Doku, the Aftermath of Kelesk

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It's a little quiet in here so I'd thought posting something. I initially planned to write a reasonably short piece filling in the gap between Doku's defeat and his new updated profile. It was also meant to be a collaboration between myself and Avenger, but I got lazy :p.

There's still a lot to go, I'm probably about halfway. Posting it episodically would probably give me more motivation to finish it. Plus, it'd be cool to get comments and criticisms from you guys! All 5 of you!

Set in a futuristic capitalist metropolis, Doku gets into something far larger than he can handle and faces defeat at the hands of Kelesk. Whilst death seemed imminent, fate seemed to intervene.

A little warning for any youngsters reading. It's pretty clean, but there are couple of adult references. Subtle, but present.

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“You are free to go.”

Doku didn't recall much else after that. As soon as he had come to, Kelesk and his apprentice had left, leaving him in the frigid subway station. He ached all over, but he was certainly alive – which was more that he had expected after his encounter.

Kelesk was truly a monster. His speed and strength were phenomenal, surpassing anyone he had met beforehand. He had been lucky to survive, let alone get out reasonably intact - especially with an opponent so ruthless. Although it wasn’t that he was complaining; surviving was fine.

Gathering himself, he climbed up off of the cold floor. The station was run-down and had been out of service for a number of years, Doku recalled his “uncle” taking him there as a boy for practice. Trash sparsely populated the concrete floor, still in relatively good condition despite being neglected for so long. Confectionery wrappers made up the bulk of the clutter, however less innocent items were also present. The majority of ticket booths were boarded up, the remaining either destroyed by vandals or tiredly watching over their lost comrades.

Deciding that his escape from death would be best not spoiled by hypothermia and frostbite, Doku ascended the steps returning him to society. Kelesk certainly had caused some damage, catapulting himself down the side of a building was trivial compared to the current challenge of ascending. Virtually all of his wounds had closed, he had obtained far worse in the past and lived. This pain, however, was alien, yet somehow very familiar and tiring. How long had he been out for? Had Kelesk inflicted any permanent damage? He could check himself over when he returned home, and consult a local “doctor” if he needed to.

Doku emerged from the subway, entering the slightly better maintained streets of the “Echo” region. It wasn't the nicest region of the Metropolis by any means, but money was tough to come by and accommodation was cheap. As were most things that one might “need”. Buildings were close together and stained by pollution, it never bothered the wealthy so there was no need for them to act.

“Hey, punk! Yeah, you! Baby face!”

Doku turned, expecting a mob of ruffians ready to ambush him. Surprisingly, he was met by the sight of a crowd gathered around an individual, with what you could indeed call a baby face. The goons ranged from troubled youths to what were practically gangsters. Their victim, a middle-aged man, cowered in the centre of the mob, almost preparing himself for an upcoming beating.

“Think you can keep stuff from me?” boomed what seemed to be the ringleader. He wasn't an intimidating man by any means, reminiscent of an olden days gangster dressed in lime green, but he certainly had the rest on leashes. He suddenly put his arm around the man's shoulder and spoke into his ear;

“Remember when I said we'd let you be if you kept up the payments? That only works when you keep them up. I'm afraid some of the boys will have to remind you... Get him!”

He twirled away from the man. Suddenly, Doku felt an unusual sensation. He could picture the thug reaching into his pocket for a weapon. The bizarre thing was that he clearly hadn't done so... yet.

“It's his fault for getting involved,” Doku thought as he leapt forward, “I don't want to see people like that getting what they want though.” His fist struck the troublemaker's face, square on, sending him crashing into a lamppost. The rest of the gang turned;

“What'cha doing, old man? Feel like some trouble?” a particularly nasty brute snorted.

Old man? That was certainly a surprise, especially with his appearance. However, nobody else was on the street, let alone confronting the group. He caught a glimpse of himself in one of the few intact shop windows. Instead of the svelte adolescent to which he was accustomed, he saw a significantly more intimidating fellow. The softness of his face was gone, replaced by a serious sharp sort of elegance. It had finally set in, Kelesk had taken away much more than his valour. He had taken five perhaps even ten years of his life. A fury like no other filled Doku. Defeating Kelesk wouldn't just be for the damage he had done to the city, it would also be for his own revenge.
 
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You made a couple of mistakes, and it was way too short! Otherwise good. Good like a camel drinking water.
 
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That's funny, you're the one I got to proof read it :p. I'm still toying with "chapter" lengths. I'll make sure the next one's a little longer.
 
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That's not the version I proof-read. >:
 
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That's funny, you're the one I got to proof read it :p.
There's your mistake!

I kid, Avenger still cool man.

Also, story was good, don't worry too much about length, just let it out as you think of it. If you focus too much on the length you'll end up adding a whole heap of useless junk.
 
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I'm just complaining about length because I know Doku wrote a lot more than that. :F
 
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The second part! Longer than the last one. I've still got a fair amount in reserve!

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Deciding that it wasn't the time to boil over past events, the sword fighter resumed his fighting stance. Kelesk and his lackey would have to wait for another day, and would require much more though. Drawing his sword, he readied himself once more.

His longsword was covered in chips and cracks, scars from previous battles. It had served him well and was likely to see its demise in the near future, but it would surely survive a quick skirmish.

“A swordsman? There sure aren't many of those around anymore, are there, grandpa?” their recently recovered leader snarled, “We'll show you why, get'em boys!”

The entire group all drew their arms, ranging from simple pistols to high calibre rifles. The brutes may not have been the most sophisticated bunch but their armament and sheer numbers meant that evading harm would have been more than difficult.

Once again, Doku was enveloped with a strange sensation. He could feel the world flowing around him, every action playing itself out for his eyes to see. A storm of bullets was drifting towards him, since when did bullets drift? Either he'd already been hit or he had been bestowed another new ability by the rift. Deciding that the latter was far more appealing, he proceeded to deal with the current situation.

His surroundings all moved at a pitiful rate, every detail was embarrassingly obvious and distinct. From twitching eyes to leaking drainpipes, nothing could hide from him. His motions were seemingly unaffected, although, uncertain of how long it would last, he carried out a flurry of slashes, his main targets being the firearms.

The shots, now behind him, crashed into the graffiti covered wall behind him, he could feel the flow around him fading, and everything soon accelerated to their usual pace. The weapons, intact a fraction of a second ago, collapsed and clattered as they hit the ground. The thugs, no longer blessed with the false confidence their weapons had bestowed, made a break for it. Clearly their opponent was out of their league. Their leader was left alone, shocked at his lackeys' cowardice.

“Just you wait! I've got enough to get that Doku guy on you!” He whined as he made his get-away. His lime green suit, spoiled by the scuffle, made his exit comparable to a dancing bamboo stick.

“Kids these days.” Doku thought to himself. He stopped for a moment, since when did he consider them children? He may have the appearance of an older fellow but wasn’t he a spry youth on the inside? The damage, again, was far worse than he thought. Not only had he been robbed of his youth, he had literally been warped into his future self. Had his abilities decayed? Would this end his career, and his search for his origin? Would he have to leave all this and settle for a life of mediocrity?

“I’m not giving up just yet.” He thought, giving himself a metaphorical wake-up call. “As long as I can hunt down Kelesk, there’s something to aim for.”

It would not be an easy task, though. He'd definitely need to progress to even survive a second round with the beast. The beating he received was still vivid in his mind, and not one he'd like to take again.

There was a crack of thunder; rain began to fall from the black clouds above. This was a sign to go indoors for the entire population; no amount of money could protect you from acid rain. Home was probably a good starting point; thankfully Kelesk had spared his room key.

His journey was rather uneventful, virtually everyone was now indoors. Lights gleamed like yellow eyes from the buildings’ grey faces, watching his progress through the alley ways. At last he reached his tower. Houses were very much a luxury, a single room apartment sufficed for Doku’s needs. Trudging up the stairs was no easy task though, especially when on the twentieth floor. The continuous spiral of grey with a few “interesting” patches was one he was familiar with, although that didn’t mean it was comforting in any way.

At last, he had made it. Shoving his key into the decrepit lock, he entered what he called “home”. Limping over to his refrigerator, a luxury he had endeavoured to obtain, Doku hoped that time had been kinder to its contents than it had been to him.

Sadly, he was mistaken. He was greeted by the pungent stench of mould; virtually every item had spoiled in one way or another. Cursing Kelesk once more, he cleared it out. Figuring that sleep would have to replace food for now, Doku used the last of his might to throw himself onto his bed. Thankfully he had made his target, as lumpy as it may have been.


The next morning marked the beginning of something new. Sitting around feeling bitter wouldn’t solve anything. However, hunting down Kelesk would only result in a repeat performance. Training was out the question for now; he’d need more time to recover.

After forcing himself down the staircase once more, Doku made his way to a local food stand. It wasn’t the most glamourous place to eat, but it was cheap and he knew the owner well. He approached the stand.

“The usual, Ted.” Doku chorused.

However, the grubby owner looked at Doku; both in confusion and annoyance. Wiping his nose on his apron, he replied;

“And that would be what, buddy?”

Of course, he wasn’t recognisable any more. Nobody would believe that he’d aged a decade in the space of a week.

“My mistake, I’ll go for a large bacon roll.”

Ted smiled, showing his few remaining teeth.
“It’s funny, you remind me of a friend… haven’t seen him around in a while. That’ll be 7 credits.”

After paying and devouring his meal, Doku set off to rearm himself. He had lost his claymore sometime after the battle; it certainly wasn’t with him when he had awakened. His longsword was also at heaven’s gate, and it would be impossible to defeat Kelesk without suitable weaponry.

The problem was money. It was tough enough to get by with all the jobs he had taken; affording a decent weapon would be out of the question. He was also no longer as marketable. Nobody would hire a 40 year-old swordsman when armed men half his age would suffice.

However, there was one alternative. He’d hoped that he would never set foot in the arena again, but it looked like he had no choice. The entrance was through an old bar. He entered cautiously. The stink of beer and tobacco was only too familiar. Everyone’s eyes were on the newcomer, with his shaggy hair and torn clothes. He must have been an unusual sight even for the regulars there.

One step through the back door changed everything. Gone was the tacky tavern, replacing it was a stone corridor. It stretched for what could have been a mile or two, nobody quite knew. The skulls of the defeated were so plentiful that it was impossible to use them as landmarks.

Deciding the passage would be an ideal place to test his speed, Doku leapt forward beginning his sprint to the end. Normally it would take a couple of minutes; the scenery wasn’t pleasant so the journeys were reasonably dull. The walls rushed by, although the grey blur changed very little.

“I don’t have time for this; I need to get there now.” Doku thought furiously to himself. He didn’t have the patience for this nonsense.

That thought seemed to be the trigger of something truly weird. He felt everything slow around him, the scurrying of rats became apparent for the first time ever. Every drip from the leaking ceiling was isolated and fell alone. He could hear everything around him; nothing could surprise him.

Suddenly, the vision of the arena warped itself into view. He was there.
 
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Lazy Doku. Write more! :3
 
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I'm not lazy, I'm just liberal in my approach! I will get some more done :p.
 
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I'm just waiting for Cuc to come in and go: "Liberals, lazy people . . . same thing."
 
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You'll be holding your breath for a long time.
 
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Wait, wait, when did you become LeChuck and I Guybrush?
 
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pro·cras·ti·na·tion

noun

the act of procrastinating; putting off or delaying or defering an action to a later time
 
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Maybe posting more will revive the FC! Or prevent global warming!

Deciding that it wasn't the time to boil over past events, the sword fighter resumed his fighting stance. Kelesk and his lackey would have to wait for another day, and would require much more though. Drawing his sword, he readied himself once more.

His longsword was covered in chips and cracks, scars from previous battles. It had served him well and was likely to see its demise in the near future, but it would surely survive a quick skirmish.

“A swordsman? There sure aren't many of those around anymore, are there, grandpa?” their recently recovered leader snarled, “We'll show you why, get'em boys!”

The entire group all drew their arms, ranging from simple pistols to high calibre rifles. The brutes may not have been the most sophisticated bunch but their armament and sheer numbers meant that evading harm would have been more than difficult.

Once again, Doku was enveloped with a strange sensation. He could feel the world flowing around him, every action playing itself out for his eyes to see. A storm of bullets was drifting towards him, since when did bullets drift? Either he'd already been hit or he had been bestowed another new ability by the rift. Deciding that the latter was far more appealing, he proceeded to deal with the current situation.

His surroundings all moved at a pitiful rate, every detail was embarrassingly obvious and distinct. From twitching eyes to leaking drainpipes, nothing could hide from him. His motions were seemingly unaffected, although, uncertain of how long it would last, he carried out a flurry of slashes, his main targets being the firearms.

The shots, now behind him, crashed into the graffiti covered wall behind him, he could feel the flow around him fading, and everything soon accelerated to their usual pace. The weapons, intact a fraction of a second ago, collapsed and clattered as they hit the ground. The thugs, no longer blessed with the false confidence their weapons had bestowed, made a break for it. Clearly their opponent was out of their league. Their leader was left alone, shocked at his lackeys' cowardice.

“Just you wait! I've got enough to get that Doku guy on you!” He whined as he made his get-away. His lime green suit, spoiled by the scuffle, made his exit comparable to a dancing bamboo stick.

“Kids these days.” Doku thought to himself. He stopped for a moment, since when did he consider them children? He may have the appearance of an older fellow but wasn’t he a spry youth on the inside? The damage, again, was far worse than he thought. Not only had he been robbed of his youth, he had literally been warped into his future self. Had his abilities decayed? Would this end his career, and his search for his origin? Would he have to leave all this and settle for a life of mediocrity?

“I’m not giving up just yet.” He thought, giving himself a metaphorical wake-up call. “As long as I can hunt down Kelesk, there’s something to aim for.”

It would not be an easy task, though. He'd definitely need to progress to even survive a second round with the beast. The beating he received was still vivid in his mind, and not one he'd like to take again.

There was a crack of thunder; rain began to fall from the black clouds above. This was a sign to go indoors for the entire population; no amount of money could protect you from acid rain. Home was probably a good starting point; thankfully Kelesk had spared his room key.

His journey was rather uneventful, virtually everyone was now indoors. Lights gleamed like yellow eyes from the buildings’ grey faces, watching his progress through the alley ways. At last he reached his tower. Houses were very much a luxury, a single room apartment sufficed for Doku’s needs. Trudging up the stairs was no easy task though, especially when on the twentieth floor. The continuous spiral of grey with a few “interesting” patches was one he was familiar with, although that didn’t mean it was comforting in any way.

At last, he had made it. Shoving his key into the decrepit lock, he entered what he called “home”. Limping over to his refrigerator, a luxury he had endeavoured to obtain, Doku hoped that time had been kinder to its contents than it had been to him.

Sadly, he was mistaken. He was greeted by the pungent stench of mould; virtually every item had spoiled in one way or another. Cursing Kelesk once more, he cleared it out. Figuring that sleep would have to replace food for now, Doku used the last of his might to throw himself onto his bed. Thankfully he had made his target, as lumpy as it may have been.
 

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