Temple of the Jormon
Racing in through the entrance of Kultur's pagoda, Dick, Alfonso, and Kit didn't stop until their analogous end of the road came in the form of a balcony. Large spotlights blasted onto them and they were welcomed with a reception of Taiko drummers from an unseen distant darkness.
The pagoda was very old and wooden, pieced together masterfully and in stylized and complicated designwork. It ran deep and wide. You could construct whatever you could afford, in theory, and Kultur could afford a whole lot.
?Welcome to the Lair of the Jormon, friends,? the man seated in the center of the dojo floor said. One spotlight from overhead was given to him while the others shone on the balcony. But the maestro in the rafters did direct his great play and turn off all of the introductory lights in favor of a show-starting illumination of the stage on a very dim setting. It complimented the woodwork.
Dick, Al, and Kit descended the connecting staircases to the base of the level and stance apart in prime cinematic shot. Blondie, Tuco and Angel Eyes in a dehydrated desert, only in this case the mat perimeters of a karate school floor.
?So you will be the first challenge,? Declan assumed. The Indian-styled man in the center of the dojo did not respond except to perk an inquisitive eyebrow. His eyes remained closed, and his ignorance of them served only to intrigue DonEvans.
?You must think I am evil...but you do not know my story. I do not guard this pagoda out of want ? I guard it out of necessity. You come to shut us down, you say, for no more understanding than 'we are evil.' Well, I am here to tell you that is why I must stand in your way to Kultur ? because you insist on looking at our scandalous reputation, and none of the countless other factors that have made this pagoda as strong as it is.? the man seated on the floor, wearing a headwrap composed entirely of bandages, removed his hand from his aikidogi and placed it upon his knee, but not without startling his three visitors.
?We're long past talking,? Kit said to the seated martial artist, and he opened his eyes upon them for the first time; cold, unafraid eyes. Beside Kit, Alfonso had taken the initiative and was coolly walking toward the man whose room this was named after.
?You're talking real big.? Alfonso was purposefully noisily and not without form. He flipped out a combat knife from under his shirt where his hand was pocketed; pocketed, no longer.
?I'll try to do your build-up justice.?
?Hold it!? the martial artist produced a gunshot of a cease and desist palm. It was because he was so prepared for a fight that Al, Dick and Kit even flinched at all. Fair enough, though, the man had bought their attention and a word.
?You want there to be bloodshed and screams and broken bones, and you shall have it. But FIRST, listen to what I have to say,?he pleaded for what seemed like understanding.
Alfonso clenched his teeth; a low growl easily picked up by the spacious dojo.
?What the hell??
Kit had his fists raised to go to work with, but he lowered them in favor of a cautious breath. When Alfonso looked at him, he looked right back just as curious. The martial artist beckoned them to his mat before him with his hand showcasing the space. It was a moment, but the three took some steps and sat down in identical Indian-style. It was then that the martial artist returned his eyes to a serene close, and he began to speak.
?I was not always a watcher of this entrance forever cast in eternal night. I was not always known as Jormon, the name ? if a name had to be given ? to the man who stopped other men intending to stop Kultur for the good of their families, usually by breaking their necks. And my friends... I have broken many necks ahead of you that have stepped onto my mat. But even an evil man can grow tired of all the murder.
?Yes, we do despicable evil here. I won't deny that. But that evil is as cemented in the economy here as anything else. If we were to be stopped, that would have needed to happen a long time ago ? before we became as established as we have become. Removing us would do nothing but harm now; that I want to be most clear on. You might say you can rebuild, but there is not another machine part that comes close to matching what we have become for the engine of the people. Remove us, and that engine stops working.
?I am your opponent because Kultur believes it to be an act of mercy for any uneducated opposition that might come to our doorstep with their torches. He considers himself merciful because you are only uneducated on the good that we bring, despite our report. Your intentions are noble, and as such you are deserving of a lesser punishment than otherwise provided from the hands of the syndicate themselves.
?Their degree of bloodshed is different than my own. If you are lucky, you will never know death from their hands. But unfortunately you must still know death. I am the merciful ax of the syndicate. But you can still depart from this place by returning the way you came. For what you value my word, I can promise that it will be over with the door closing behind you, and you will not have to look over your shoulders for the rest of your lives. Do it not, and this school floor will be the final stage of your lives. And if you manage to get past me, then you are in for the long haul.
?So you have received my terms. Make your choice.?
Dick, Alfonso, and Kit all looked between one another.
