The shattering of the front window, and the baseball sized grenade rolling across my parquet floors hinted at future misfortunes. Sneezes wisely chose the better part of valor, tiny pomeranian footfalls receding through the kitchen. Setting my tea down upon the side table and closing my eyes, I covered my ears against the imminent...
BOOM, went the grenade, intending to immobilize the target, namely myself. This however, was not entirely effective.
With a sigh, I brushed the mangled and thoroughly useless shrapnel from my now-ruined sweater. There are times when being on the receiving end of a centuries-old eugenics program has its advantages, diamond tough skin clearly being at the top of said list. However, over the years, the cost of replacing wardrobes due to overzealous men like the ones soon to be introduced, does add up.
Oh, how terribly rude of me, I never did introduce myself. I am Augustus Pritchard, though my family often simply call me Brother 8. There's nothing terribly clever about this name, I'm simply the eighth iteration of a biological experiment intended to create a new master race. Standing at nearly seven feet tall, and weighing an impressive 280 pounds of pure muscle, I consider myself something of a success in this endeavor. However, as the baby of the family, I am quite disliked by my rather less impressive brothers. Thus, the grenade, the ruined sweater, and of course..."Ninjas," I remarked casually, pretentiously proud of my calm dismissal of the cliched and hackneyed plot device Brother 3 traditionally employed.
The asian assassins slip silently into my living room, sneaking stealthily through the smoke, unaware that I'm unharmed and that my heightened vision makes their theatrics somewhat comically unnecessary.
"Oh, do quit skulking about please, I've had a rather unfortunate turn with my sweater, and I'm fairly certain you've spoiled a perfectly good cup of tea," I said.
All movement stopped.
"Seriously, it's rather annoying," I added.
One figure stepped out into the open, masked face revealing no emotion.
"Stand and die with honor," commanded the ninja.
I stood. The expected whirlwind of attacks came. Shuriken whirling silently towards my throat, a blade cut vertically up the length of my spine while two others simultaneously stabbed for my midsection. The sound of shattering steel rent the silence of the well practiced assault asunder.
The ninja's eyes widened with fear and confusion as they glanced from their ruined weapons, to my unblemished flesh. They were still motionless when my fist closed around the head of the first ninja, and lifted his body as a weapon, whipping him against his comrades in a violent fury until they all lay dead and unmoving at my feet.
"Well, that was certainly anti-climactic," intoned a familiar voice from the hole in my ruined living room wall.
I turned to see Brother 5 leaning with all the sullenness of an angsty teen against the rough edge of the newly minted doorway.
"Do kindly step outside when you've got a moment, brother dear," continued 5.
"Do kindly give me a moment to compose myself, Chauncey." I enjoyed the wince caused by my use of my brother's familiar name, as I removed the last few strips of clothing from my body. "As you can see, my wardrobe is hardly suitable for galavanting about town."
An indifferent wave of his hand showed his willingness to allow me some propriety. "Of course, Brother. We're not savages. I hardly want to humiliate you by leaving a naked corpse on your front lawn."
"Thank you, ever so much...Chauncey." I strolled into my chambers and pulled out my second favorite suit. Wouldn't do to spoil my favorite after all. I dressed with as much alacrity as I could muster, ran a comb through my hair, and hoisting my large, double-bladed axe onto my shoulder, I returned to the ersatz door in my living room wall, and stepped through.
There upon the lawn, a veritable army awaited me. Men with high-tech weaponry standing shoulder to shoulder with ninjas, common thugs keeping company with honorable warriors, all in an effort to end my life. At the head of the assemblage, stood two of my siblings, Chauncey, or Brother 5 as he prefers to be called. (Despite our familial connections, I must confess to a rather keen dislike of the man. Our limited interactions as youths always culminated in a fight, invariably centered around his intense jealousy and hatred of me. That and my disdain for his cowardly attempts to sabotage my standing in the program.) To his right stood Brother 3. As an earlier member of the program, I was afforded far less contact with the man, and in some regards hold him in far greater esteem than any of my brothers. An honorable man, Brother 3 was no less ruthless than any of my kin, and had reached a somewhat legendary status among the brethren due to his single-handed elimination of the two previous iterations of our line. Adding to the man's general air of mystery, I didn't even know his name.
"Quite a force you've assembled, brother." I casually hefted the weight of the blade from my shoulder as I addressed Brother 3. "Why do you sully your ranks with Chauncey's riffraff?"
"Would you kindly...." Chauncey....Brother 5's retort was cut off, a katana blade serving as punctuation, bringing the man's sentence, and life to a pre-emptive end.
"A means to an end, 8. I intend to be the last brother standing. This was the easiest way to dispose of the cowardly little whelp before I eliminated you."
Brother 5's men studied the force they were now attached to. Bereft of their former leader, and allied with an obviously ruthless individual and an army of asian assassins, they were perturbed to say the least. I can't honestly deny that I myself was somewhat taken aback by these most recent developments.
"I do suppose you've made your point then." Axe blade leveled at the opposing force, I straightened my lapels with my free hand. "Do try your best not to ruin my suit....it's my second favorite."
"I will do my best, Brother."
They attacked.
I suppose I could take the time to describe every vicious and gory moment of the battle here, but I'm not one prone to enjoying gratuitous violence. Suffice it to say that within a span of 15 minutes, my lawn was left littered with the remains of a score of men, broken weapons, and exploded ordinance. My suit fared little better.
At the very least, the relative privacy afforded by the sheer size of my estate prevented the immediate interference of uniformed authority figures. Though this also precluded the arrival of aid.
"Well brother, you tried....apparently they give trophies for that nowadays." As I said this, I wiped an egregious amount of blood from the blade of my weapon.
Gasping out the last few precious moments of his life upon my well manicured bermuda grass lawn, Brother 3 made a valiant effort at holding in his entrails long enough for one final conversation with his little brother. "That's four of us gone now. If it means anything to you at all, I admit my respect for you, brother, if not my affection."
"It doesn't," I lied. "Why now, brother? Why choose this moment to continue the war between the brethren?" Kneeling down, I removed my ruined suit coat and balled it up beneath his head. I'm nothing if not a gentleman.
"You and 7 are the most powerful, the most dangerous among us. I was hunting Brother 5, nearly killed the pompous prig in fact. He begged for his life, offered me your location in exchange." A racking cough shook his body, eliciting a sharp groan of pain. Blood pooled in his throat. "7 is on his way."
These were the final words of a brother whose true name I would never learn. Following a brief moment during which I allowed myself to grieve, I hastened back to the ruined estate. A change of attire was certainly warranted, as was a final cup of tea in my devastated living room.
Bag packed with clothing and assorted small weaponry, I left my life and home behind, to once more join in the brethren hunt.
.....
"The 'brethren hunt'?" The gentleman sharing my cabin on the train looked somewhat taken aback by my tale. "Is that a thing? It sounds like a thing. Like you're some kind a ancient god or sumthin."
"Point one; I am certainly not a god. Point two; yes, I suppose it is a 'thing', in that it's the sole purpose of the brethren to weed out the weak among our line, leaving the strongest in control of the considerable influence and wealth inherent in the position. Point three; your grammar is atrocious." Folding my arms across my chest, I cast a wary eye back towards my companion. "So tell me your tale, since you find mine so incredulous."
"Ok fine, asshole. There I was, walking out a tha Tropicana, when a slot machine says to me....."
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