The best thing to do when outmatched in a fair fight is play dirty. For the entirety of the fight, Brunwine had been on the ropes, barely surviving. He was pinned under the beating that he was receiving from the enemy.
For the Countryman, he could only remember his past.
He wasn't seeing the fight as he fought. He remembered his childhood. He had grown up on a farm, somewhere in the north. Whether it was in Scotland or merely somewhere near York was gone upon him.
The mercenary was rising from the beating.
He remembered how in primary school, he would be teased for his height but when he had a crush on a girl in his class, he couldn't help but feel so small.
His sword came down his left side.
Then he was in secondary school. He was playing football. When his foot came into contact with the ball, it moved forward so fast. Right as it collided with the goalie's head, his mind changed memories.
The mercenary dropped the sword.
Finally, he was in college. The one place where he felt at home. Then along came the man in a suit. He had a nice voice and a king face. He said that he had a party at his house and that everyone would be there. The Countryman found there was no party at that house.
And to commit to his plan, the mercenary looked down at the exhausted and defeated enemy. The mercenary ripped some rope from somewhere.
Where did that rope come from?
As the Countryman's eyes made their way down his body, he could see that his own intestines were being ripped from his body and being wrapped around the mercenary's hand like some kind of bandage for a boxing game. To end off the fight, he landed a blow straight towards the Countryman's head. Landing in his nose. He did it over and over again until either his brain waved its white flag or his body simply passed on.
Finally, Tommy could see himself being commanded to do things. Things he didn't want to do. But once he got a taste, he sure did ask for seconds. People were on their knees with their hands tied behind their backs as he did all sorts of things.
The last thing that ever came across his mind was him lifting an informant for Germany off their feet and flying twenty meters up. He dropped the informant on his legs. They were broken shortly before he picked him up and did it again and again. What was the reason? Nobody knew. Who he informed, nobody knew.
"Look at that, everybody! The lost mercenary, the knight who knew no honor, the silent godfather of colonizers, the greatest swordsman, stands before you right now victorious!"
Brunwine ripped off his armor and gave himself a look down. He had three broken bones. Two of those were ribs. His skull was slightly fractured, and his jaw would have to be wired shut. Well, he didn't know about the last part.
"Just leave me alone and give me some wine."
Without another word, he walked back into the hotel. Hoping, praying to whatever god would listen, that he wouldn't pull through to the end, but his allies would.
Alas, gods have never quite listened to him.
The Traveler had a way about him that couldn't quite be described by others. He was suave, he was silly, he was smart. He was a philosopher, an excellent conversationalist, and no doubt about it the most well educated of the bunch.
But when he saw the likes of Brunwine come into the hotel, none of his knowledge could quite prepare him for what he had seen. He'd performed surgeries on people who had been mauled by all sorts of things. The worst of which was usually those who had gotten into fights with werewolves. That was a story he had saved for another day.
"I know he hit you good, but how the hell did you also tear your ACL?" The Traveler rarely ever cursed, he sure did at that. As far as he knew, Brunwine was a medical mystery because his very living life would be beyond him. "Wait, don't tell me. Your jaw is already broken."
Another doctor had come to him. He wasn't a normal doctor. More PhD and less medical school. For the most part, he dabbled in less than orthodox medical practices and some that went against the laws of man and physics.
"This is going to be so impossible to do. Just know you got to pay me back for this and if you die, I will bring you back and kill you."
Brunwine grumbled at the second doctor shortly before he left and the Traveler gave him some kind words.
"Don't worry, I can't stand him either."
As he too left the treatment bay, which was originally a honeymoon suite until the nihilist came to the conclusion that there was no way they could not treat the wounded.
Soon enough, there were three more people in the room with him. They were a part of a club of sorts. They were Bo, Clemmons, and Ron. Sure enough, they had formed a club of winners. The three didn't have much in common. They didn't even like each other that much. Ron detested how snoopy Clemmons could be and Clemmons detested their stupidity.
"So, you don't know us, but we know you."
Clemmons stopped Ron mid sentence.
"Of course he knows who we are. He's seen the television."
"Yes… well mister Brunwine, we would like to welcome you to the club."