An explosion ripped through the brick wall of an old building. Fortunately, it was on the edge of town with no other buildings in its
immediate vicinity. A shape that had been thrown out of the building by the explosion slowly stood up and brushed himself off. The ring
on his hand glowed faintly and his body changed from the titanium alloy it had been to its normal fleshy state.
The man was tall and bulky with a chiseled, yet handsome face. He was wearing jeans with a white shirt and black vest left open. He
had a certain air about him that said "don't fuck with me" and the .44 magnum at his side certainly backed that up. His gruff beard and
mustache gave a somewhat Clint Eastwood appearance. He stared back at the gaping hole, charred bricks, and burning upholstery
inside the house and spoke.
"It's going to take a lot more than that to get rid of me," he said coldly.
The subject of this addressing stepped out of the hole as well. He was much older than the other man, around fifty or so. His graying
beard and bald head were almost laughable if it weren't for his evil-looking face. He held a rocket launcher still smoking from its recent
use. He wore casual business clothes and black sunglasses.
"Ring wielders use their powers to hurt one another," he stated, "But I find this loophole quite nice."
"I wonder," the younger man asked, "If your assistant felt the same way?"
"Irrelevant. I will finish you off one way or another and he will have served his purpose."
"Nice guy," the man scoffed and slowly drew the previously concealed gun, "But you know..."
He quickly aimed and fired before the older man saw the gun. The hole in his forehead splattered blood all over the rocket launcher as
the man fell to his knees. The younger man walked over to the dead corpse and took off his ring.
"...Nice guys finish last."
He then put on the new ring which adjusted to his finger. It also glowed and the rocket launcher turned back into the rat-like man who
had been helping the wearer's deceased foe.
"Look, mister, I'm real sorry!" he stumbled, "He threatened to turn me into a pooper-scooper if I didn't help him."
"Well you weren't exactly saying no to all the money you were getting."
"Please Mr..."
"Judge, Brett Judge."
"Mr. Judge, please I'll do anything!"
"Alright then, get in the car."
"What car?"
Sirens wailed as the police showed up. The police chief's car pulled up and an imposing black man stepped out. Chief Murdock had
been a bar bouncer before joining the force and had kept up his physique for catching criminals. With raised weapon and handcuffs, he
read the man his rights and put him in the back of the cop car.
"You really saved our asses here, Brett," he said when he walked back over. His voice was surprisingly gentle for the mountain of a
man. But those who knew him knew that he was kind and compassionate. At least to law-abiding citizens.
"No problem," Brett answered, "You guys have saved my ass plenty of times, 'bout time I returned the favor."
"So he had one of the rings?" Murdock spoke much quieter. It wouldn't do for others to hear about this.
"Yep, used it to make all of his weapons. Wish I had known that before I destroyed half of them."
"Can't be helped now," the Chief sighed, "The important thing is that Yates doesn't have the ring anymore."
"Yeah, you might want to have some of your boys clean him off the sidewalk. He's not exactly in the nicest condition."
"So that's three rings we know of: you have the Mod Ring, I have the Mental Ring, and you just got Yates's Inanimate Ring. That leaves
four unaccounted for."
"From what I gather, the other rings can't be too far away. When their previous owner died, they all teleported to new owners. But the
rings seem to tend to stick together. I wouldn't suspect them to be too far outside the city, or at least the county."
"You know, Brett, if a man had that much power, why didn't he do anything with it?"
"Because he knew what these things were capable of. And some people are better than Yates here who let power get to his head."
"Good thing, too, or we might be bowing down to some tyrant right now."
____________________________________________________________________________________________________
"Hey, Brett," a man called from the couch, "Will you grab me a beer while you're in there?"
"You have two legs that aren't broken," he quipped.
"Yeah, but the game's on!"
Brett walked back into the living room with two beers. He handed one to the guy on the couch and opened the other for himself. The
man sitting on the couch was actually his younger brother, Ethan. They looked a lot alike, but Ethan kept his face clean shaved and he
was much more lighthearted.
"So how much longer are you going to be pussy-whipped into coming here to watch the game?"
"I'm not pussy-whipped!"
"She told you you couldn't watch the game on your own TV because she doesn't like baseball. You haven't even been together a whole
year. She comes into the house you own and tells you what you get to watch on the TV you paid for. She doesn't do anything in return,
and she has you buying all this shit for the house that you know you hate. Ergo: you're pussy-whipped."
"That's not all true," Ethan defended himself, "She does do stuff for me. I'm getting laid. Now who's laughing Mr. Solo?"
"How often?" Brett asked, ignoring the insult.
"Enough," he said hesitantly.
"Face it, you're pussy-whipped."
"Well if you're so sure you'd be in charge, why don't you have a girlfriend?"
"Because I put my life on the line every day. If I got myself killed, you'd have to deal with a crying ex-girlfriend."
"Why me?"
"Because the only other person at my funeral would be Murdock. And he doesn't exactly have a pillow-soft shoulder to
cry on."
"This is true," Ethan said, giving up on the subject. "So what's with the rings? I thought the first one was ugly enough, so you go out and
get another. And I saw you got Murdock in on the anti-fashion. What's going on?"
"It'd be way too complicated."
"I have time."
"Well I don't."
The two sat and stared at each other for a long while before Ethan remarked, "Oh yeah, busy as a bee."
"Drop it, Ethan, if I need to tell you I will. But you don't need to know and I don't want to tell you."
"Alright, alright," he said, knowing he wouldn't get anywhere. "Aw, I missed the end of the game!"
"Yankees won 7-4."
"Damn, I hate the Yankees. Now Jack at work will be rubbing it in my face," he complained as he stood up and got his coat. "Well, I
have to be at work early tomorrow, so I better get going. See ya, Brett."
"Goodbye Ethan."
____________________________________________________________________________________________________
"We just got a report," Murdock said as he opened the door, "Lady says the raccoon who had been in her crawl space turned into a
man when it got into the woods. You thinking what I'm thinking?"
"Homeless guy got the Animal Ring?" Brett suggested.
"Probably, I'm gonna go check it out."
"I'll come too."