After my interview with Christopher, I arrived at the potential lead I mentioned in the first post. Unfortunately, it was a bust. Lizard people lurking in the sewers. I was intrigued and all, but the Bizarre feeling never arose in me.
After that interview finished, I drove aimlessly through cities and towns, through long and short creepy roads.
I hoped the Bizarre would find me like it always has. It eventually did, but before I get into that, I want to discuss a dream I had last night. It was astronomically Bizarre. In the dream, a bright white light beguiled me from a distance as I stood in a dull, mist-walled room. A female voice enounced something inaudible within the light.
That hamstringing inkling of fear and uncertainty I get when the Bizarre is present was amplified tenfold, gripping my body painfully.
“What’s happening?” My voice echoed as the light above sputtered erratically before going black, abandoning me to darkness.
“Hello?”
Suddenly, there was this explosion. In a matter of seconds, strange colors consumed me. While shielding my eyes, I heard a cluster of massive footsteps barreling towards me. I attempted to see past the blinding colors. My eyes felt mushy, my skin drooped like liquid, and my bones withered before turning into ash.
Then I woke up.
I’ve had weird dreams before. This, however, is the first time I dreamt of anything of this magnitude. The significance of this strange dream is something I simply can’t understand, not yet at least. If it happens again, I’ll write about it.
-——–
My reliable Mitsubishi Eclipse clunker has gotten me through the States, with scratches and all. I don’t care what happens to it. If I could afford better, I would.
Anyway, I got in an accident.
Some hotshot blew a red light and clipped the tail end of my car, causing me to swerve and hit a light post.
I suffered no injuries aside from a good scare, but my car sustained—at least in my eyes—minor damages. There’s now a broken taillight, a dent where the impact occurred, and some cracked glass on the back windshield.
The cops took my statement, and I was told that I could drive my car. However, I had to make repairs if I didn’t want to be pulled over in the future. I said I would.
I lied.
I told the paramedics that I was okay and went on my way, but after a short while of driving, I felt sick and thought it best to go to the hospital. Arriving at the hospital, something wiggled within my skin and burrowed into my bones. I couldn’t help but tremble.
Suddenly, I felt like this was where I needed to be.
-——–
Title of Interview: The Fighter
Location: Salt Lake City, UT
Interview Setting: LDS Hospital
Date: 01/13/2024
Attendees: Joshua Angkitz (Interviewer) and Ted Markins (Interviewee)
Affiliation with The Bizarre: Interviewee bedridden after fighting inhuman entity…
[The hospital lobby embraced me with a strange feeling—one that always precedes unexplainable events.
A string, tethered by strangeness and unpredictability, knotted itself around my waist and pulled me towards two giant sliding doors.
There was no way I could enter without grabbing the attention of the receptionist lady. I doubt anyone could waltz right in without talking to her first.
I noticed the lights flickering before the spill. A cup filled with an unknown liquid (probably water) was placed at the center of the counter. It spilled, seemingly by itself, onto the receptionist lady’s computer.
She muttered something under her breath before getting up from her seat and opening a drawer. I took this time to get past her and waltz right in.
The intangible tether blindly led me through the hospital halls. I passed room after room, unsure which was my destination. After five minutes of walking, the tug loosened until, a few steps later, it was abruptly cut.
Next to me was a slit-open door. I hear coughing coming from inside. Hard and wet, painful even.
“What the hell are you doing in my room?” said a man in a worn-out voice.
“I don’t know…” I stammered, silence swelling between us.
He lay on a bed. His right arm was in a cast and his head was supported by wires. His left eye was black and barely open while his right eye didn’t look any favorable. Despite the condition he was in—broken and stationary—he looked like he was healing nicely.
He reminds me of a young Mike Tyson. I wholeheartedly expected to be shooed away, but to my astonishment, he embraced my presence.
“You don’t look crazy or dangerous, I guess you can stay,” he says, gruffly, “But, Whaddya want?”
“Can I interview you?” I asked, “Please? Something tells me I have to.”
He looked puzzled but shortly responded with, “I guess. Why the hell not?”
“Thanks,” I say while hitting the record button.]
Joshua A: My name is Joshua, Joshua Angkitz.
Ted M: Ted Markins.
Joshua A: Well, Ted. I gotta say, man. What happened?
Ted M: I fought someone.
Joshua A: Someone or something?
Ted M: [His mouth cracks a smile.] A bit of both, maybe. Not really sure. God, everything fucking hurts.
[Ted’s voice sounded hoarse, so I handed him his glass of water.]
Ted M: Thanks.
Joshua A: Of course. So…you fought someone stronger? Meaner?
Ted M: Something like that…if I’m being honest, I think I fought a demon.
Joshua A: A demon? Burnt skin, horns, and black eyes? That sort of demon?
Ted M: Nah. He didn’t have those features. He just fought like one. Imagine a man no bigger than you yet somehow stronger.
His name is Daken. He’s an infamous underground street fighter whose reputation revolves solely around him never being hit. [Laughs.] Some say he’s faster than a speeding bullet. It’s an over-exaggeration, but when you’re fighting him…there’s some truth to it.
Joshua A: Who is he to you? Because it sounds like there’s history.
Ted M: He’s a fucking murderer! [Inflammation coughs, mesh with spit and blood flies outwardly from his mouth.]
Joshua A: Are you–
Ted M: I’m fine! [Another heavy painful cough.] He’s a monster. That’s what he really is. [Sigh.] I thought I was ready. I thought that if I prepared myself, trained endlessly, and heightened my mentality, I would be ready.
[Faint moans can be heard from outside. Squeaky wheels roll uncomfortably down the halls as a female voice speaks through the intercom. I glance at the door and look beyond the small window to spot people passing by.
Looking closely at the small window, I can’t help but notice a handprint.]
Ted M: My dad…my dad was a fighter back in the day. You should have seen him, Joshua, with the beating that man could endure. You’d think he enjoyed getting hit. [Laughs.] He always said getting punched hurts less than not punching back.
Joshua A: [We share a laugh.] And where is your dad now?
Ted M: He’s dead. Been dead for a long time. Daken killed him and somehow got away with it. I always think back to the day he died. Everything felt off.
On the day he died, he got offered a fight over the phone. I remember him being confused. I heard him say, “Win or lose? It doesn’t matter? I get that much either way? Fuck. Of course, I’m down, but it has to be today?”
Getting offered a fight on short notice was common for my dad. He’s a firm believer that if you aren’t ready to get down and potentially get fucked up on a whim, then you’re not ready for the world. [Laughs.] His view of the world was terrifying, man. I saw it in his fucking eyes. I saw it in the way he fought. I guess he believed it was all he was good for…hurting people.
I never viewed him that way, though. Nah. I know others did, but not me. To me, he was this badass. He’s a man with a tempered mind, a soldier. But just like any soldier, there’s pain.
Pain that doesn’t go away easily, pain that poisons those closest to you…Rots you from the inside. [Brief pause.] Why didn’t he fucking listen to me?
I must’ve told him more than a dozen times not to take that damn fight. It just didn’t feel right, man. Everything about it was odd, like the amount of green he was offered.
Joshua A: How much was he offered?
Ted M: 300 thousand. Win or lose.
Joshua A: That’s a lot of money.
Ted M: Exactly.
I knew there had to be some shady shit going on. No one has ever been offered that much, especially for a fighter like my dad. His fans were residents of the area, people from the bar, neighbors, and a few church buddies.
I kept telling him that something didn’t feel right, but he kept reassuring me that everything was going to be alright. He said, “Somos Guerreros, Mijo.” That’s “We are warriors” in Spanish. He continued, “It’s in our blood, in the way we carry ourselves. Our hearts and souls are strengthened with the inability to go down. And besides, I got you, my good luck charm. How can I lose if you’re in my corner?”
[Ted let out a heavy sigh as his eyes lowered.]
Ted M: 20 seconds…that’s how long my dad lasted. [Coughs.] I was confused more than I was shocked. There was no way my dad, the man who I saw as a living legend, could lose to someone like…[Coughs.] like him. [Ted’s voice cracks at the word “him.”]
Wanna know what hurts though? You want to know what haunts me day in and day out? It wasn’t the fact that asshole murdered my dad and got no jail time. Supposedly, men in black paid his bail. But I ain’t know nothing about that.
Nah. What hurts more is that he came up to me after the fight. He whispered into my ear a sentence so fucking enormous it burdened me. It fucking consumed me man.
He said, “That was your hero? What a joke.” I should’ve swung and given him the deadliest right hook an 11-year-old could give. Instead I…I did nothing. Before he left, he told me rather excitedly, “I look forward to our inevitable fight, kid.”
He then left, but goddamn was I going to make sure he regretted those words. Yeah, it took a long fucking time, but I eventually found him.
Joshua A: I don’t want to sound mean or anything, Ted. But look where it got you.
Ted M: [Laughs.] I’m very aware of my situation, Joshua. The day I found him, I was as happy as a kid in a candy shop.
I found this guy, Jordan Bloom. He uploads fights on the internet, so I reached out to him. Told him I was interested in being a contender. After some back-and-forth, he told me the location of the next fight.
These little skirmishes never take place in the same location. Arriving at the spot in this janky abandoned factory, I found and spoke with Jordan who later introduced me to Phoebe Kennedy, the organizer of the fights. I told her that I wanted to fight Daken. She told me to go fuck myself.
I convinced her by saying that if I won, she wouldn’t have to pay me. If I died, she could profit from my death any way she liked.
A week later, Jorden called with the time and place. When I arrived, there was this tension in the air. It felt like I’d just entered hell itself. I’ve never been more afraid in my life than in that moment. My heart wouldn’t stop pounding.
They brought me into this dugout. I slid down it and waited for Daken to arrive. Phoebe then spoke up.
“Viewers of Rumble!” she said over the loudspeakers, “I have here before you a fighter who has expressed pea–brained levels of clearheadedness. He wishes to duke it out with our deadliest champion, Daken the Untouched! Now, either this man is crazy, or he has a set of platinum balls on him. I’ll bet on the former.”
I then heard a loud thud behind me. Immediately, my body tensed up. Slowly, I turned around, and I…I saw him glaring at me.
I should probably describe him a little better to you. He’s a short white male, about 5’10”, lean, with long black hair draping over his eyes, and bony knuckles with little flesh.
I noticed him grin, he recognized who I was immediately.
“Look at you, kid. You’ve grown taller than your father, bigger too. Have you come to slay the monster? Do you think you can?” he snickered, before adding, “I’ll go easy on you, kid. Give these folks a genuine show.”
My throat tightened, and suddenly I was 11 again.
“He’s not ready,” Daken said sarcastically, “Pity. Seems like you and dear old daddy are bound to make the same mistakes. I hope you last longer than him, though. His death barely aroused me.”
[Ted pauses, I notice movement in one of his hands. His fingers wiggled and curved slowly and painfully until a tight fist was formed.]
Ted M: Fuck you…that’s what I told him. [Laughs] And shortly after doing so, Phoebe announced, “Let’s get ready to rumble folks.”
I rushed him, throwing a series of punches. The bastard dodged every single one of them. His speed was no joke. He was certainly fast. Half of the hits I took were hits I didn’t even see coming.
I spent years training my body to become something unknown, even to myself…all that work and I was losing fast, no doubt about it.
Stumbling, I struggled to stay upright. My forearms started to hurt. Blood dripped slowly from my swollen lips as my vision blurred. I didn’t know how much more I could endure.
I didn’t go there to get my ass kicked. I wanted to break him. I needed to.
Blood gushed out my nose, and my breaths grew further apart from one another. All I could do was shimmy side to side, trying my fucking best to hide the pain. But any decent fighter could see through it.
“Winning against me is impossible, kid. At this point, you’re only hurting yourself!” he said, delivering a devastating body shot. Barely saw it coming.
I knelt and let out a wheezing breath. My body started shutting down Glancing up, my eyes widened as a fist came barreling towards me.
One second I was looking at him, I was on the ground come the next just staring at the sky. I thought he was going to kill me. Shit, he could have.
Instead, he crouched beside me and said, “Congratulations! You’re still alive, and you lasted longer than your old man.”
I hear Phoebe praise Daken for another well-earned win. Everyone started cheering his fucking name. I felt like a failure.
“Don’t beat yourself up, kid. No amount of training could have aided in this fight,” he said.
What would my dad say, right? [Long pause.] Lying in the dirt, that’s all I could think of: my dad.
What were his final thoughts? Were they of me—or the fight? An old memory then came to me as I lay on the ground. I used to practice with my dad and well…he would kick my ass. Every time he stood over me, he would always say this one thing that would drive me nuts.
Joshua A: And what may that be?
Ted M: So, you gonna get up or are you comfortable on the ground?
Gathering all the strength I had, I pulled myself up. And at the moment, as I stood before a surprised Daken, all the pain and all the fear fucking faded away.
“Who…” I spat, “Who said I was done, you little shit.” [Wheezy laugh.] The spectators cheered. They were probably just thrilled to see that the fight wasn’t over, shit—it was just getting started.
Daken then said something that I didn’t quite understand. “You’re different, like me. Lusus Naturae has awakened within you. Let’s see what you can do.”
Confused, I asked, “The what now?”
He smiled and simply replied. “It’s not too important, just know that from this point on, the real fight begins.” He started laughing. It freaked me out, but what really fucked with me was…well he showed me his eyes…and I gotta say, he certainly wasn’t human. I don’t know what the hell he is. His eyes, they…they were smoldering red, and I saw something within them. Rage.
“What the hell are you?” I stammered out. His reply was brief.
“A champion!” he bellowed. His voice suddenly grew deeper. He charged at me, flinging dirt off his heels as he did so.
His punches were heavier. They dug into my skin like knives. I was afraid my body was going to shut down again, but instead I…I got stronger.
Hard to explain how, but I just did. I managed to strike him on the nose.
Stumbling back, he cupped his nose. When he removed it, he saw blood covering his hand. Fucker was afraid, I saw it in his eyes.
“You actually got one good lick in.” Anger rattled his voice.
“The untouched has been touched,” I said mockingly.
We launched ourselves at each other like two wild animals. Clipping his right cheek, I sliced it open real good. “That?” I mocked, “That’s your blood.”
The bastard grimaced, and all I could do was smile. This only seemed to anger him more.
I noticed him wince and quietly grimace when he got hit. I realized very quickly that despite how good of a fighter Daken claimed to be, he was missing a core element: his control over his emotions.
Getting hit was something he clearly wasn’t comfortable with. And because of that innate feeling of discomfort, he was getting sloppy. Me? [Laughs.] I was perfectly fine with getting my ass kicked if it meant I had a chance of beating him. He was nearly as bloody as me. [Chuckles.] I embraced every second.
Unfortunately, he was still fast. A swift kick to the face ended up fucking up my vision.
Daken, the little shit, took notice and seized the opportunity. I could feel the wind creeping up on me. The sheer force of his onslaught wasn’t something my body could endure much longer.
I was close to going down again, and I wasn’t sure if I could get back up. So, I took the punches to get a sense of where he’d be. I listened to his feet stomping the ground, his heavy breaths, and his gritting teeth. I just had to wait. When the moment arose, I seized it.
I bent my knees and narrowed my eyes. My knuckles popped as my breath slowed. At that moment, just for a single second, things weren’t blurry no more.
I guess for you—you’d probably say I hit him with a good well-timed punch. But that wasn’t it. I hit him with something only a vengeful son could hit with him.
Joshua Angkitz: And what may that be?
Ted M: Freedom. His head jerked unnaturally to the side. I heard a sickening crack. The skin on my knuckles peeled off as my fist slid across his face. My arms felt staticky. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking, even now I could feel them tremble a little.
Then, everything went dead quiet.
“I can’t believe it!” Phoebe said, “Daken…has been knocked out.” A roaring crowd instantly greeted me. That force that had given me strength left my body, leaving me completely drained. I walked a few feet just before I collapsed. The cheer of ravenous fans carried me to the darkness. If I were to have died at that moment, Joshua, I wouldn’t be upset or angry. I would be happy. I would have died knowing that I won.
[His voice gave out on the last word. He coughed heavily, splats of blood flew out from his mouth. I walked towards him to help, but he shook his head.]
Ted M: I’m alright. It all still hurts…
Joshua A: What happened next? How did you get here?
Ted M: [Heavy sigh.] The cheers, Joshua. They stopped, they faded slowly, but it wasn’t because I was losing consciousness. I heard faint footsteps walking towards me. I felt someone standing over me, felt their cold breath on my face.
“You’re a strong one, kid,” Daken said, tapping me in the chest before continuing. “I admired that, it takes guts going against me. I won’t lie, now, you got some good licks in. There was a moment where I was afraid you might actually kill me.” His chilling laugh shivered what remained of my dignity.
“I know this won’t be anything,” he said, “But you’ve earned my respect, and so I’ll do you a solid. I’ll allow you to take the money from this fight so that you may recover, if that’s even possible. When you’re back and ready to brawl again, find me. You still got a father to avenge, after all.”
I blacked out shortly after he finished talking and woke up here. Nurses say I was dropped off. I can’t feel much. My arms are fucked and everything hurts. I keep trying to wiggle my toes, but I don’t know if they are actually moving.
[I glanced at his toes. They’re not.]
Joshua A: Holy shit, Ted. I don’t know what to say.
Ted M: Say “good luck” ‘cause I’m gonna fight him again. My doctor said I’m healing up fairly faster than I should. He honestly can’t explain it. As soon as I get out of here, I’m going to find him, and I’m going to make sure he doesn’t get back up.
Listen, I know my dad wanted me to have a better life, but that’s impossible because if I don’t…I need to kill him for what he did and for what took. Joshua, what kind of son would I be if I didn’t? It doesn’t matter. You don’t fucking understand. This is my life. It’s all I got.
Joshua A: Let’s say you recover and fight him again. You kill him. What then?
Ted M: Then…then I can finally get a good night’s rest.
-——–
Listening back to the recording. I heard Ted’s broken voice through the small speaker, heard all that pain lingering inside of him. This is my life. It’s all I got.
Ted’s mania for revenge gave him tunnel vision. I understand his desire to avenge his murdered father, but I fear this obsession will get him killed. A good man lurks beneath the trauma, I hope he finds some peace.
I looked up what “Lusus Naturae” means. Daken supposedly awakened this within Ted. It means “Freak of Nature.”
It’s got me thinking. Do I have it? Is it a gene hidden within our DNA? Ted got his activated during that fight. Did the alleyway activate mine? If so, is there a way to deactivate it? (there probably isn’t.)
I’ve thought about going back to that alleyway, but I just don’t have the strength for that.
As I left the hospital, I felt this itch behind my neck. I turned and noticed that orb again, now two, veiled in a transparent cosmic haze.
I couldn’t help but think…they kinda look like eyes.