Highlander Hellcat PG-13 Version

by KuroKoneko Kamen

  Chapter 9: Pixie Stix

  Garth headed over to that night’s fighting location on his Ducati, which turned out to be an abandoned, four-story office building. The first three levels had broken windows and no lights were shinning from within. The fourth floor, however, had a bunch of lights on and if Garth didn’t know better it sounded like there was a party being held on the top floor.

  Garth approached the front door, opened it, and stepped cautiously inside, his senses on high alert. He didn’t want to get tranqed again. He passed through the foyer and entered into the main room where he spotted four young men who looked like fellow street fighters. They were similarly dressed in T-shirts, leather jackets, jeans, and sneakers.

  The shifter stood there glaring at his potential opponents while they glared back at him until one of the four men pointed his finger at Garth. “Ah! It’s you!” He exclaimed, his pale green eyes sparkling with excitement.

  Garth turned his full attention to the young man who he recognized as being the same young man who’d been tossed into the shark tank with him during the last ‘Death Game’. The kid looked younger than Garth remembered. He had his blonde hair cut into a punky style with the sides razored, and the front was gelled forward almost like a pompadour. He was pretty tall at six-four and had a muscular build. The kid was wearing a ratty T-shirt, frayed jeans, and sneakers that had obviously seen better days. Garth approached the kid. “What are you doing here, lad? I thought you’d learned your lesson after what happened last time.”

  The young man shrugged lackadaisically. “I need the money…so here I am.”

  Garth raised an eyebrow at the kid. “How old are you anyways?”

  Danny puffed out his chest. “I’m seventeen.”

  Garth shook his head despairingly. “Seventeen? You really are just a brat.” He let out a heavy sigh. “What’s your name, lad?” He vaguely recalled the emcee from the former match calling out the kid’s name but Garth couldn’t remember what it had been.

  “I’m Danny Dangerfield.” Danny grinned boyishly as he jabbed a thumb into his chest.

  Ah, now I remember that cheesy name. “Garth Mackenzie.” Garth put out his hand. Danny looked down at it in surprise and shook Garth’s hand. “Just stick with me, lad, and you may get out of this thing alive.”

  Danny grinned at Garth. “I can’t argue with that. You’re tough.”

  “Ah, the last of our special guests have arrived. I will now explain to you gentlemen the rules of tonight’s Death Game.” A male voice echoed throughout the first floor.

  Garth looked around the empty room to see where the voice was coming from and noticed speakers attached to the walls.

  “But first, I would like you all to open the cardboard box that’s on the floor, and put on the red T-shirts you’ll find inside.” The arbiter directed the group of street fighters.

  Danny walked over to the box that the others were all eyeing with suspicion, and fearlessly opened it. It could have been a bomb and could have blown him to smithereens, but Danny didn’t care. He didn’t have anything to lose anyways. As luck would have it, it was filled with five red T-shirts. “Just T-shirts…no bombs, guys.” Danny grabbed two of the shirts, and made his way back over to Garth.

  The three other fighters made their way over to the box, and each grabbed a T-shirt. All five men put the red T-shirts on.

  “Excellent.” Came the arbiter’s voice again. He was obviously watching them from the cameras that had been set up on the first floor. “Today’s Death Game is a dogfight between two teams. The Red Team versus the Blue Team. Your objective is to get to the top floor of this building before the other team does. The winning team gets five thousand dollars.”

  “Five thousand dollars! Sweet!” Danny fist pumped the air.

  “Sounds too good to be true.” Garth said cryptically. “I wonder what the catch is.”

  “The Red Team is a group of street fighters. The Blue Team is a group of professional armed mercenaries.” The arbiter revealed.

  Garth nodded knowingly. “And there’s the catch.”

  “Armed?” Danny looked around the first floor wildly. “Crap! Where are they?”

  “The fight will be starting in five…four…three…” The arbiter began the ominous countdown.

  “We’re so screwed.” One of the street fighters groaned.

  “No, we’re not. Not yet.” Garth spoke up in a firm tone as he waved his hand through the air. “Look, guys, I have a bulletproof vest on, so…I want you all to use me as a shield as we make a mad dash for the stairs over there which lead to the second floor.”

  “Bulletproof vest…?” Danny gave Garth a scrutinizing look.

  “One! Fighters…begin!” The arbiter called out.

  “Now! Run!” Garth directed the group of street fighters.

  From out of the shadows of the first floor a group of five mercenaries emerged. They were dressed in blue, black and gray camouflage, and all of them were holding assault rifles. They aimed their rifles at Garth and the others, and opened fire.

  Garth and the street fighters took off running for the stairs, and Garth stood between them and the barrage of bullets that was coming their way. Garth made sure to keep Danny right in front of him. He grunted as he felt the impact of the bullets as they imbedded themselves into the muscles of his back. It hurt but Garth didn’t flinch. He could take the pain. Especially, if one of these guys knew where the Red Priest was.

  “Crap! Those are AK-47s! Isn’t that a big overkill for us! When those rifles are set to semi-automatic they fire four rounds per minute and when they’re set at full auto they fire a hundred rounds per minute.” Danny said breathlessly as he ran.

  “Ah!” One of the street fighters cried out as he took a bullet to the leg and went down.

  Danny tried to go back for him, but Garth pushed the teen forward roughly. “We have no choice but to leave him. Come on!”

  “No way…” Danny reluctantly nodded, and by this time they’d reached the staircase. The other two street fighters had already gone up the steps and to the second floor. Danny flinched when he heard shots being fired behind him. The Blue Team had obviously decided to finish the street fighter off. Danny and Garth ran up the stairs, and entered what appeared to be an office level with lots of cubicles and electronics that had been left behind.

  “Spread out and look for anything that can be used as a weapon.” Garth directed the others.

  “Roger!” The other two street fighters agreed with nods.

  “Oh, and one more thing.” Garth reached out and grabbed the two street fighters by the front of their shirts and brought them in close. “Do you guys know where the Red Priest is?” He glared fiercely at them.

  The two street fighters both shared a confused look before they turned to look at Garth, and shake their heads. “Nope, sorry.” “I’ve never heard of him.”

  Garth let out a defeated sigh and let go of their shirts. “Get going.”

  “Roger.” The street fighters fanned out.

  “You really expect us to find weapons here?” Danny looked around the office level skeptically. “But there’s just a bunch of random office supplies.” He noticed the cameras on the walls that were filming all of this for the benefit of the spectators and betters on the top floor.

  A feral grin formed on Garth’s face. “Anything you can pick up and throw can be used as a weapon. Also, pretty much anything can be used as a weapon if you throw enough killing intent behind it, lad.” Garth picked up a sharp pencil and showed it to Danny. In the blink of an eye Garth had the pencil pressed against the side of Danny’s throat. “This would be a kill shot.”

  Danny gulped, and tried not to piss in his pants. I didn’t even see him move!

  Garth’s keen ears picked up on the sound of the mercenaries making their way up the stairs to the second floor. “They’re coming. Come on, lad. Stay behind me.”

  The shifter swiftly made his way behind
one of the cubicles, and dragged the kid along with him. They both crouched down and listened as the mercenaries entered the office level.

  “Come out, come out, wherever you are, cowards.” A mercenary called out in a singsong voice.

  “Cowards? They’re the ones with the AK-47s!” Danny hissed to Garth in a low voice. “I’d like to see how brave they are without those rifles!”

  “Well, if you insist.” Garth spoke loudly to the mercenary before he fearlessly stood up, grabbed a computer monitor as if it weighed nothing and tossed it at the mercenary one-handed.

  “Crap!” The mercenary was forced to dodge the attack, drop to the floor, and roll across the floor.

  Garth frowned. “I missed. Oh well, second time’s the charm, right?”

  “Uh, I think it’s third time’s the charm.” Danny piped up.

  Garth looked around, picked up the swivel office chair next, and straightened. He waited for the mercenary to straighten too before launching the chair at him. The mercenary was forced to dive out of the way with a curse. “What are you guys waiting for? Shoot him!” The mercenary spat angrily at his teammates.

  “Roger.” The four other mercenaries opened fire at Garth and Danny.

  Garth and Danny ducked down behind the desk that was inside the cubicle, and watched as the wall surrounding them began to become full of holes. Garth stood up, grabbed the enormous office desk, hefted it over his head with his two hands, and threw it at the mercenaries, who were forced to scatter and dive out of the way screaming.

  “Whoa.” Danny breathed as he looked at Garth in awe. The man was incredibly strong. Watching Garth fight the mercenaries using office furniture was like watching a messed up version of someone playing Whac-A-Mole.

  The mercenaries dispersed throughout the office, and began to close in on Garth and Danny from all sides. However-

  “Ah!” A mercenary cried out as one of the street fighters snuck up behind him and jabbed a box cutter into the man’s throat. Blood gurgled out of his mouth as he sunk to his knees.

  “You see, kill shot.” Garth said to Danny in a grim tone.

  Danny shuddered. Sure, he’d gotten into a lot of fights but he’d never actually killed anyone before.

  The street fighter quickly grabbed the assault rifle, and looked around for one of the other mercenaries. As soon as he spotted one, he pointed the rifle in the man’s direction. However, the mercenary saw the street fighter at the same time and pointed his rifle at the fighter. They both opened fire and ended up shooting each other full of holes.

  “That fool.” Garth shook his head. “He just threw his life away. And I didn’t get to ask that mercenary if he knew where the Red Priest was. Crap.”

  Another street fighter stealthily approached a mercenary, and kicked the rifle out of his hands with a side kick. The mercenary spun, and engaged the street fighter in hand-to-hand combat. Both fighters apparently knew martial arts and it was an impressive display.

  “Give me some cover!” The mercenary called out to his team.

  “Roger!” Two mercenaries revealed themselves as they straightened from their crouches, and simultaneously aimed their rifles at the street fighter.

  “I don’t think so.” Garth grabbed another office chair and launched it the mercenaries’ way. “Where is the Red Priest?” He demanded loudly.

  The mercenaries dodged the chair and targeted the cubicle that Garth and Danny were hiding behind instead. The barrage of bullets began to eat through the wall until they began to pass through it.

  “Ow!” A bullet grazed Danny’s upper arm. “That smarts.”

  “Get out of here, lad. Go!” Garth handed Danny the pencil and pointed to a cubicle a couple of cubicles down for Danny to hide inside.

  “You don’t have to tell me twice.” Danny began to crawl across the floor military-style, moving between the cubicles while avoiding the gunfire that was passing over his head. He made it into the cubicle that Garth had pointed out and let out a sigh of relief. “I’m not cut out for this crap. And to think, I used to think I was a badass.”

  The street fighter sent a hard roundhouse kick into the side of the mercenary’s head, and ended up snapping the man’s neck.

  This street fighter made his way over to Garth, who was still throwing random objects at the two mercenaries that were trying to take him out. “Hey.” The street fighter said to Garth. “Cover me.”

  “What? Wait, crap!” Garth swore as the street fighter ran out into the open, running towards the mercenaries. The shifter grabbed a desk and launched it at the mercenaries who were forced to dive out of the way.

  One of the mercenaries hand signaled for his teammate to head right, and take out Danny. He raked his thumb across his neck in a kill gesture. The mercenary nodded with a wicked smile on his face, and army crawled across the floor.

  The other mercenary made a grab for his rifle that had fallen out of his hand. The street fighter brought his booted foot down hard on the mercenary’s hand before his fingers could wrap around the rifle.

  “Son of a gun!” The mercenary swore as the bones in his hand were broken.

  “Get up and fight.” The street fighter challenged, rubbing his index finger under his nose in a cocky gesture and getting into a fighting stance.

  The mercenary glared up at the street fighter, and then smiled cruelly. “Gladly.” With his left hand he reached into his jacket and pulled out a handgun that he aimed at the fighter.

  The fighter’s eyes widened slightly and a resigned look fell over his face. “Well, I’m screwed.”

  “NO!” Garth shouted.

  The mercenary fired and shot the street fighter right between the eyes. The street fighter crumpled to the ground. Dead.

  Garth and Danny were the only members of the Red Team left.

  “You cowardly scumbag!” Garth roared angrily as he charged the mercenary. “Tell me where the Red Priest is and I might let you live!”

  Meanwhile, the other mercenary was hunting Danny. Danny held his breath as he watched the mercenary walking past his hiding place with his rifle raised. The man was completely out in the open. He was obviously underestimating Danny.

  “It’s now or never, Danny. This is life and death.” Danny took a deep breath and attacked, lunging the pencil into the back of the mercenary’s leg, right behind the knee, and hitting an artery.

  The mercenary cried out and went down to his knees immediately. The mercenary wasn’t out for the count just yet though, and twisted his torso, aiming his rifle right at Danny.

  But Danny quickly lunged at the rifle, and they began to struggle for control over it. The mercenary pulled the trigger, and the bullets hit the overhead florescent lights, showering them with broken glass dangerously.

  With his left hand Danny kept the gun pointed towards the ceiling and with his right hand he picked up a piece of broken glass. He swung his hand and imbedded the piece of glass into the side of the mercenary’s throat. The rifle fell to the floor from the mercenary’s limp fingers.

  “Kill shot.” Danny said grimly as he watched the man die in front of him. “Garth taught me that today.” I should feel happy that I’m alive. But for some reason…I’m not.

  Meanwhile, the mercenary opened fire upon Garth, and several bullets pierced Garth’s muscular torso. Bloody hell. By the time this dogfight was over his body would be Swiss cheese! But Garth didn’t stop, and just kept on going.

  The mercenary’s rifle made a clicking sound since it was finally out of bullets. “No way…what is this guy made of? Steel?” He reached for a new clip.

  Garth charged the mercenary and pulled the rifle out of his hands before he could reload it. The shifter then crumpled the rifle into a ball as if he were crumpling a piece of paper. “Now…tell me, where is the Red Priest?”

  “Who? What the hell are you talking about? You…you’re a monster!” The mercenary shouted angrily at Garth, spit flying out of his mouth.

 
“No, I’m a demon.” Garth grinned, revealing his sharp canines, and headbutt the mercenary hard, knocking him out cold. The shifter let out a defeated sigh. Another useless fighter that didn’t know crap. “Crap…I hope the kid’s okay. I heard shots fired coming from his direction. Hey lad, you still alive?” Garth called out loudly.

  Danny stood up and gave Garth a thumbs-up. “Hell yeah. Though I don’t know how I did it I…I killed him.” The smile on the teen’s face faltered.

  Garth noticed the slight tremor in Danny’s voice. “Good. You did good, lad. He was trying to kill you.”

  “Yeah…” Danny trailed off softly.

  “Well, it looks like it’s just the two of us. Let’s go, lad.” Garth headed for the stairs that led to the third floor.

  “Hey, wait up!” Danny ran after Garth.

  Garth and Danny climbed the stairs, and entered the third floor. “Whoo.” Danny whistled through his teeth when he saw a long table covered in weapons. “That’s a lot of guns.”

  Garth frowned at the sight. “I don’t like this.”

  “Congratulations to the Red Team. You are the winners! But…there can only be one champion. Only one of you can have the prize money. The steel door you see at the back of the room will only open and allow you access to the top floor once one of you is dead. Fighters…begin!”

  “These creeps think this is The Hunger Games or something. Too bad we don’t have any berries around, huh, Garth?” Danny joked while trying to make light of the situation even though he’d started to tremble. He was so dead. He knew he was no match for Garth.

  Garth didn’t respond but was instead glaring at the cameras that were inside of the room.

  The cameras’ lenses focused on Garth and Danny. Danny looked at Garth. He didn’t even try to go for a gun. “Wow. I have really bad luck, huh?” He let out a defeated sigh. “There’s no way I can beat you, Garth. It’s…okay. Go ahead and kill me. I never would have made it this far without you. You saved my life, so…it belongs to you anyways.” Danny raised his chin as he tried to be brave.

  Garth approached Danny with purposeful steps, and reached his hand out towards him. Danny shut his eyes tight and waited for the killing blow.

  Abruptly, Garth ruffled Danny’s hair in an affectionate manner.

  Danny’s eyes snapped open and widened in surprise. “Eh?”

  Garth chuckled at the teen’s bewildered expression. “I’m not going to kill you, lad. I just came here to ask these fighters if they knew where I can find the Red Priest, but…none of them knew what the hell I was talking about.” Garth sighed heavily. “I don’t really want these creeps’ money either, so I’ll give it to you instead. You look like you could use it.”

  “You’re going to give me the prize money?” A bubble of hope had formed within Danny’s chest but he quickly squashed it. Life was never that easy. “They’ll never let us have it.”

  “We’ll see about that.” Garth cracked his knuckles ominously. “What do you say we crash their fancy party? Maybe the Arbiter knows where the Red Priest is.”

  Danny frowned thoughtfully as he stared at the steel door. “But there’s no way to get past that metal door.” He jerked his thumb in the door’s direction.

  Garth chuckled. “Oh yes there is.” He approached the metal door, gripped it with his bare hands, and began to pull. “This just needs a little elbow grease.”

  Danny’s eyes bulged at what Garth was doing. “You can’t be serious, bro?”

  “Argh!” Garth roared as his eyes flashed red, and he ripped the steel door right off its hinges before tossing it aside.

  “Whoa.” Danny clapped his hands together. He was thoroughly impressed.

  Garth glanced over his shoulder. “Come on, let’s go, lad.” He started for the stairs that led to the top floor.

  Danny grinned and ran after Garth. He heard the arbiter’s voice calling out behind him: “Hey, wait! You can’t do that! Crap!” A smile formed on the teen’s face.

  Garth and Danny ran up the stairs, and entered the top floor. This room had been renovated and now served as an entertainment room. The entire level had been decorated extravagantly for the party, and there was even a massive grand piano with a piano player playing a classic tune off to the right side. Several round dinning tables with immaculate white tablecloths had been set up around the floor, and there were classy arrangements of white flowers sitting on the very center of the tables.

  “Whoo.” Danny let out a whistle as he took in the luxurious décor. He’d never seen so much white before. He couldn’t help but think about his ratty, cockroach-infested apartment. His attention was drawn to the large monitors that were on the walls and which showed footage of the different levels of the building. He saw the first floor where there was only one body on the floor, and the second floor, which was now a war zone. The bodies of the fallen mercenaries and the members of the Red Team were still littering the floor.

  It really hit Danny right then how the fighters who’d participated in tonight’s challenge were really nothing more than tools for these rich people’s entertainment. Their lives meant nothing to these people. The spectators and betters were wearing white masks and expensive clothing. Clothing that Danny knew he could never afford. The betters dined and chatted at the tables while drinking expensive champagne and eating gourmet cuisine.

  Danny couldn’t understand how these people could possibly still have an appetite after watching people kill each other. Not to mention the footage right above their heads showing the dead bodies littering the floor on the second floor. Pools of blood were beginning to surround the bodies making it all the more real.

  People had died tonight. Eight people were dead.

  Danny eavesdropped on their discussions and heard them talking about the bets they’d placed on the Red Team or the Blue Team. They also talked about which fighters they thought had fought the best and which had fought the worst. It was the same atmosphere one might find at a classy horse race like the Kentucky Derby, but what was being bet on was far direr. They were betting on the outcome of people’s lives.

  Garth took note of the fact that the monitors were showing footage from all the floors except for the top floor, and smiled wickedly to himself.

  Garth and Danny looked around at the odd setting. “I hate rich people…well, except for my friends.” Garth growled.

  “Me too.” Danny readily agreed. Even though he didn’t know who Garth’s friends were. But he hated rich people in general.

  The gathered spectators and betters spotted Garth and Danny, and began to applaud and cheer. “Look over there! It’s the victors!” “Whoo!”

  Danny blushed, unused to this kind of attention, and scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

  “Where’s the Arbiter? Show yourself!” Garth roared loudly.

  “Calm yourself, gentlemen. I’m right here.” A man who was wearing a slick designer suit and a white mask on his face stood up from one of the tables. He picked up a briefcase and carried it over to Garth and Danny. He handed Garth the briefcase. “And here is the prize money. You can count it, if you wish.”

  “I think I will.” Garth cleared the table with a sweep of his hand, knocking plates of food and glasses onto the floor with a clatter. The plates and glasses shattered as they hit the floor. Danny bemoaned the waste of good food. His stomach rumbled in protest and he wondered if anyone would mind if he took those leftovers with him. Garth set the briefcase on the table and opened it. He checked the money - it looked real enough. Good. He closed the briefcase and shoved it into Danny’s arms. “Here, lad.”

  Danny took the briefcase with a startled look on his face. “Really…? I can really have this?”

  Garth nodded. “Aye.”

  “I suppose…our business here is concluded.” The arbiter said in a tremulous voice.

  A feral smiled curled Garth’s lips and he turned his attention back to the arbiter. “Not quite. Where is the Red P
riest?”

  The arbiter frowned beneath his white mask, his brow furrowed, and he wrung his hands together nervously. “I’m afraid I’ve never heard of him. I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more assistance.”

  “Bloody hell.” Garth swore angrily. “Another dead end!” He hit the table with his fist and it cracked in half. The betters who’d been seated at the table cried out, and leapt out of the way. Garth was so pissed. His hands started to become engulfed in flames.

  “Garth, your hands…!” Danny exclaimed in a panicky voice.

  Garth looked down at his hands. Crap. At this rate he might shift into his Hellcat form. He needed to get these people out of there. “Get out.” Garth growled lowly, menacingly.

  “Excuse me, Sir?” The arbiter questioned tentatively.

  “You heard me. I said, GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE. ALL OF YOU. THE