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Supreme Ultimate Competition: The Original-ic

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The invitation had found Mr. Strix unsolicited. He had not been unaware of the competition that was going on in Chicago, Miami, Dallas, Los Angeles, The Emerald Cities, and Freedom City. He had in fact been looking into it. The prizes were too good. Millions of dollars worth of merchandise, and the fame and fortune that a televised event like this would have. It reeked of something sinister. Not to mention that the money had been moved around almost exclusively in the shadows until a few weeks ago. He had been "looking" into it after all.


Maybe that had been enough to earn him an invitation. 


The invitation had been surprisingly plain, left somewhere he would notice on his patrols of Bedlam. It had been left tied to an arrow in a spot where Strix usually patrolled. 


A simple envelope with the word Strix which contained a simple card. A square of Manila color it had a yellow and green taegeuk symbol on it with the trigrams for fire on the top, water on the bottom, thunder on the left, and mountain on the right. The word "Supreme" was on the top and "Ultimate" on the bottom. The back side had a location, date, and time.


Grant Park, Chicago, IL

4:45 PM 

March 10th, 2017

Edited by Kolohehonu
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Good, Mister Strix thought as his fingers caressed the face of the envelope. The name is spreading. He lifted the parcel up to his face and sniffed it before tearing it open. But this also means my movements are too consistent. I can't afford to be predictable. I can't afford to be careless.


His mind raced as he ran his thumb across the card. Chicago. Of course. If they've heard of me, then they probably know that everyone who matters in this city wants me dead, yesterday. If they tried doing this in Bedlam, not only would the local syndicates want their cut, but they'd blow up the whole block if they thought I might be inside. But neither the Scarpias or the Gorganzuas have any friends in the Chicago families. Taking the bait would let me get close while hiding in plain sight. So much for not being careless.


Within the hour, after a quick stop at home, Brian Brubaker was sitting in a Regency Crown taxi headed to the Bedlam "International" Airport, and a box of his "art supplies" was being over-nighted by FedEx to his hotel in Chicago. Last-minute bookings aren't cheap, and R.C. will overcharge me, especially when they find out I'm blind. No licenses, no meters, no rules. But I'm in a hurry. I need time to get the lay of the land before my "appointment." And the European galleries are still selling out, so for now, I can afford it. At least R.C. won't literally try to rob me, like a Yellow Cab driver might. And nobody else will get me to the airport faster. Garwood's people live in the Meadows, so unlike the fresh-off-the-boat rookies driving for everyone else, they actually know the way. I'll lose too much time in the air as it is. No direct flights to Chicago on Air Wisconsin. But I can fly to General Mitchell in Milwaukee, and switch to a real airline from there.

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Grant Park 

4:40 pm


The Strix fight was not the first fight at this venue. In fact when Mr. Strix arrived there was another fight going. The fight was painfully one sided and being dragged out.


The fighters were a large muscled man and a skinny young man. The skinny man was winning. The skinny man was clearly a boxer. He darted about and took dozens of light shots at the big man. The man had super human speed. Perhaps not supersonic speed but then again this looked like the guy was holding back. The crowd around him booed as he gloated over his victory. He eventually finished off the big man with a decisive knockout before having his arm held up.


"And the winner is: MACHINE GUN MACK!" A voice boomed from the low hovering drones surrounding the venue. The crowd booed, but at least some of those were affectionate. 


A man in a suit walked up to this "Mack" fellow before a similar man stepped out and was talking to another man. The man in the suit was calmly looking around, scanning the crowd as the other man began to warm up.

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Despite his best efforts, Brian didn't have much time to surveil the park. What little he did "see," he didn't like. One big wide-open space. Nothing taller than a tree for a mile in any direction. Less chance of property damage, but still surrounded by innocent people. So much moisture in the air, walking feels like swimming. Barely any heat from above at all. Sky must be overcast. But the weather reports say the sun doesn't go down for another hour. Never done this during the day before, and never with this much direct scrutiny. I doubt the usual costume will have the same impact.


Brian wasn't carrying his white cane as he made his way through the park. Don't want to draw attention to myself...until I do.



At 4:44PM, seemingly out of nowhere, a cloud of white smoke appeared at the edge of the fighting ring. Out of the smoke stepped a large man wearing a tailored silk business suit, all in white. The fabrics, the buttons, even the leather of his gloves and shoes, every piece of his outfit gleamed like ivory and alabaster. The cuff-links, buttons, and tie-tack were all shaped like tiny crescent moons. A black circle containing a white crescent moon was embroidered over the left breast of his jacket. A white mask, like a balaclava but without any eye-holes, covered his entire head. Large black teardrop-shapes around the eyes dominated the face of his mask. Small, yellow mirrored lenses covered what were presumably his eyes.

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"Oooh!" Hollered the winner of the previous match. He was wearing a fur coat, sipping something horribly alcoholic, and being hung on by two women. All this Mr. Strix could tell by smell alone. "Man I hope I get to fight this guy! He knows how to make an entrance! Yo Man my agent gonna be reaching out to you so I can take you down."


"Well Mr. Strix, it's a pleasure to finally meet you." The man in the suit said. It was a lie, a decent lie but a lie all the same. "My name is Mr. Yellow. Your opponent has requested to use weapons. Is that to your satisfaction?" This man was annoyed and made no attempt to hide it. He also had an artificial heart, there was no beat just a steady flow.


"Lt. Mark Antonio" the man said. He had a pair of tonfa in hand and gave a slight nod. "Trained all the boys in the precinct and well I'm at my best with these in hand."

Edited by Kolohehonu
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Looks like I'll have to go through the motions before I can get any answers.


Mister Strix took a deep, quiet breath to focus his senses, forcing the cacophony of heartbeats and footfalls and coughs and whispers of the surrounding crowd back into the background.


Clever. If I lose, it damages the legend I'm trying to build. If I win, I publicly humiliate the local police. Oh well. Won't be the first time I've taken down a cop.


"Don't hold back, Lieutenant" he growled. "Come at me with everything you have."

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"Gentlemen, take your positions." Mr. Yellow said before directing the two men to their positions. The cameras on the drones all swung in to record the whole match. 


"In this corner, taking a break from training Chicago's finest to teach some fools a lesson: Lt. Antonio!" Boomed the drones broadcasting some announcer's voice. "And in the other corner, some men punch, some men kick, but this man Strixes his enemies down! Mr. Strix!"


"Gentlemen ready." Mr. Yellow said holding his hand out, "3, 2, 1, fight!"

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The man in white stood almost still for several moments. His only movement for those moments was to menacingly crack the knuckles on each of his fists.  Then, without the slightest shift in stance to telegraph his movement, he burst into the air. A standing jump that would baffle an Olympian morphed seamlessly into a spinning jump kick straight out of Tae Kwon Do. It missed Lt. Antonio's head by a fraction of an inch, parting his hair like a gust of wind. It missed because it was supposed to. A kick like that would normally be used to keep a foe at a distance, but Mister Strix twisted around as smoothly as a shark through water to slide in close.

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In a flash of motion the lieutenant lunged forward. This was a wiry man, but a man who fought with precision over power. The Tonfa swung in to strike at a multitude of painful locations.


Painful if they had hit.


Not a single blow did actually connect. Each strike missed by the breadth of a hair. Lt. Antonio seemed off after the flashy kick and did not look like he was prepared for this battle. 

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Mister Strix responded to Antonio's assault with a series of rapid-fire blocks from a dizzying variety of angles, diverting the incoming strikes into circles away from him. Any fan of Hong Kong cinema would recognize it as a classic Wing Chun defense.


"You were a big fish in your little pond," he whispered. "But you're in open water now."


His Wing Chun defense suddenly shifted to a Muay Thai offense as he launched a brutal fist/elbow/knee combination at Antonio's nose, solar plexus, and jaw.

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The fist connected hard with Antonio's face. The man reeled unable to get his Tonfa up to block in time. His guard went wide and the elbow smashed his solar plexus. Before he could go down Mister Strix leapt with ridiculous athleticism and slammed his knee into the cop's jaw. 


"10, 9, 8, 7, 6," Mr. Yellow counted from the sideline, clearly bored by the one sided affair. It might make for good TV, though only in super slow motion. "5, 4, 3, 2, 1." Mr. Yellow nodded, walked over to Mister Strix, and held his hand up. 


"The winner of the match with a brutal knockout! Is Miiiiiiiiiiiiister Striiiiiiiiiiiiiix!!!" The crowd roared as the boxer beyond the ring checked if the cameras were on him and gave a nod of respect. 


"D@$& you cold! I'll see you at the party tonight or in the ring later." He shouted cockily. 


"Well your invitation I suppose." Mr. Yellow said handing Strix a glossy card the size of a business card. "I'm so glad I get to work with you. Try to be more punctual next time. Your next fight will probably be early tomorrow. That invitation will update when we finalize the schedule." 


The card itself was a metallic color, and the text was difficult to differentiate. 


Peninsula Hotel Winners Party. 

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