*BANG*

*THWACK*

*THUD*

*CRACK*

The sounds of flesh hitting wood resounded around the dojo. One boy who looked to be in his late teens was kicking, punching, kneeing and elbowing a rather beat up wooden dummy.

Yes, that boy was me.

Hi, my name is Chase, a rather simple name for a rather simple 17 year old.

But, that's how I like it. And if your wondering why I do not have or am not mentioning my last name, that is because I do not deserve it. My last name which was 'Mod' was Swedish for courage, something I didn't have during....... That time.

Now onto the more important stuff, like my wonderful image, I have a full head of spiky and unkempt blonde hair, no doubt a trait from my Swedish heritage. And a rather Asian looking face which, coupled with the hair, makes me look pretty damn weird. Sometimes when I look in the mirror I cringe at myself.

I guess was pretty handsome in Asian terms, but since I lived in the land of freedom, America. People looked at me with disdain and amusement. Well, apart from my weird face I have a rather toned and muscular body which I received from my martial arts. But my muscles don't really bulge that much so you can't see it under clothes.

Which sucks for me, because I didn't want to be one of those tank top wearing weirdos that like to show off their pecks. I mean, those guys are practically male strippers, walking around, bouncing their steroid infused muscles.

Well, now that we are done with the introductions, I will explain what I am currently doing.

Well, in simple terms I was beating the metaphorical shit out of a wooden dummy. Turn kick, back kick, tornado kick, long spin kick (aka roundhouse kick), intwined with elbow strikes that use the momentum of my kicks, jabs, knee strikes and a variety of punches, back handed punches and knuckle strikes, I even mixed a few head-butts in there. If you think it is a strange thing to head-butt a wooden structure, don't worry, my grandfather said that I have a pretty darn thick skull.

On the topic of my grandfather, I was currently living with him as he was the last family I had left after the... Incident. He was from my Japanese side of the family and was one of the rare and few grandmasters in the art of hand to hand combat. He was 9th dan in taekwondo, a certified master in Muay Thai kickboxing, a black belt something or rather in karate, a master of judo and a master of the ninjutsu stealth and assassination arts.

He also had a few other martial arts up his belt but those were his favourites, and because of that he has been teaching them to me ever since I was 5. I myself was now a 8th dan taekwondo practitioner, and was a master in Muay Thai kickboxing, a black belt in karate, a master of judo and I was pretty darn good at ninjutsu, the ones that didn't use weapons, that is. However I still wasn't at the level of my grandfather.

Now you may be wondering...

'Why all the unarmed combat arts? Why not a few that use actual weapons?'

The answer is simple, I really really really REALLY! Hate weapons. Wether it's just a stick or a gun, I refuse to use them. Ever since an incident I had when I was much younger which caused me and my grandfather to become the last of our line, I vowed to myself to never use weapons.

I vowed that I would reach the pinnacle of strength using my own fists, I would never use a detestable weapon, never for the rest if my life or the ones that might follow.

My ultimate goal is to become so strong that weapons will just slow me down, however. Having this dream in the 22nd century, when technology and laws are as extensive as ever, sounds silly.

Which is why all I can do is train, and train, and train, and tr-well I think you get the idea. But if there was one thing that exited me at the moment. The new virtual reality game that was coming out, it boasted a full 99% realism rate. Something that had never been done ever before. It was called 'new life online', a kinda disappointing name. I would have called it something like 'EXTREME DEATH SIMULATOR ULTIMATE DOOM EDITION', but I guess that wouldn't really sell...

But, alas I could only dream, me and my grandfather were actually quite poor. We could never afford such an expensive game, even if we worked ourselves to death.

"Hey, Chase! Get your skinny ass down here and cut our firewood!"

Oh speak of the devil! That masculine voice was non-other than my grandfather, he sounds pretty mean, but I think that's his way of showing love.

I walk over to the loud voice and arrive in our messy yard, full of broken wooden dummies yet to be repaired. Then I see my grandfather standing over a huge axe, which had what looked like weights in the end. Behind him was a huge pile of wood.

I visibly paled after seeing this, then I quickly recovered and hoped to God that my grandfather didn't see it. But he did, and a huge sadistic smile appeared on his scarred face.

My grandfather was a mountain of a man, he was the definition of macho man with muscles bulging all over his body that had been scarred after its many battles. His grey hair went down just past his shoulders and his magnificent beard reached his stomach, Gandalf style. Yeah, they remade those old movies recently.

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He said to me in his usual gruff voice.

"I want you too cut all this wood before dinner, I also graciously added about 12kg of weight at the end of the axe to raise your shoulder strength. Good luck, you'll need it..."

Then he walked over to the door of our dojo residence, but before he entered he turned around a said to me in a serious voice.

"That axe is a tool, not a weapon. A weapon is a tool used to cause injury. Okay?"

"Yeah, I know gramps."

Then he turned and walked back inside, no doubt to watch his favourite MMA fighting shows.

I walked over to the axe, and then gripped it. Once I touched it a lot of bad memories surfaced but I cast them away, and with some difficulty, lifted the axe and brought it down on the block of wood.

*A few days later

After a few days of training, it was time for school to start up again. I hated school, people looked at me like I was a freak. I'm not a freak, I'm Asian. There is a slight difference you know.

I walked to the school gates and with a huge sigh, practically leaking with depression. I walked into the horrible cess pool of shit that we humans call school.

I reached my first class and sat down in a seat near the back, then I patiently waited for the class to start. My senses tingled, honed from tortuous training, they told me that something was headed my way.

I raised a hand a caught the object without even looking, then I turned and saw a few shocked faces that I managed such a feat. I looked at the direction of the people who threw the scrunched up piece of paper, it was your stereotypical group of high school guys who managed to get popular at the cost of others suffering.

I then threw the paper from the back of the class room where I was sitting and into the tiny wash bin at the front, which was at least 8m in front of me. A few people even applauded, but I wasn't happy.

Because I degraded the popular guys I was going to hear some horrifying rumours about me over the next few days. Oh well, I'll just have to deal with it, I'll live.

************

The rest of the day was fairly uneventful. I attended classes and did some boring work, I wasn't that smart. At most only a B- student.

Then an event which changed my life and fate forever happened.

I was walking out if the school gates and across the street when I heard loud screaming and an engine. I looked across and saw a van with the driver unconscious, slumped over the dashboard.

The van then swerved to the left, away from the side of the street that I was on, and onto the walkway. Then I saw her.

Her name was Amelia Heart, she was our schools número uno beauty. With her sleek long black hair and deep sky blue eyes, Along with an impressive figure, she was beautiful. She had also refused every boy that had ever come across her. She was pure and untainted. Which made her even more attractive.

And she was right in the path of the truck, it looked like she would be a red paste over the grill of the van in moments. My instinct kicked in and before I knew it I was sprinting towards her.

I reached her just before the van and pushed her out of the way, but I had run out of time. I turned my head and saw red. Then all I saw was darkness...

*Flashback

The boy and his whole family was having a get together, he was having lost of fun playing with the other children. Then as everyone gathered in the largest room to finish the celebrations a loud crash resounded through the mansion.

Armed men with big scary guns and knives leaped into the room. And then a slaughter ensued.

They shot, sliced and stabbed their way through the people and reached the boy's family, one raised their gun and fired a round into the boys chest, the boy fell backwards.

His parents screamed and threw themselves in front of the boy, then the boy watched in pain and horror as his mother was riddled with bullets, and his father was repeatedly stabbed until they finished him off with a hammer to the skull. His parents mangled bodies fell on top of him, in one last effort to protect him.

"Play... Dead.....son..."

The boy then repressed the urge to scream and followed his fathers last request, failing to stop the tears from flowing. Hating himself for not having courage...

*End of flashback

After I woke up from that particularly horrible memory I was greeted by a surprise, in front of my ethereal body one message glowed in the darkness.

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