Day One: Early Morning

[Minoshia]

Bottom of the ninth, two men on and two men out- the pitcher enters the stretch, a mask of determination covering his face as he stares down the plate. Minoshia steps in, facing a full count, this next pitch could very well decide the season…

Minoshia tossed an acorn into the air, lifting the wooden slugger to his shoulder as his small brown target defied gravity. The woodland delicacy stopped momentarily at the top of its trajectory, time allowed itself to stand still for an instant to let the drama set it. The dense nut began its descent like a damaged asteroid, spiraling out of control towards the surface. Keeping his eyes forever locked on his target, the Konat stepped into his swing. His hips rotated in symphonic harmony with his shoulders, sending the Louisville baseball bat into rapid motion. Colliding with a firm cracking noise, the acorn abruptly changed direction and leapt off the end of the bat. The tiny projectile set off on course towards the horizon, a miniscule space craft being launched towards the moon. It all happened in poetic chaos, just the way he liked it.

Momentarily pleased with himself, the Konat slipped the standard issue bag off his shoulder and pushed the baseball bat back into the sack. The devastating melee weapon was too large for the satchel; a good portion of the wooden tool erected from the borders of the pack and exposed itself to the moonlight. He had experienced this tournament enough to know how exhausting it could be, and figured it would be in his best interest to relax while he could. Minoshia slowly lowered himself to the ground, letting his legs unfold in front of him. Even while he relaxed, thoughts of imminent violence crossed his mind – it had been so long since he had drawn the blood of a foe, it had been too long. Next time I swing that bat, someone’s skull will be on the receiving end. Images flashed through his head like a slideshow of pleasure; images of Android 17 and other adversaries having their faces rearranged with one swift swing of his fiendish little friend.

As his thoughts wandered to murder, his eyes journeyed as well. Dancing across the night sky with relative randomness, Minoshia eventually found himself locked onto a single sight. Even a battle hardened warrior like himself could find himself lost in the gazing stare of the moon, its massive craters creating mysterious eyes. Minoshia found himself realizing how the two were similar, the moon and he. The titanic nightlight was the master of the night sky, the dominant force of the vast darkness. While he, himself, was the Prince of Evil, the dark force that struck fear into all those who gazed into his eyes and terrorized the mortality of everyone who had the misfortune of crossing his path.

“There is a difference between you and I,” Minoshia spoke to the moon, lifting his body off the smooth sand and hoisting the bag onto his shoulder. “Even now you surrender to the will of another, as you slowly descend towards the horizon like a dog cowering into his cage…” he paused to allow the moon a rebuttal, but it stood silent. “Where as I will never surrender, I will never be outmatched, and I will never hide. I, Minoshia, am the true master of darkness and I will show everyone the power of my hatred.”

Making his declaration to the vast emptiness of the barren wasteland, no one but the television audience was there to hear his evil vow. No one was there to watch his eyes burn like charcoals or hear the demonic hissing in his frightening voice. Only the sands and the winds listened, and they swept across the surface of the island without a care or a response. With unmatched will, a cunning mind and a blackened heart Minoshia began his trek towards domination, and ultimately, towards imminent victory.