V - A Match with the Thief King (GONE WRONG) (GONE EVIL)

Previously on ‘Glitch’:

Macro tried to confront The Cubs by himself. Guess what, he is getting the beating of his life! Edward, seeing that he cannot do anything for his “friend”, saw no option: he accepted the deal from the Thief Queen and let her take over his body!

Storm clouds hover over Chicago as Thief King Edward steps into the fray! Will the promise be upheld and Macro will be saved? Or has Thief Queen tricked Edward just so that he could take over his body?

Let’s find out!

-| Glitch - |

“A boy’s body?” grumbled Thief King Edward as he faced his reflection in a puddle. The light from his purple eyes colored his image. He had the soul of Thief Queen controlling him. “What a drag,” sighed the man, disappointed. He snatched the Heart in a Vat from his pockets. “At least now I have a body to work with. I will study the heart, become me again and then get my revenge. This world will fall—”

He heard Edward’s boyish voice buzzing in his head like a bug. “What are you doing?” he asked, desperate. “You promised to rescue Macro!”

Thief King rolled his eyes as he walked away from the alley. The man spoke to himself, “Correction: my first wish will be to get toothpick out of my head.”

Macro’s screams echoed from the basketball court. They were loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear. The Cubs battered the punk, whose only desire was getting them out of his life for the sake of his younger brother.

Edward pleaded, “Please! I don’t care what you do next, just save him!”

The man stopped and faced his reflection in the Heart in a Vat. His eerie purple eyes shined more intensely than the thunder that roamed the cloudy skies of Chicago.

Edward insisted for him to save Macro, “You know that is the right thing to do.”

Thief King faltered. The painful feeling of being alone and betrayed was still a fresh wound in the soul of the Thief Queen, who controlled the man’s body. For her, Macro’s screams sounded louder than the storm. His despair was familiar. She knew well that there was no one else in the world who could help him.

“You know what?” Thief King resigned. “I haven’t made anyone go through unbelievable suffering in a while. This will be a good entertainment.”

The man turned around and entered the alleyway that led to the basketball court where Macro confronted the Cubs.

The bright purple glare from Thief King Edward lightened the darkness as he approached. Yet Brandon, his thugs and the women who watched them had no eyes for their new guest. They instead laughed at Macro, whose wounded body laid prone on the ground. His cheeks were swollen and blood dripped from his lips.

“E-Edward?” faltered Macro. He saw Thief King through the swellings on his face. “I-Is that him—”

Brandon sat onto the punk’s backs. His weight crushed the punk. “Don’t look there, Mark,” said the gangster as he kneaded Macro’s head and meddled with his wounds, “you might start moving and I might slip off your backs. You really don’t want me to get my new pants dirty—”

He heard dogs barking in despair. Brandon lifted his frown and saw an approaching Thief King. The leashed dogs from the Cubs recoiled and hid in fear as he passed. Eyes orbited around him like the planets orbited the Sun.

One of the two Cubs who served Brandon took a step ahead. “What do you want, dude?” asked the man as he yanked a knife from his pockets. “Can’t you see we’re busy?”

Thief King Edward smirked. “I see,” he said, yanking Brandon’s basketball from the ground. “I just came to say Hi.”

Brandon lifted his body off Macro. The gangster groaned:

“Give that ball back, man. It’s worth more than you—”

“Joshua W. Grey, the Wizard?” faltered Thief King as he read the precious autographs that covered the ball’s surface. “Didn’t he die in a drunk driving accident one year ago?”

“If you taint that, you’ll join him,” threatened Brandon.

Thief King gently bounced the basketball. “I don’t come with any wrong intentions,” he said, “I just want to play.”

The Cubs laughed. A scowl formed on Brandon’s face, yet he noticed that the two girls who watched the scene were amused.

“You wanna know what?” Asked the gangster, simpering. He glanced at a broken Macro. “One of our teammates just couldn’t hang. We’re missing one guy. Think you can hang, dude?”

“Absolutely,” replied Thief King with an arrogant smirk. “Can you?”

The Cubs chortled. Melina, Brandon’s girlfriend and one of the girls who spectated the scene, rose her voice:

“Hey, Brandog,” she narrowed her eyes at the man, “don’t get mad. Just play with him. He’s kinda cute.”

The man blinked at her. “Whatever you ask for, my Hershey’s,” replied Brandon as he snapped his fingers. “But I warn you that he isn’t gonna be cute for long. Things are about to get ugly.”

The Cubs surrounded Thief King, yet the purple-haired man nonchalantly bounced the basketball. He narrowed his eyes at Macro and smiled softly.

The punk faltered, aghast. “H-H-He’s doing this for me?”

Brandon took a step ahead. “Enough chit-chat. If you won’t give back my ball, we take it from you!” he said, pointing at the purple-eyed man. “Start the game!”

His two subordinates ran at Thief King.

The purple-eyed man simpered. He took a step ahead and slid beneath the arms of both subordinates from Brandon.

The Cubs recoiled at his speed. “W-Where did he go?” they asked.

“Behind you,” he replied with a smirk as consistent as the one from a statue.

Both gangsters turned around and Thief King heaved the ball against the head of one of them. His movement was so precise that the object ricocheted off one head to the other, knocking both men to the ground.

“You’re welcome for the tan,” remarked the purple-haired man as he yanked the basketball from the grime. He narrowed his eyes at Macro, who laid defenseless on the basketball court. “Now it is your chance,” whispered Thief King, “run.”

Brandon stomped the ground. He called all attention to himself. “Lucky move, creepy kid,” remarked the gangster as he equipped his steel knuckles. “But I don’t play fair!” he yelled as he ran at Thief King.

The purple-eyed man stood nonchalantly. He stepped back as Brandon jolted his fists at him. He dodged so fast that the gangster’s knuckles could not even feel the smell of his hair. Thief King’s reflexes were so agile that even a bullet would struggle to catch him, although he still bounced a basketball with the left hand. He stepped back with every dodge, distancing himself from the basketball court and approaching the road.

Thief King mocked his attacker, “getting tired already? I thought you could hang.”

“H-H-How are you doing this?” snapped Brandon, gasping. Sweat rained from his forehead, yet he was yet to land a single blow at his enemy. His chest burned with flank pain.

“I skip dessert and eat a lot of vegetables,” joked Thief King as he glanced at the gangster’s chest. “I think that would do you good.”

“&[email protected]%* you, man!” retorted Brandon as he rushed at his foe. Thief King smirked and heaved the ball against the gangster’s forehead, knocking him to the ground and stamping a red mark on his face.

The gangster contorted on the ground as he kneaded his wound. The basketball ricocheted off his face and rolled down the alleyway.

“My bad,” smirked Thief King as he glanced at the distancing ball. “It’s getting to the middle of the road. Let’s hope your gang has not made this neighborhood too scary for people to obey the speed limits.”

Brandon opened his eyes and saw his precious ball standing in the middle of the road. His heart tightened. He felt as if his world neared the edge of a cliff. “I-I’ll &%¨%$ murder you, ¨$&#%!” snorted the gangster as he lifted himself from the ground and rushed to take his ball off the street. His shirt moved as the man ran and revealed a fire weapon on his waist.

Edward spoke in Thief King’s head, “He has a gun! He’ll shoot us!”

“He’ll try,” replied the man, nonchalantly.

He put his hands in his pocket and turned his backs to the street. He walked back to the basketball court as Brandon yanked his treasured basketball from the middle of the road.

A malevolent grin formed between the gangster’s cheeks. He pulled the gun from his pants and aimed the crosshairs of his pistol at Thief King’s head. “Say hi to my granny for me, dude!” he spoke aloud.

Thief King grinned. He faced the gangster through the reticle of his gun. “She told me you should look left and right,” he replied.

“What—”

An SUV from Channel 8 slammed Brandon. His body flew over the vehicle, and his treasured basketball sprung off his hands. He collapsed on the cold pavement, agonizing. “A-A-Argh!” he bewailed in pain. He felt as if hammers had rained on his body.

The driver faced him from her rearview mirror. She was Carolina, the TV anchor Channel 8’s live news. Despair overtook her as she saw the blood tainting Brandon’s Cubs bandana. “C-Crap, crap, crap!” she sputtered as she turned on the car and sped away from his stirred body.

Edward watched the scene, disgusted. “No one deserves to die like this! Go help him!” he shouted in Thief King’s head.

“Why?” replied the man. He walked to the sidewalk with his eyes shining brighter than before. “It’s not over yet,” he said as time and space distorted around him.

“W-What do you mean?”

A truck’s horn echoed across the road. A transport vehicle as tall as a building sped down the street. Its giant wheels were enough to crush a car. The ground quaked as the truck approached.

The trucker spotted Brandon’s fallen body and stomped all brakes. Yet the vehicle struggled to deaccelerate. Its momentum was colossal.

The gangster could not see the trucker’s effort to save his life. All that Brandon saw in the car’s windshield was the eerie reflection from Thief King Edward staring into his soul. He saw the purple-eyed man laughing as he accelerated the truck to crush every limb in Brandon’s crippled body.

The man cried in terror as the truck neared. He anticipated the immense pain of losing his entire body before the vehicle’s colossal wheels finally put his brain out of his misery. He would die one limb at a time. “No! No! No! No!” screamed Brandon until he choked on his own blood. His eyes went blank.

Thief King chuckled at the man’s imminent demise.

“The more possible outcomes in a system, the greater the possibility that a Glitch will happen. In that case, no place homes more Glitches than the human mind,” he explained, narrowing his eyes at Brandon. “Your mind will now break and dwell on the past. You shall relieve this terror thirty-seven hundred times. The Fire of Mourgiana devours you, Brandon O’Neal.”

The truck finally braked as the rubber of one of its wheel touched the tip of Brandon’s foot. The trucker sighed in relief and praised his own reflexes for having saved someone’s life. The man stuck his head out the window. “Are you alright, son?” he asked Brandon.

The gangster did not react. Purple tears crept down his cheeks and were the only motion on his face. His heart still beat, yet none would say that there was life in him. He looked like a breathing doll more than a human being.

Edward faltered. “W-What did you do to him?” asked the boy. A crippled Brandon crying purple tears was a ghastly sight.

“Unbelievable suffering. The type that transforms even the most irreducible creature into something else” explained Thief King. “It’s a powerful Glitch called the Fire of Mourgiana. I’ve trapped his mind into an emotional loop that he cannot escape. He’ll re-live the same scene over and over again. The exact pain, despair, and fear that he felt at that moment shall last months. His mind will be damaged and even when he recovers, he shall never come back to being the same.”

“That is awful!”

“It is not. I can either use it to preserve the courage of my companions or to prolong the pain of my enemies. It is not my fault that all that I have left are enemies.”

“Wait, you mentioned a Glitch,” faltered Edward, “are you a Glitcher?”

“You can’t even imagine, toothpick,” remarked Thief King Edward as he yanked Brandon’s ball from the ground. He admired the collection of autographs on the object’s surface. “This shall be my treasure. I’ve always been a fan of The Wizard—”

He glanced at a puddle and noticed the bright reflection of the gold watch that the gangster had taken from Macro. The accessory had flown off Brandon’s pocket when the SUV ran over him.

“—and this shall be my treasure as well,” said the purple-eyed man as he put the jewel in a pocket.

Edward protested, “you’re kidding, right? Why would you want his watch—”

Fireworks exploded and dyed the skies into red. The color was a sign that one of the Cubs’ bases was under attack. “We gotta get out of here!” said Edward, still trapped in Thief King’s head. “They’re coming!”

Thief King chuckled. “You’ve seen it with your own eyes, toothpick. I have no reason to run away from anything,” he said, taking the Heart in a Vat out of his pocket. “I’m worse than every weapon that they have in their arsenal. My only concern now is for my reveng—”

His eyes darkened. The man’s body shrunk and he turned into the frail, weak Edward from before. Thief Queen became once again a voice in his head.

“Bloody hell!” She screamed. “This cannot be!”

Voices from members of the Cubs wandered around the neighborhood. “Spread out! He must be close,” they said.

Edward flinched. The voices grew louder and louder. “W-What do I do?” he asked Thief Queen.

“Isn’t that bloody obvious? You run, you dunce!”

Tables for the Table Gods:

Spoiler: Spoiler

Edward's Stat Cards:

Edward (Thief King Mode)'s Stat Card: