Saved and SAINTified (72 page)

“I hope you did the same
.”

Seconds ticked by as they sized each other up.

“So what are the ground rules, Nizsm?” Saint stood and removed his thin jacket. He placed it behind the chair and rolled his neck before returning to his seat. “We are going to do this and I want to know what’s up, but let me tell you.” Saint shook his finger at Nizsm. “You know you have to play fair but I’ve accepted that you won’t, so whatever you do, I will hold it against you.”

“You played dirty by
tricking me. Your daughter was born. You have no right to demand fairness.”

“There are rules for this. You
are already fighting another Angel Child, which is a no-no within itself unless it is in self-defense, which this clearly is not.”

“It
is
self-defense. You threaten, or shall I say, your daughter threatens everything I built. As far as the rules, I will not use any weapons. We will use our abilities only.”

Saint
nodded in agreement.
The mothafucka is lyin’, but okay...

“And this is one on one, right? No one is going to bumrush me in case I get the upperhand?”
Saint’s eyebrow rose as he looked up at the cameras in the corners of the room.

“Just one on on
e,” Nizsm sneered. “And this will get bloody ...
very
bloody. That pretty-boy face of yours will be destroyed and you will no doubt need a closed casket.” 

A face can heal; your heart will be crushed...

“So why are we still sitting here, then?” Saint tilted his head and regarded the enemy.

He knew the reason why. Nizsm was blocking hard, but the energy was potent. He was waiting on something ... stalling for time.

Before Saint could utter another word, Nizsm had his thick hand around Saint’s throat, squeezing, pressing. They stared into each other’s eyes. The intensity mounted as they searched each other desperately. Nizsm grinned from ear to ear. Saint couldn’t see, but felt Nizsm thrust his hand harshly over his chest. Saint gasped, feeling his eyes turn white through and through. The symptoms weren’t unlike those of a heart attack, like his damn arteries were sure to explode.

No! No, this can’t happen!

Air left his lungs and the pain in his chest spread like spilled wine, sending him in panic mode. He reared back in his seat, trying to gain space between him and his attacker. He hadn’t even seen the man get up, except for a silver blur, and he was upon him. Saint reached upward and clawed at the man’s wrist, struggling in the strong, deathly grip. Once the shock of the event wore off, and he’d accepted that Nizsm was doing exactly what his father had warned, he burst from his seat, causing a loud thud as the chair fell back.

But Nizsm held on for dear life. His hand was off of Saint’s heart, but the other kept tight around his neck as
he fought to maintain consciousness. It was a slippery slope as the monster’s fingers dug deeper into his flesh. The man was strong,
damn
strong. A strength that Saint had never seen or felt before—he didn’t have long to get out of the situation.  His knees weakened and his eyes watered profusely.

With everything he had, he wrapped his hands around
Nizsm’s death lock and pried it away, finger by finger. Much like trying to remove a deadbolt with a feather, it was damn near impossible. Saint strained but completed the task. He gasped for air, and felt the blood once again return to his cheeks. Then he growled when his nostrils flared and his irises burned with shades of deep violet, then flame red. Both men underwent this change and the walls shook as the battling duo began to tussle around the room, rumbling—each step causing the  walls and ground  to fracture and crumble as if furniture, instead of flesh, was being pounded. Like two giants in brutal combat, which in many ways they were. From the one small window, Saint caught the flashing glimpse of people running to and fro in the distance and the skies turning angry, bloody red.

So this is what happens when two
Angel Children fight ... two Angel Children like him and Nizsm...

They
rocked the land, tumbling, sparring with one another. The ceiling began to crack as they brutally slammed each other around, tormenting the foundation of the centuries old ruins. A series of dim lights swung wildly while they gained momentum and continued to slash and beat each other until swollen lips and pilfered breaths became customary. There was one slight problem: despite the mutual blocking; they instinctively seemed to know what the other was going to do several seconds beforehand. It was like fighting with one’s shadow with no end in sight.

“Goddamn you!”
Nizsm screamed as he touched the gash above his eye, now oozing with trickles of his spent blood. Saint had come down on his head brutally, slicing the skin open like a razor. He took several steps back from Saint, his hatred growing stronger, as if that were possible. Nizsm took violent breaths while Saint swallowed, feeling the doom and double crossing before the cold hand landed on his shoulder.

Just then, Nizsm
’s third son and third wife materialized, swords in hand and retribution on their distorted minds.

Awww
, shit!

Saint
ducked; the first sword sliced the air with a loud swooshing sound. He shot Nizsm a glower as he watched the pompous beast smirk and cross his arms over his chest like some King watching his entertainment for the evening.

Sending your family in for slaughter! You know they can’t beat me!
This is a distraction tactic!

Saint thrust his leg out, catching Nizsm’s tall and robust son along the ankle and tripping him forward. Just then, another sword came flying down with the young giant. Saint grabbed both weapons, his palm bleeding as he caught one near the blade and used the other like a hatchet. Saint screamed out, as well as the woman who now stood defenseless. In a millisecond, the young man’s head rolled across the room, the cut so clean it hadn’t even begun to bleed.

Saint
caught the wife out of his peripheral vision, moving around him. She screamed again, getting close enough to punch him brutally in the mouth. Her little fist was powerful and she had been trained to fight. He knew this as soon as her knuckles of steel landed across his oral gate. Saliva and blood flew out the side of his mouth as he turned and witnessed her brandishing a gun. She moved fast, like a lightning strike. But before she could aim it, Saint had her wrist in his grasp. He bore down, trying with all of his might to get her to shake the thing loose. He looked up to see Nizsm fast approaching.

“I will break your fucking arm! Drop that shit or I will kill you, too!”

It slipped out of her grip as she stumbled back in shock, wincing in pain. She had no idea who she was dealing with, but he knew she was driven by seeing her son decapitated. As far as Saint was concerned, if she didn’t cool it, she could ‘have next’.

Nizsm hollered obscenities; h
is wife and children were on the line. Like Nizsm, he, too, no longer gave a shit about the causalities of their war, as long as they were not
his
loved ones.

“You fucking liar!
You sent others in. I didn’t believe you and I was ready.” Saint laughed as he grabbed the woman harshly by her thick braids, and escorted her to the far end of the room while Nizsm advanced. “Fucking pathetic! She has bigger balls than you.” He reached the door and double locked it with one hand, ensuring that Nizsm could no longer allow others to enter the den of iniquity.

“I knew you were lying, you fucking weakling. Can’t even fight me like a man
, one on one ... had to have your kid and broad fight for you!” And with that, Saint slammed her head into the wall, knocking her unconscious and leaving her with a nasty concussion she’d be sure to feel when she came to. “I’d expect nothing less from you!” Saint gritted his teeth and made for Nizsm, who was now backing away.

Saint
sucked the blood from his bottom lip and ripped his sweaty shirt off in mid-stride, leaving himself barechested. “If you send one more mothafucka in here,” he pointed to Nizsm, causing him to stop in his tracks, “there will be a bunch of dismembered bodies all over this goddamn room. It’ll look like a damn meat locker. I’ve locked the door, but there is no telling what traps you have in here.”

He watched
Nizsm fist and unfist his hands, and his jaw twitch.

“I can
... do this all night, with you ... if you want. You chose this ... now it’s yours!”

Saint
charged the man full speed ahead, tackling him to the ground and beating him with fast flying fists that moved so quickly, it wasn’t clear when the last blow started and where the first one began. His victim’s face seemed to cave in right before his now jet black eyes. Blood splattered everywhere, making a gruesome bloody tie-dye of the surrounding area. Saint had concentrated with all of his might on the love he had for Xenia and his children. It had literally blinded Nizsm, allowing him to become distracted, unable to read Saint’s next act of violence until it was too late. The light inside Saint’s heart and soul shined, making the evil crawl away into the shadows.

“You wanted me here?! You
got
me!”

Saint
continued to blast the man’s skull to kingdom come. Nizsm tried in vain to alert some of his peons for assistance; he mustered a scream, until his wide open mouth met with Saint’s bloodied palm. The door shook violently with fists pounding on it, people trying to gain admittance into the room of doom. Saint put his finger up to his mouth.

“Shhhh.”
He grinned, the taste of coppery blood gleaming over his teeth, tasting the blood from the wife’s stroke. “Don’t say one ... damn ... word...”

Nizsm
tried fruitlessly to shrug Saint off of him, but Saint’s knee was wedged near his groin, and all of his weight upon him. Saint’s growing rage matched Nizsm’s hatred, but it was founded on love for his family—an emotion Nizsm knew nothing about.

Suddenly,
Nizsm began to laugh and turn his head from side to side. His eyes were practically swollen shut, his ribs cracked and his nose broken. He looked wearily up at Saint.

“You
... you really
are
stupid after all.” He laughed harder, blood oozing out of his mouth, trickling down his chin and pooling under his neck. “While ... you are here, trying to kill me, Dr. Aknaten, my strongest and most powerful children, my two eldest sons, are killing your wife ... and children. So ... in the end, it will still be all worth it.”

But Saint
countered his laugh with an even harsher one as a cool breeze burst through the room and they became shrouded in the chilly darkness. Nizsm got quiet then, his eyes showing fear for the very first time in his life.

“Oh no,
Nizsm. You see, your sons have a special surprise waiting for them. I know something they don’t know, and it will play out soon enough—when the time is right. I receive no karmic debt by honoring the transition invitation and now, killing you in self-defense. You made the first move—the first act of violence. The tables have turned.”

Nizsm
continued to stare up at him. Saint guessed him to be hysterical on the inside, but knew he wouldn’t dare let him see it. Oh no, Nizsm’s pride was too large for that. Even pleading for forgiveness was not an option. His partially opened eyes faded to a muted, muddy green.

“Every
Angel Child needs their soulmate, Nizsm. It is how we are wired. We feel like we are dying without it,” Saint emphasized. “It’s a weakness, but by divine design, so that we remain grounded ... and that is why you never kept your feet to the floor.”

“I
... just have ... one question, Saint.” Nizsm smiled weakly; more blood oozed from between his lips.

“Yeah
. What is it?”

“How
... did you make her? How did someone ... like you ... get the Princess of Life?”

“I figured out the secret,
Nizsm, after the fact. You can only make a Princess of Life with a soulmate. Not one of your wives, not even your
favorite
, the one lying there in the corner now with her wig split, is her. You
never
found her. How lonely your life must’ve been.” Saint made up a sarcastic pitiful expression, then burst into laughter, his rage driving him over the edge. “But that’s okay. We have more in common than you may realize.”

He smacked
Nizsm hard across the face. “This is important. Listen up, mothafucka!” Saint’s New York accent fell on the loud words like an east coast snow storm. He’d become enraged as he reflected over the very fact that he was there somewhat against his will.

“I have weaknesses
... and you have weaknesses. My weakness, Nizsm,
is
my soul mate, which you don’t have, as stated. So,” he shrugged, “I can’t use that against you, now can I? We’ve covered that. The next one is sex. I’m addicted to sex and so are you. Only thing is now, I am perfectly content with one woman because she is
the one
—so my problem is solved on that end; I got to knock out two birds with one stone. You kept marrying more and more women, not because of your religion or because you loved them, but one was never enough. You tried to get your fill to nourish that void. That doesn’t matter though; this isn’t about sex or soul mates. It’s about the third weakness, our kryptonite, if you will.”