THE LION KING: MY NAME
The Lion King: My Name (For now, my upcoming Balto fanfiction is on the backburner. I'll wait for people to stop pestering me to write Keitaro: Yakuza stories before I start it. This story has, thus far, been senseless violence. Well... that's about to change. Ever wondered about Kifo, the person, not Kifo, the warrior?) All that remained of his enemy now were empty shells. Like the refuse of some great feast, they lay, a hollow reminder of the huge, powerful animal that had once lived in them. Kifo remained in the cave, for a moment, sitting, nibbling the last bits of meat from one of the chitinous plates that had so completely failed to protect its owner. He then tossed it into the lake... and then, with a dark, terrifying glare, reached out with his mind... and managed to shove the rest back into the watery depths from where they'd come. “I am strong.” The demon's face flickered into a smile before his eyes widened. His Master was calling, he was sure of it. And so he dashed out of the Cave of the Freaks, as it was known in the Jungle, and got to his knees outside, lowering his head to the ground in submission of the being that was going to make his revenge possible. “There's no need for all that,” said a raspy, dry voice, and the warrior looked up to see the soot-emitting vulture flap down, landing on a nearby branch. Regardless, Kifo remained on one knee, though he raised his head to speak. “Do I have a real mission yet?” he asked, pawing at his rifle longingly. The vulture grinned his horrible, beaky grin. “Indeed,” the avian said, clouds of ash and smoke flowing from his throat into the atmosphere... even from where he kneeled, Kifo could smell a burnt, acrid smell. “But first... tell me, warrior. Have you felt yourself become stronger since you left the Forbidden Island? We, the Followers of our Master have heard tales... tales that lead us to the conclusion that our Warrior has been busy. Tell me... have you gained any powers in your endless quest to kill?” Kifo smirked darkly, and the vulture, an evil being himself, felt... cold. “Yeah... Master showed me how to reduce things to ash by touching them. Well... it's slower, and weaker. But I can kind of do it... without touching things. Let me show you...” Kifo's eyes closed as he reached out with his paw, fingers outstretched. The vulture could see deep, black hate twist across his face, and could feel the anger, rage, and... emptiness... in the warrior grow, and grow, before it physically manifested itself into wisps of smoke that danced through the air, collecting on a nearby tree... The huge plant didn't collapse, or vanish into ash. But it did look unhealthy... sort of like it had ben scorched from the inside out. The vulture flapped up, managing to hover in place—he'd seen the small family of dirty brown and gray sparrows take refuge in one of the knots of the tree, hiding from the demon. But as he looked into that burned, smoke-ridden hole... all he saw was skeletons. Skeletons, and mangy, beaten feathers... and the stench of young, displaced souls, looking for their home in the next world. The vulture glided down, and flapped to a halt on another branch... before it snapped off, and he landed on the ground. “Impressive...” he said arrogantly, to hide the awe, and, yes, fear that he felt for the warrior's accomplishment. “Master couldn't possibly have foreseen this. It is fortunate that the Warrior is so loyal to Master... because if he were to strike out on his own, I don't know if Master would be able to stop him...” “So—your mission,” the avian suddenly said brusquely, so that Kifo wouldn't suspect anything, “unfortunately... our Master isn't the only one in this world with big plans. And he's also not the only one willing to do what's necessary to get things done.” Kifo nodded, understanding... yet failing to notice that if that was the case, there was, effectually, no difference between his Master, and this as-yet unknown foe. “You mission will take you to a land far, far away...” “We don't know who's leading them.” Kifo's taloned feet clomped across the environment, quickly, as he jogged to the East. “Go over the Eastern Volcanoes... through the Unexplored Regions... past the Falme Kindakindakai... and then, to the northeast you will find a desert. And then, a forest... and in that forest, you shall find your enemies.” “They are monkeys... but different. We have little information about them at this time. So keep your guard up, Warrior... these foes will not be as susceptible to evil as your previous enemies were.” “Do not underestimate enemies of our Master...” By now, he was at the peak of the Eastern Volcano range. He looked around... the ground was solid. Barely. It would hold him, if he moved quickly. “Quick movement's the only kind I can afford,” he thought to himself, dashing over the semi-liquid surface, feeling it flex with every step he took, “after all... Master has entrusted me with a mission...” Just as Kifo hopped off of the hot rock, a crack was heard behind him... and he grinned, running and sliding down the side of the Volcanos, as lava chased after him... He skidded to a halt later. In front of him lay the Unexplored Regions... and even the warrior felt a moment of concern as he took a step into a meadow of grass... with blades taller than he was. The grass made the demon feel small, yes. But what made him feel even smaller was the gasping, hissing, clicking sound that he seemed to be approaching. Or rather, what was making it. The warrior froze. As he pawed for his rifle, not daring to take his eyes off the creature. It was feeding on... something, something that the warrior didn't even care to identify. Kifo raised his .338, but didn't dare fire. “I don't think this'll even hurt it.” The warrior slowly started to back away... but then, with a clicking, the huge, ten-foot tall being raised its head. Long, feeler-like antennae twitched towards him, lashing through the air, as if trying to figure out just what it was looking at. Kifo felt himself almost seize up, but then forced himself to calm. In this world, he would be the one causing fear, not feeling its horrible effects. And so he raised his paw, and did the same thing he'd done in his most recent battle. But this time, his goal wasn't to expose his foe... but rather to deter it. He concentrated hard, allowing those familiar, black wisps of smoke to emanate as if straight from his blackened soul into the air. But the demon watched in horror, as the cockroach continued to stare at him, completely unaffected. “Not good...” he muttered, then lowered his rifle. Kifo's right paw came up with his sword, and his left paw came up with a grenade. Though the .338 would blast right through the cockroach from one end to the other, its bullet was just too small to do any real damage to one of the hardiest creatures on Earth. His only real hope of killing it was to cut a hole in it, then shove a live grenade down into it, and blow it up. Or, he could retreat. It wasn't the demon's nature to run from an opportunity to harm, to kill. And yet, his job was to kill.. and he couldn't do his job if he was dead. So the warrior backed away, slowly, cautiously, praying to his Master that the accursed insect wouldn't follow. At first, it didn't. But then, it's antennae twitched towards the demon... and it took a single step towards him. Kifo froze, and weighed his options. He had two basic choices: retreat, or use the hack-and-explode technique that he'd thought up. Neither of which was as foolproof as he wanted for his manner of fighting to be. Unacceptable. There had to be something else... The demon then tried to do something else. Thus far, he'd used only his deep feelings of hate and cold, harsh, darkness to fight his enemies. But he'd learned that he did have another emotion. Anger. And anger could conceivably manifest itself in many ways. So it was anger, not vague hate that would defeat this enemy... As the cockroach approached, Kifo didn't close his eyes and concentrate. His lips blossomed apart into a terrible, gruesome snarl; teeth gnashing against each another in rage. Then he sliced his sword through the air— ...and grinned. The cockroach stopped dead in its tracks, then scurried off. And as the demon sniffed the air with his hellish, unnatural nose, he noted that it seemed to be burning... from the inside out. “I knew that I wasn't that weak,” the warrior thought, almost proudly, stowing his grenade, but keeping his sword and handbow in his paws—he figured that if he could influence the effects his sword had on the world, he could do the same to a fired bolt. “But still... that was just one cockroach. And the Unexplored Regions is a big place,” he thought, starting to jog again, albeit cautiously through the strange, grassy jungle, “there are gonna be things here tougher than that. Much, much tougher.” He suddenly grew angry, and slashed at the six foot tall grass that impeded his view and his progress through the plain that he traveled through. For a hundred feet in front of him, the blades fell, only to be squashed into the dirt by his feet as he moved on. “Master's given me a mission. I can't afford to get bogged dow—” Kifo suddenly roared, and fired a bolt into the gurgling, muddy pit that he'd somehow missed and fallen into. He heard a deep rumble of pain, and cursed, struggling to get out of it it. But something seemed to hold him back, and his eyes narrowed. “I wasn't stupid. There really was grass here. It's a trap. And whatever's pulling me back... fuck, it feels sticky,” he growled, managing to get a leg free. Kifo then froze, and managed to call on some hate to rot away the gooey, strong, web-like material that covered his foot. “As if big-ass cockroaches weren't enough. Now I gotta face big-ass spiders.” The demon roared again, and his handbow dislodged itself form his grip, landing several yards away. He barely managed to keep his sword and grab onto dry land as he was dragged deeper and deeper, down into the muddy hole. He cursed—his nostrils scented his enemy. It was, as he'd assumed, enormous. At least ten feet from tip to tip. And yet, this arachnid was underground, in the mud. “It's got to be breathing some how. Maybe another trap-door?” Kifo's emotions, his guns, his grenades, and his blades weren't his only weapons. His dark, twisted, yet deeply, horrifyingly intelligent mind, that allowed him to think in even such a dire situation was his true trump card. And he smirked. Indeed, ten yards away, he saw the ground shift. The spider was smart—it wasn't going to leave a straight shot down into its mouth, or its nose, or whatever sick breathing organ it used. However, the demon was smarter. He needed a way to force the spider to choke on some mud, that way, it would have a need to take in a deep, long breath. And with that air, it would receive a grenade... So he forced himself to calm, close his eyes, even as the beast yanked him further into the muck, his arms tearing down the very ground he held on to. Then, the warrior's eyes opened, and he lashed out with his feet. A torrent of mud suddenly became more watery, and poured downwards. He felt the arachnid's grip loosen, and looked up, priming a grenade to see that patch of land shift again— The explosive fell into the hole, and Kifo sniffed hard. It's fuse had been lit—good. It was going off. The warrior braced himself, as the spider began to pull again, and was thrown five feet into the air as the grenade exploded. Mud, and thick, dirty hair, along with all manner of body parts sloshed onto the plain around him. The warrior swallowed, feeling some of the matter that had found its way into his maw slide down his throat. “...Shit...” he swore, stumbling to his feet, looking for his handbow, “talk about getting bogged down.” “That's two battles I almost lost... in a row,” he cursed, standing, placing his paws on his hips, overlooking the Unexplored Regions, “If I run into any more serious opposition... it's only gonna be a matter of time before I really am killed. And then, I can't have my revenge...” The warrior moved, slowly, and sat down at the base of a tree, careful not to mar it with his evil too much. “I gotta learn how to live in this fuckin' place in order to survive it. Because I can't do the bidding of my Master when I'm dead.” The warrior's eyes narrowed, and he ducked behind another tree. He'd changed over the past few days. Not physically—more like mentally. He no longer held the illusion of invincibility. He knew that he could be defeated, and the only thing that stopped him from being killed was himself. He was still confident, however, and never one to back down from a fight. In fact, he'd done the opposite of that for the past days. He'd sought out enemies, stalked them, learned their weaknesses, then engaged and defeated them. His foes had become stronger and stronger... and because he beat them, each and every time, so did he. And that wasn't all. Kifo was starting to remember... his life. It was never much. Just flashes of memories, or certain sounds, or smells, or tastes... but never feelings. No, he'd never had those until his Master gave them to him. But there were things that he could do for himself, now. Each day, he'd try out a different physical attack. He didn't use his rifle much, usually, it was his hatchet, knives, or sword. And each day, he'd try out a different emotion-based assault. And he was improving. The bird lumbered by. It was flightless, but that didn't make it any less deadly than its flying brothers. It's talons were at least a foot long, and its beak was powerful enough to sever limbs with ease. And it was cautious, and smart. Killing it without cheating and using his rifle or a grenade would be hard. But doable. “I fuckin' hope that the desert and the forest aren't as inhospitable as this hellhole,” Kifo thought, before launching himself at his prey. He managed to wrap himself around its neck, just below its head. That was good, it couldn't bite him. But those talons were still dangerous. The demon growled, and slid down, kneeling on the avian's feathered back, holding onto it with one paw. Birds that he'd known in his life had two legs, and three talons on each foot. With only two joints per leg, they weren't overly flexible. However, this one was different. It had four legs, still with three talons each... but each leg had so many joints that employing a locking or breaking technique like those he'd just to dispatch less flexible enemies was an impossibility. Each steely foot came up, slashing at the warrior. He managed to fend off each blow with his sword, praying that the bird wouldn't shake him loose or manage to reach around with its beak and bite him. It was exhausting, and difficult. Soon, Kifo had his GLOCK out, and was working on aiming it at the avian's skull with one paw as he struggled to keep his balance. The bird was now running, even as blow after blow feel towards the demon, and Kifo knew that he couldn't keep it up for long. Suddenly, three things happened at once. Firstly, the GLOCK went off. Its bullet glanced off the side of the bird's skull, causing it to squawk loudly, and nearly fall. Secondly, Kifo realized that he wasn't the only being that knew to save a secret weapon for the end. Spikes rose out of the bird's back. Long, sharp, deadly spikes that exuded right from its vertebrae. Thirdly, the demon lost his balance, and fell. Onto a spike. He roared, yet even in his pain, clutched the spike with one paw, his GLOCK falling out of his paw, and held it in place so that it wouldn't jostle around, injuring him further. His sword flashed, and its steel met the organic steel of the bird's talons a few more times, before the demon's eyes darkened, almost clouding over. He'd made use of his emotions. He could cause things to wither and rot away, or extend the power of some of his weapons. But he'd never tried to create the effect of a weapon... out of nothingness. But he had to try. And so, with a hiss of rage, the warrior gathered his anger, and discharged it, using his paws to funnel it, aiming right for the bird's head— A long tongue of flame shot out, burning the avian's skull, scorching all the feathers off of it instantly. It shrieked in agony, and ran faster, talons clawing at the warrior furiously yet not quite meeting his flesh. Then, Kifo growled, and clutched at the spike hard, before concentrating, allowing the darkness in him to flow into it. The bone snapped, cracking the bird's vertebrae. At least, the talon's stopped coming, though the demon's troubles were far from over. They thudded to the ground, and separated. Kifo managed to hold onto it's spike, and panted, managing to dislodge it from his chest. But the bird was still alive, and with malice in its eyes, it dug its beak into the ground, and began to drag itself towards him. He turned, then snarled. His arm flashed, throwing the spike like a javelin— It buried itself into the avian's head, finally stopping it in its tracks. As Kifo shuddered, bleeding dark, acrid blood that seemed to burn everything it touched, he thought only of his Master... “You could have prepared me for this better.” The Lion King: My Name The warrior looked at the armored shell of his enemy... it was now totally and completely empty. As he started to leave the cave, he paused, and turned... Kifo then sat down next to the hulking carcass, and began to tap on it. Soon, the dull thuds that echoed through the cave were rhythmic... Soon, groups of squid dragged themselves up from the lake, and began to listen to the harsh, yet flowing beat that the demon made. His head bobbed up and down to the beat, and soon, the warrior's voice came out as dark, angry rasps between his overlarge teeth. “Now, this is the story, all about how My death got flipped, turned upside down And I'd like to take a minute, just sit right there I'd like to tell you how I became the fighter of the voice in the air. In New York City, I was born and raised In my apartment, alone, that's how I spent my days Flippin' TV channels, forgetting about school And all shooting up big ol' Times Square like a fool When I fell down to Hell, burning up, right Landed in the Forbidden Island before it was night 'Bout to get swarmed over by a million ants But then this big bad voice, it made me dance With pain, man, because that's all I feel I ain't been injured yet so I dunno if I can heal Master said, angry-like, “Oh, no armor,” But I'm like, “Yo, that's cool... that shit is for farmers.” Left a few minutes later, fuck the ado Walked for days through the African meadow The Western Grasslands, that was my destination But soon... it'll all be my Master's nation. Caught me a gazelle, then I tortured her hard Tossed the bitch back with a grenade in her gizzard Bomb went off, made a big mushroom cloud I looked, man... and damn, I felt proud. Headed down, down, deep into the South Fuck, shit, damn—I gotta watch my mouth .338 Lapua, that don't work underwater But Hell if that's gonna stop me from doing a slaughter Venomous squids—what the fuck is that? Makes me want to kill them all with a gat But then, it makes sense Because death is my mission And a friend... that's the only thing I'm missin'.” One by one, the squids slid back into the watery depths that they called home. Kifo yawned, then got to his knees, murmuring a prayer before curling up next to the skeletons of Chukizo and Maisha. A thousand miles away, al-Mujahid asked for five reviews before making a few, final keystrokes... and signed off.
Chapter 3: Competitors I: Bogged Down
Chapter 2.5: Kifo Sings a Song
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