To those who cross me or my own, torture is fierce

[The Great Ali]

“The Great Ali commands the pitiful waste to do as it is instructed!” shouted a poorly dressed henchmen with a big grin above his dark goatee. The strands of black hair that peaked from under his faded white turban blew away from the high powered heaters lined up in a pile behind the individual who was screamed at.

“Yes! And nobody defies the Great Ali. Nobody alive, nobody dead, absolutely nobody!” a second henchmen added. This man, a tad bit taller and a lot thinner, had on a grey vest and the same shaded turban as his partner in crime.

They both had durable kendo-sticks in their right hands that they had been using for hours to brutally strike the man ahead of them with.

A line of blood dripped down the mans mouth as he opened it to speak. Words betrayed him and he groaned in agony. Finally, he put aside the intense pain his body had felt and uttered the word “…no.” His head then dropped down, sending blood to the floor with a unnoticeable splash.

The two henchmen’s huge grins disappeared and two mean spirited glares emerged. Just as disappointed as angered, the henchman to the right, the bigger yet shorter one, decided to give the boy one last opportunity to do as he was told.

He placed his kendo-stick’s pointy end under the mans chin and raised his head once more. The henchmen leaned forward and looked directly into the mans indignant eyes. His arms were tied together by a rope hung to the ceiling and his legs were strapped down with ropes on the floor. He had no way of defending himself, but yet he continued to deny the Great Ali’s meager request.

“The Great Ali commands that the pitiful waste do as it is instructed!” screamed the fat henchmen, sending small fragments of spit and chewed up apple into the mans face.

Sweat ran down the mans face and bare chest. The heaters behind him had left a blistering burn on his back and made the room as close a thing to hell as you could find on this planet. Despite that and the bruises and cuts on his arms, chest and stomach, he nodded his head no.

The boy became more visible at that angle. His black hair, drenched with sweat. His green eyes and wide chin. Not many would recognize him. In fact, only two people watching would. The Great Mufasa and his sister Electra.

James. The ex-boyfriend who made the unwise decision to place a violent hand on an associate of The Great Ali.

The thin henchman sighed with frustration and glanced over his shoulder. Behind the young, loyal henchman was a throne nearly eight feet away. In it, in the grandest of white turbans and the shiniest of green pants, sat the Great Ali. His cold eyes were locked on the man tied up ahead of him. Emotionless, he examined the situation, the defiance, and his sagging frown seemed to deep even lower.

“The Great Ali commands that you beat this FOOL until he notices the glory before him in a more proper and suitable manner!”

As the last syllable left the Great Ali’s mouth, the two henchmen threw their kendo-sticks back and swung them at the tied up man with full force. You would not have knew this, had it not been for the shadows against the wall revealing it to you. Or the screams of agony and grunts of ill-used energy hadn’t found your ears. What you did see was the Great Ali watching on with a gleam in his eye and a slight smirk on his face.

“Okay! Okay! Stop please, I’ll do it! Just please stop!” the man cried, unable to take anymore punishment.

“Halt!” the Great Ali commanded.

The henchmen held down their weapons and backed away a step. James looked at the floor and the puddle of blood and sweat he had birthed below him. When his breathing slowed, he lifted his head and forced himself to make eye contact with the Great Ali.

“I…” he started.

The Great Ali frowned. The sudden pause did NOT go over well with him.

“Speak up, filth!” he demanded with a roar.

“I… bow before you,…sir and declare… that I hail the Great Ali.” as if murdering the sentence dropped him into unheard of levels of exhaustion, his head again dipped and it appeared that his body was now upright only because of the rope.

A few seconds passed with only the vibration of the energy draining heaters breaking the silence.

With a simple nod of his head, the Great Ali had directed the fat henchman inaudibly. The man snapped James across the back with the kendo-stick again and shouted into his ear “finish it!”

After a scream from the kendo-stick shot, James took a second to refocus and then looked up, into the Great Ali’s royal eyes again.

“All… hail… the Great… Ali.”

The boy collapsed forward again. This time, he had managed to put a grin on the Great Ali’s face.

“Fantastic!” declared the Great Ali, as he stood in front of his throne and grinned. His two henchmen laughed and walked away from the burnt, humiliated and tortured man. The Great Ali took slow steps toward the heat, the scars all over his body casting shadows across his flesh. As he stepped pass his two henchmen, they turned and marched behind him like the loyal goons they were.

“The Great Ali is now certain that you now understand the errors of your ways, peasant. For the woman you struck, was not just any useless winch. She belonged to a exclusive group of intelligent, brave men and women who have bowed their loyalty to me.” calmly said, with a smile, as he made his way to the spot in front of James.

“American.” he laughed.

“This isn’t the first time an American ignorantly, foolishly decided to step on the toes of those greater than them.” his henchmen joined in with the laugh.

“Princess Electra and me haven’t… seen eye to eye, as of late. Some of her decisions, the Great Ali did not agree with. She, assured, has not agreed completely with all of the Great Ali’s ideas and tactics. Such as this one. But regardless, the Great Ali refuses to let there be any distractions persist as the biggest night of my young pupil’s career edges ever so close.”

The Great Ali lied. True, he did want Electra’s and, of course, the Great Mufasa’s mind clear of this insect so that they may focus on the match at Season’s Beatings. False, was the claim that that was the only reason this torture had taken place. Electra was just as responsible.

When the Great Ali first returned to the horrible United States of America, he had a low opinion on Electra because of her failures to make all who dare challenged the Great Mufasa, recognize his greatness for the truly frightening and dominating thing that it was. But over the last few weeks, he had found respect for her daring and ruthless tactics. Her spy work and cleverness. In her, more so than the Great Mufasa, whose greatness came in a physical form, he saw pieces of himself. He saw that willingness to go to any lengths to ensure glory. Through that revelation, he found respect.

For days, he thought over ways to put aside the … misunderstandings that had made them both bitter of one another lately. He found it in the form of a letter one of his stationed henchman handed him. A letter that told of the rumor of Electra’s ex-boyfriend and his ill actions against her. Revenge would mend him and Electra’s working relationship. Revenge would set Indian Greatness on the right path again.

“You’ll remain here until after Season’s Beatings. These two men will stay with you. If you decide to defy the Great Ali’s commands once more, you will receive more… seasonal beatings, and the heaters will come back on.” he said as he stepped over and unplugged the heat.

“The Great Ali is positive that will not be the case, however. Something tells me that you have… learned your lesson.” he stopped in front of James again. This time, he arched his knees and made their heads level.

“But I wonder…”

Ali merely had to look up at the thin, tall henchman to have him take a hand full of James’ hair and pull his face up.

“At Season’s Beatings… who are you rooting for? Is it… Indian Greatness, the team made up of me, the greatest wrestler of all time, my pupil, the Great Mufuasa, the most dangerous force the ISW has ever seen. Lead, of course, by your biggest lost opportunity, Electra King. Is that your pick, insect? Or is it the members of the match that are more of your… kind.” he paused, a look of disgust on his face.

“Those nasty… disgusting Nameths. Whose name tell you all that you need to know about. Or those nobodies, Chaos Realm. Two parasites that have no shot at defeating yours truly by himself, much less along side the only true monster of the IWS. Or is it the team of losers, Raven Trueblood and Sylvester Ramone? Speak up, insect. Tell your master your pick.”

James looked into the Great Ali’s eyes for a few seconds, blood dripping from his mouth.

“I… hope that the Nasty Nameths kick your ass…” a grim frown formed on Ali’s face.

“much as I did your ‘precious’ Princess.” he finished.

The Great Ali looked at James as if, had he a knife, he was mere seconds from shoving it up his chest. Extreme hate, mixed with surprise. Slowly, he turned his neck to crack it.

Crack, left.

Crack, right.

Then, he rose up to full height. His right hand curled into a fist and he concealed it with his left. And just as you would suspect he was about to throw a punch, he grinned.

And laughed.

For a full minute the Great Ali laughed. He laughed until his tensed henchmen nervously joined in.

“Stupid henchmen, do you hear this? Your sticks have beaten what brain cells this worm had left out of him! The Great Ali thought, when you first dragged him into his home, that he looked very stupid, now the Great Ali knows it to be true!” Ali shouted between a laugh.

He laughed and laughed and laughed and then, suddenly, pulled his right arm back and threw it down toward James’ face. A sinister slap across the face that seemed to blow the henchmen’s grins away.

Ali looked down at the boy, whose head was once more hanging down. After a few seconds, he turned and began to walk away. But as he did, he had something more to say.

“Continue.”

The camera cut with the pain filled screams of James, the cracking of kendo-sticks, and the slow laugh of the Great Ali.