Round 1 Action

The Tournament

Round 1 Damien Johnson (offense) vs Kyle Devore (defense)

1-23-2035

"This is quite a climb," Kyle Devore gasped, adjusting his hiking pack a little higher on his back. Three seconds later it settled right back down where it had been.

Damien Johnson snorted with amusement. "It's not even a 5 degree climb! Suck it up, puffin-stuff!"

Kyle sucked it up. This was not his idea of a vacation but his voice wasn't snotty as he replied, "how did I let you talk me into this shit? At least at the beach it wouldn't have been drizzling and the sand dunes wouldn't have been a 17 mile slant!"

"Hey, this builds character." Damien returned lightly. Fat droplets of water beaded on his blonde goatee but he refused to pull the hood of his Redskins jacket over his head. He seemed to want to enjoy every second of this experience.

Kyle shuddered and pulled his own Redskins jacket hood tighter over his head. What a way to end a three year streak of no vacations. Still, this beat his accounting job all to hell. His mind still reflecting on his horrid job, Kyle didn't see the flat rock. His boot slipped on the moist surface and he pitched to the left and slammed his arm against a thick tree trunk.

His gasp alerted Damien, who darted to his side. "You okay?"

Kyle's arm was killing him, but he just shrugged. "It's cool. I didn't see the stupid rock." They continued on. The incident shook Kyle out of his funk. He could make the best of this situation, meaning pay attention to where he was going among other things, or he could bitch to himself for the next three days. Not only would that close his mind to the possibility he could actually have a good time, but he could brain himself against a tree the size of a house if he was preoccupied with being a grouch.

Heartened, he picked up his speed and soon was matching Damien's strides. It was because of Kyle's temperament that Damien ended up making most of the decisions. It was not that Kyle was weak minded or a doormat, he just didn't get emotionally invested in simple decisions. And he and Damien were like minded enough that they had the same interests and likes most of time. So it was easier to let Damien have his way rather than get worked up about whether to go to the bar or a movie.

People often mistook them for brothers. Though they had only known each other since meeting in college ten years ago, it now seemed like they had been friends all their lives. Every since the first night hanging out at the bars together it had felt this way.

Whether it arguing over who knew more Billy Joel lyrics, which Jet Li movie rocked the hardest, or which shorthaired waitress was more attractive, their similar tastes gave them much in common while ensuring they always had something to lightly compete against each other about.

They even looked enough alike to be mistaken for brothers even by people who didn't know their personalities. Damien was two inches taller at five feet eleven inches but Kyle was a little heavier at 200 pounds. Both men had dirty blonde hair. The biggest physical difference between them was Kyle's inclination to be clean shaven.

Their close bond was important to Kyle because he didn't make friends easy. Damien was the first true friend he'd had since Karl died. He had begun to believe he might never have another one.

If not for one titanic difference in their approach to adversity, Kyle might have been able to convince himself they were brothers separated at birth.

Damien looked over at him, seeming pleased that his friend had improved both his pace and his spirits. He opened his mouth to speak and was interrupted by a jutting branch tripping him. The man pitched forward and landed face first in the damp leaves. His left hand collided with a tree and folded back painfully.

"GODDAMN IT!" Damien fumed. He leapt to his feet and seized the branch, pulling it out of the mud it had been sinking into. Screaming with rage, he hammered the branch into the tree until it was shattered into a thousand bits.

Tossing aside the last fragment, he cradled his injured hand and spat, "that fucking hurt!"

"That was fucked up." Kyle agreed. When it became obvious that this time there wasn't going to be a half hour profanity laced rant, he went on. "You wanna rest here for while?"

Damien was still trembling with rage. His lips were drawn up tightly against his teeth like white rubber bands. His feral eyes darted to Kyle then looked away just as quickly. His uninjured hand was clenched into a fist so tightly he was likely breaking the skin with his short nails. Several heaving breathes later, the man straightened, shaking his head. "Nah, man. It's only a couple more miles to the cabin." Sparing a glance of pure, unadalterated hatred at the tree, he started quickly up the hill without looking to see if Kyle was coming.

Kyle had the oddest feeling that if his friend could have pulled the tree out by it's roots and torn it apart with his teeth, he would have. He'd seen this anger froth over many times. It was frightening at times, though the fury had never once been directed at Kyle. He got the feeling, however, that despite how much he had witnessed it was in actuality the tip of the iceberg.

Kyle shuddered again, but this time the rain had little to do with it. He gamely fought up the hill behind Damien, wishing he could get the lyrics of Joel's Pressure out of his mind.

It was getting dark. They'd been hiking since noon, and there was no sign of the cabin. Damien plowed on, cursing when encountering thorny bushes and huffing when his normally reliable boots slipped on the drenched rocks concealed by fallen leaves and branches. He didn't seem concerned by the lack of the cabin's appearance ahead of them. He gave every indication that he knew exactly where he was going, despite the fact that he'd said it was only a couple miles from where they parked.

Kyle was finally ready to ask his friend to fess up if he was lost when his eye caught an irregular shape ahead of them. He jerked his flashlight from his belt and turned it on. The light was barely enough that they could make out a wall made of logs. "Finally!" He sighed with pleasure. "I'm ready to stoke up a fire and change clothes!"

"That's not it!" Damien growled, seeming annoyed and confused.

"What do you mean? This is right in our path. Or are we lost?" Kyle teased.

Damien recovered. "Of course not. It just doesn't look like it."

"You told me you haven't even seen it. You've just been following your friend's directions. Besides, its too far to even see clearly right now. Come on, let's check it out!" Kyle kept his voice light, but Damien was not making any sense.

Why would he think this was not the cabin if it couldn't even be seen clearly from this far away and was directly in their path? That didn't make any sense.

Damien followed gamely but without comment.

He must have been lost after all and his outburst had been because he couldn't believe his good fortune in stumbling across the cabin.

The cabin was unlit, despite the increasing darkness of the sky. That was fine because Damien had said it would be empty this weekend. But as they closed within better viewing range they both saw the sagging door. The windows had been broken a long time ago, and there was actually branches sticking through the wholes from vegetation growing inside. It looked like part of the roof had collapsed, and the porch was a sunken disaster.

The well to the side of the cabin also had branches and vines emerging from it, so that didn't look too promising either.

"I hope you didn't pay this guy too much to rent this." Kyle quipped lightheartedly.

"I told you this wasn't it." Damien snapped.

Kyle, who was getting a little tired of his grim mood and of this entire idea, snapped back, "then where the hell is it? You originally said it was within a couple miles. It has been three times that far, at least."

"He said we couldn't miss the lake, and it was right on the lake. I don't know how I could have gotten us so far off the track that we'd miss the lake." His friend replied, a little less tersely. Damien passed his friend and peeked into the cabin curiously.

This was the first he'd heard of a lake. Wouldn't it have made sense to mention that big a landmark? Two sets of eyes were better than one, after all. Damien was not the kind of egomaniac who had to control everything. The time they'd gone to the fishing cabin near Boulder Damien had written out every main landmark and exit just in case he missed something. Why wouldn't he have mentioned the lake before?

And how come he was dead positive this cabin was not the one, from so far away? Because the lake wasn't in sight? It could have been on the other side of the cabin.

Damien tested his weight on a beam of the porch that was still intact and then hopped on it. He leaned forward and stuck his head and upper body through the door, turning his head every way and looking. "This place has been abandoned for over a decade, at least." He muttered.

It was starting to drizzle again, but Kyle barely noticed it. Why had he been so positive from two hundred yards away that this cabin was not the one?

"What's this cabin dude's name again?" Kyle asked casually.

There was really only one way to be that sure.

Damien leaned back and darted a look at his friend. "Calvin. And I really don't think he'd send us on a wild goose chase. I'd kick his ass real good when we got home."

The only way Damien could be totally positive instead of just "thinking" it wasn't the right cabin was if there was no cabin that was his destination. That would also explain his confusion when one appeared ahead of them. And would explain why they had walked for hours without reaching it when it was supposed to be within two miles of the parking spot.

"Um," Kyle stammered, not able to really believe his ears or his thoughts. "You told me before that his name was Clarence."

Damien was leaping from the porch. He landed awkwardly and barely got his hands up in time to steady himself on a small tree in his path. "No I didn't."

"Yes," Kyle replied firmly, "you did."

Damien's face broke into a pleasing grin. "I know what my friend's name is, Kyle."

"Then why did you give me two different ones?" Kyle was getting pissed. This was some kind of elaborate practical joke. Damien must have been intending on ditching him at the first opportunity ... a kind of grown up version of a snipe hunt. Kyle was not amused. His first vacation in three fucking years and Damien picks this time for an immature game? When they could have gone to the beach for a great time all the way around? He didn't get truly angry very often, but this really took the cake. This was the kind of lapse in judgment that could derail friendships. Damien had better come clean and makes amends somehow or this could be their last outing together.

Damien's voice was filling with anger. "What are you trying to say?"

"I'm not trying to say anything, motherfucker! I'm saying that you said this cabin was within a couple miles of the car, it's been about 12 miles. I'm saying that you knew before we were within two hundred feet of this cabin that it wasn't our destination! I'm saying that you just now mentioned a lake being a landmark for the first time, despite the fact that you're so anal you would have told me that from jumpstreet. And, finally, I'm saying that you've given me two fucking names for this supposed friend that you've never mentioned before until last week!"

The object of his ire nodded, dropping any pretense of this being a misunderstanding or misspoken word. "I guess I can't pull anything past you, can I?"

"What is this all about?" Kyle demanded, barely aware that it was completely dark now and his flashlight was their only illumination.

Damien pulled his heavy pack off his shoulders and set it on the ground. Then he reached into his jacket and pulled out a gruesome looking curved knife. It gleamed crisply in the flashlight's beam. When he lifted his eyes, Kyle could see unchained fury. A homicidal rage so deep, so complete that they could have been the eyes of a starving caveman, the last warrior of a destroyed Indian tribe, or a religious fanatic ready to light the match and drop it on his own gas soaked body. When he spoke, his voice was devoid of any part of Damien that Kyle recognized from ten years of friendship. Pulling out the weapon, the infuriated man said, "murder. It's about murder, Kyle."

"I've just about had it with this fucking joke, Damien." Kyle said with mock anger. His real anger had vanished with the appearance of the knife. And he didn't believe for a second that his friend was joking. But he said it out of reflex and perhaps a wild hope.

Damien advanced, brandishing the knife efficiently and without any melodrama.

Kyle backed away, and any pretense of mistaking this for a joke was gone. All he was left with was a heavy pack on his back, a single flashlight against the darkest night he had ever known with this heavy tree cover, and countless miles of empty woods between him and help or at the least witnesses.

His friend turned murderer matched him step for step. His face was a mask of fury. His lips muttered soundlessly, his eyes were alight with maniacal glee, and his fist clenched whitely on the haft of the hideous knife.

"What is this all about?" Kyle pleaded. "I haven't down anything to you! I wasn't the reason Sheryl broke up with you."

Damien seemed amused at that, though it was hard to tell. The response seemed to disprove his wild theory, however.

Talking was obviously not the answer. His pack was a huge disadvantage. He had to get it off without leaving himself open to attack. But maybe it was time to stand his ground and call Damien's bluff. He stopped firmly and jerked his pack off with two savage motions.

Damien rushed forward as soon as Kyle was occupied with the pack. The friend turned murderer got there just as the other man turned and swung the pack against his head. Kyle was a second quicker than his companion, and the air was filled with Damien's scream as the heavy pack drove his face into the tree next to them. The wicked knife fell heavily to the ground.

Kyle stumbled away, towards the cabin. He turned off and pocketed the flashlight. In a minute he gathered his wits and broke into a run.

"Come back here you little cocksucker!" Damien bellowed in a voice more infuriated than Kyle had ever heard. He sounded possessed. "COME BACK HERE!"

Kyle didn't slow. The pack, which he grasped by the straps, swung back and forth and collided with his legs with every stride but not even that could slow him. The night was so pitch black that he sensed the trees rather than saw them until they were with a noise. Twice he smashed an arm or leg into a thick trunk and not even that could slow him.

"KYLE! COME BACK HERE NOW!" A pause, as he perhaps realized how silly his request was. "I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU, KYLE! I'M GOING TO RIP YOUR LIVING GUTS OUT AND SHOWER THE FOREST FLOOR WITH YOUR BLOOD! DO YOU HEAR ME, KYLE?!?"

Kyle heard him. He didn't stop to ponder what on earth he could have done to so infuriate his former friend. He didn't question his own sanity that his reality could have changed so dramatically in just ten minutes. Just ten minutes ago he and his long time and assuredly lifelong friend were hiking within seeing distance of the old cabin. Now he was running for his life and Damien was screaming a desire to gut him like a pig, sounding every bit as insane as anyone Kyle had ever heard.

After a while the voice was lost behind him. Damien must have started his hunt. Kyle finally slowed to avoid injuring himself in the darkness, but he didn't dare turn on his flashlight.

At some point he'd dropped his pack but it was about ten minutes after the fact before he realized it. And it wasn't until he slowed that he realized how big a mistake it was because he was out here miles from nowhere with nothing but the clothes on his back to sustain and protect him from the elements.

Maybe he could backtrack and get back to the road. The only problem was that in this visibility, without a flashlight, he had no realistic chance to make it. Completely despondent, Kyle picked a tree and sat down heavily. "Fuck it." Kyle muttered softly, near tears.

He was going to sit right here until morning. In one spot, he'd be safe. In the morning he could see where he was going and if Damien was coming at him.

Kyle leaned his head back against the tree and sighed pitifully.

A shudder passed through the world...

Kyle Devore opened his eyes. He was on the CIG bed, and his real life was rushing back into his head.

Damien Johnson was stirring next to him.

Damien was soon up and out of his gear, but Kyle made no effort to do the same. He'd quit again. He couldn't believe it. And again against his most hated rival!

Damien was hovering over him. "You broke and ran like a bitch, Kyle. Again! Hiding in the woods? Cowering next to a tree and waiting for sunlight with tears on your face? Jesus Christ! You disgust me! You're beneath contempt! Why don't you do us all a favor and quit so I won't have to ever dirty myself by playing you again."

Kyle couldn't find a word to reply.

Damien snorted and stormed away. "Fucking loser." He muttered.

Cristy was here now. She helped Kyle off with his gear and embraced him when he left the table. "I love you." She gushed, showering his face with kisses. "You did great."

"I can't believe it." Kyle muttered. The first couple seconds after coming back from a game was always the biggest shock. Going from Damien being his best friend turned bewildering murderer to a hated rival who happened to also be a jackass was a bit of a shock.

"Let's go see how the others did." Kyle said sadly, leading his girlfriend away from the game room.

Home

Gabrielle Sallor (offense) vs Kurt Shilling (defense)

Katya Floski (offense) vs Kim Jong (defense)

Anne Layden (offense) vs Sissy Crydom (defense)

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