Chapter 12

The whole Hell's Angels team were lined up horizontally and facing Black Death. The leaders, Tobias and Greth, stood in front of their clan. They were all on the field carpeted be honey, golden grasses spread across many kilometers away. The park's parking lot was empty and behind the Black Death team was the fir tree forest. The night was dark and stinging cold as the wind began to blow harder. Rain clouds were nearing over their heads. The bikers removed their leather jackets and other accessories that would get in the way of the swinging punches. Most wore tank tops and baggy, jean pants. The young teens cracked their knuckles and flexed the fingers.

"No weapons, just fists."Tobias said and got ready to attack. Greth nodded in an uncertain way that made some of the Hell's Angels team wonder.

"No weapons. . ." Greth repeated. The twenty fighters of each team quieted down. The whistling wind, that blew on them, was the only sound. The first flash of lightening signaled the enemies to charge. Each fighter got an opposition. Fists, kicks, blood and sweat came flying in the air. Neither party seemed to have the lead for a long time. Valgarv side kicked his opponent, who was the same size as he was. He toppled on the ground. The turquoise haired biker pulled the biker up by his tight tank top and clobbered his stomach dozens of time before he broke his nose. The Angels of Hell were rising above to victory. Valgarv's other teammates were defeating their offense side or getting the upper hand. One by one, Black Death was falling to the yellow, thick grass. Greth missed Tobias' face with his spin kick. The Hell's Angel boss grasped Greth's leg and whipped him to the ground and kicked his ribs.

"Did you really think you could beat a bunch of bastards like us?!" Tobias booted his enemy again and enjoyed hearing Black Death's captain in pain. "You've got one screwed head, man!" Greth slowly crawled onto his hands and knees. Tobias let the leader rise. He was bewildered and a little unnerved when he saw Greth smiling wickedly with blood running from his lips.

"No . . . You think you've got it all under your hands, don't you?" Black Death's bossed cackled.

"You think you've won!?" His heinous laugh boomed louder and the bikers halted their next move. Presently, before all the gaze of the fighting young men, Greth drawed out a curved knife and injected the dagger into Tobias' chest. Lightening struck in the air. Tobias' last vision was the look of satisfaction on Greth's face. "You lose. . ." Valgarv stared blankly at what had just happened. His body paralyzed as he watched his leader lifelessly collapse like a rag doll.

"NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!" The draft gusted bitterly, bringing the storm closer to the city. The fight was not yet over.

"Aitsura ou korose (Kill them)!!" Greth ordered as soon as he was done with Tobias. The remaining twelve Black Death members pulled out knives and chains from their backs and pockets. In seconds they've already killed four of Hell's Angels or were being chocked to death. Valgarv assailed straight on with three new opponents who held two chain carriers and one with two knives. The two chains were whipped onto his wrists as it twirled around them. The chain holders attempted to stretch Valgarv's arm out, which he resisted and pulled on the chains. A biker with a knife ran forth to strike. On the last moment, the turquoise haired biker changed his position and moved to his left, pulling the chain and the holder along. The dagger was gouged into his muscular arm, near his shoulder. The smaller, pocket dagger attempted to dig into his chest, but it made contact with the locket, hidden inside his shirt. He lifted his knees and kneed the stabber in the stomach, then crescent kicked the head. One down, two more to go. The tearing pain of his flesh arrayed his shoulder and right arm. Blood was beginning to trail out around the knife and dripped down the limb. Trying to ignore the wound, he yanked the chain wrapped on his left side and sent the biker onto the ground. Valgarv took the chance to pull out the knife in his arm and fling the scalpel at his chain biker to his right. The dirk struck perfectly on the enemy's front hand, through his palm and let go of the chain. The young Angel of Hell team member was able to remove the chain off, which left an awful red mark not only on his wrist. He one of the few remainders of his group. At the corner of his golden eyes, he caught Greth holding a gun in his hand, raised up in front of him, ready to shoot. He fired a bullet at two of his closest gang member . . . Matt and Gonza. Valgarv was the only one without a fighting partner, the other Black Death's were far away, involved in the shooting. His breathing deepened and clutched his gash. He saw he couldn't do anything, as long as the leader had a gun. He would be killed to, if he tried to help. By the time he started to make a get away, Greth was done with the last five Angels of Hell, who managed no to be defeated by knife and chain possessors. Greth angled his target carefully so the shell would eject at the last Angel's back. When he pulled the trigger, though, nothing darted out. The boss clicked the gun's trigger a couple more times.

"Shit . . ."

"Should we go after him?" One of the Black Death teammate asked, but Greth shook his head and replaced his gun inside his leather jacket pocket.

"Let him go. . . We'll kill him another time."

The rain poured heavily down the city as Valgarv continued to run top speed, even though he was already more than far from Black Death's reach. He bolted straight down the gloomy, empty street lit by lamp posts, past closed stores and on and on without looking back. Until he felt the burning feeling of pain in his entire body, like he was about to explode, he gradually slowed his pace. The biker staggered inside a spacious alley where it was dry. Tightened fists were petulantly pounded against the cracked brick wall. The relieving punches proceeded, but when his knuckles, palm and stabbed, shoulder began to extort agonizingly, he fell onto the wall and pressed his forehead on the cold stone. Valgarv heavily gasped for air. His hand quivered as he delved into the wet tank top to pull out the rectangular locket jewelry that had a scratch from where the blade struck. He gripped the possession and closed his eyes. Droplets of water and red liquid ran down his face. Just like his family. . . Six years ago. . . He was alone . . . the last of his kind to vanish . . . The world he stood on fell apart on the day his family tragically died. Hell's Angels welcomed him in when he proved to be a good use and the gang became his best friends . . . almost a family. They were gone too. . . All of them. It was like fate forbid anyone to come close to him and help his sorrow clear away. He hated his life, everyone and everything else, especially fate. If this was the way his life was going to be, he might as well stayed behind at the brawl and let Black Death finish him. Better now than to continue on with suffering. He wished he had a gun or blade with him right now so he could end his meaningless life.

'God damn it!! Why was I even born?!' He thought petulantly and banged his fist on the wall one last time. 'Why are some people blessed with fortunate things and they complain of having a tough life. No one will understand me or know . . . what it's like to be the one left behind . . .' The soaking face covered the tears Valgarv's eyes unleashed. His legs wobbled as the whole body lapsed to the cement floor and passed out in the cold alley. The yellow blurry eyes saw only a dark figure rushing toward him, calling his name over and over before they closed to an immanent sleep.

"Come on Zelgadis-san! PLEAAAAAAAAAASE!?" Amelia and Zelgadis were on the phone talking for hours. The rich Wil Telsa Sillune was trying to convince her new boyfriend to join the band for the talent show, just around the corner. Amelia heard him play a certain electric guitar in 'HMV' that day after school and she was blown away. '

If Zelgadis joined the band, I'm sure we'll have the sound we've been missing!' Amelia told herself, imagining the whole band going first place with flying colours, because Zelgadis was just what they've been looking for.

"Errrrr. . . ." Graywords wasn't that enthusiastic or sure with the idea as Amelia. "I don't know Amelia . . . I'm not scared of performing in front of audiences . . . or . . . anything . . . I don't know if I'll have the time to learn the song and . . ."

"Don't worry Zelgadis! The song is very easy to learn. I know you'll be able to play it in a jiffy!"

" . . . . . ."

"Zelgadis . . . ?"

"Amelia . . . I, I'm sorry, but I can't join the band. . ."

"Eh? Doushite (Why)?"

"I have to go . . . I'll see you later . . ." Zelgadis mumble soflty and hung up. Amelia was confused and felt very sad that her boyfriend wouldn't take part in the band, but mostly because she didn't know what he was feeling.

"Maybe it was something I said . . ." She said to herself and pressed the 'OFF' button on the cordless phone. The doorbell rang and vibrated throughout the whole seven floor mansion. She waited until one of her butler got the door. Lina, Filia and Aya were sleeping over at her place for a night, but when Amelia began to chat with Zelgadis for an extremely long time, she decided to take a late night walk. Lina and Filia explored the mansion together to see if they could find anything amusing. It's been two hours and they still had four more floors to detour "Aya must be back from her walk. I hope she was alright. The storm looks really bad." The rich girl glanced out the window to the heavily raining bluster. Twenty minutes later, she heard slow, poignant steps coming up the stairs and down the hallway. When Amelia stepped out of her bedroom to see who it was, her eyes grew large in surprise and shouted in worry.

"KYAAA!! Oh my gosh!!! Aya!! What happened!?" The blue haired girl, still in her dripping raincoat, stood in the middle of the hallway, straining to drag the fallen biker behind her back. Shortly, Aya tripped on her untied shoelace and fell face first on the carpet floor, with a young man around one hundred thirty pounds on her back. Amelia hurriedly went to aid her friend and rolled Valgarv off of Aya. "Daijobudesuka (Are you alright)?!"

"I'm fine . . . but Valgarv's hurt really bad . . ." Aya said tiredly.

"Don't worry, I'll get my servants to take care of him." And she called the house servants to take the new visitor away to get bandaged.