiend pulled himself up onto his knees as blood poured down over his face and down, soaking his white wifebeater. He reached back to the back of his skull and dislodged an inch by inch wide shard of glass. He looked at it and tossed it aside.

This was a declaration.

War was about to begin.

Fiend ran his finger through the blood and licked it off his finger with a sick grin.

"Let the bodies hit the floor," Fiend whispered to himself.

NEXT CHAPTER: Fiend vs. Diamondback >>