Handful of Nails

Inside of a prison in Pyongyang, North Korea, “Hammerhand” Blake Luthor paces as if he were a caged tiger. He occasionally glances from his prison cell to see many of the other fighters that have been imprisoned there to fight for the Death Sport Tournament. Many of them from some American wrestling company.

Blake knows that he probably shouldn’t be in a prison cell as he’s on loan from the Warhammer Corporation, but this is the kind of accommodations that he is used to having where he normally spends his days.

The Akira Dome. A hidden pit of death and despair where the elite of the Warhammer Corporation and indeed the entire world go to satiate their bloodthirsty desires in watching death sport. It is the dream combat ring of the elite and the dreaded nightmare for the incompetent have the chance to find their way into the pits to try to fight their way back into favor.

Blake has spent more than twenty years in the Akira Dome. An accountant in what seems like a former life, Blake was caught embezzling funds. Instead of spending time in prison, Blake elected to go to the Akira Dome where he could put his skills in bare knuckle boxing to the test. As he found out, he really enjoyed fighting others to the death. He’s paid his debts to the company many times over and now fights to line his own pockets. Not that he can reach into his own pockets with ease anymore. Much of the money he earns goes to pain killing drugs to ease the pain in his hands, though he does find that the blood of his enemies makes for the best kind of pain relieving lotion.

BLAKE LUTHOR: Death Sport Tournament. It’s a funny thing that they come up with like it’s brand new.

Blake punches one of the bars of the prison, denting it with ease though the impact does break the skin of his knuckle to reveal dull metal beneath the blood.

BLAKE LUTHOR: You people are nothing but a bunch of nails to be driven into the wood and I have the fucking hammers.

A guard walks by at this time and looks at Blake with a chuckle.

GUARD: Dangsin-eun jug-eul salam-e daehan jasingam-i kkeumjjighabnida.

Blake flexes his fingers in his hands with a grim smile as the sounds of metallic pings fill the air.

BLAKE LUTHOR: I don’t know what the fuck you just said, but you know I ain’t here cause I’m like one of those American wrestler people. I’m here to be a fucking executioner!

The guard gets nearer to the bars with an arrogant grin.

GUARD: You not belong here. You here for dying.
BLAKE LUTHOR: Is that so? You know what though?

A quick palm strike to the bars hard enough to do a slight bend scares the guard backwards. The door to the cell swings open as Blake regards the guard with a sadistic grin.

BLAKE LUTHOR: I was invited here and I requested to be held in a cell to keep my focus instead of the luxury that they wanted to put me in. You wanna keep talking smack?

Blake steps outside of the cell and begins to walk towards the guard, who begins to back away rapidly.

GUARD: So sorry! So sorry! I not know!

Blake continues to walk toward the guard with an evil grin until the guard backs into a cell containing a prisoner from UOW.

A hand darts out from the cell, grabs the guard by the back of the shirt, and brings him back to slam against the bars to knock him out. Blake Luthor laughs at the sight of Valora Salinas trying to find some keys.

BLAKE LUTHOR: If he could have locked the door on me, you know he would have slammed that fucker shut and locked it.

VALORA SALINAS: Fucking shits aren’t trusted enough to keep keys on their belts?

Blake just shrugs with a laugh.

BLAKE LUTHOR: I know I wouldn’t, nail.

Blake heads back to his cell, closing the door behind him.

VALORA SALINAS: Who are you calling a nail, punta?

Blake raises a fist.

BLAKE LUTHOR: The mother fucking hammer is.

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