Pest Control [ASURA/.PAAK]

[Izzy Anders]

The slick jet black 2018 Corvette Stingray pulled up onto the curb. The driver perfected the style of parking. Nothing was scrapped, but the parking gave the illusion of the car being squished against the sidewalk. The door swung open with a gray combat boot slamming down on the pavement. Stepping out fully with a yawn was Maya Kawajiri, known by her professional name of ASURA. A strand of her neon blue hair fell in front of her face, getting taken care of in a single motion. A small tug and it was out of her face. She wrapped it around her finger and tucked it into her pocket. Looking around the dirty lot, complete with a seemingly abandoned hotel standing in front of her. Other assets included the ragged people laid out in odd places, blanketed in trash and grime.

“So, where did they find that name at?” the first question that leaves Maya’s mouth was based in a conversation that they were having on their way to the site. Under the tag team name of SHINIGAMI, Myung (AKA .PAAK) and Maya (AKA ASURA) were scheduled to take part in the Dynamic Duos tournament in FGA. For them, their first challenge would lie in Owen Gonsalves and Tyler Storm, two members of SHOOTCAMP, a rather controversial, but somewhat endearing team. The sad part is that ASURA, being a lethargic and flippant woman by nature, did not care to know more about them than what was needed.

Until a fateful conversation drew Maya’s eye to the team.

Now, they were all Maya talked to Myung about, for better or worse. Mostly, it was elementary insults at how Gonsalves looked like he was auditioning for Oliver Twist and how Tyler Storm was a basic man, but “that was okay in this day and age.”

“The latter is alright,” Myung replied as she closed the passenger’s door. “Not everyone can be so, endearing, as the two of us.” Her hand pointed in Maya’s direction, then squarely back at herself. “The former? Oh dear, that’s a whole another matter entirely.”

“But what about the name? SHOOTCAMP? What the hell is that?” ASURA sneered as she went to the back of the car. The trunk opened cleanly, a product of how far technology has come. The contents were simple. A baseball bat and a duffel bag that was filled with something...heavy. “They're not shoot fighters. They seem too weak for all that.”

“Well, it’s certainly a choice. That’s for sure.” Myung took ahold of the duffel bag. “Hmm. Perhaps our little chickadees thought it sounded tough at the time?” She made sure to hoist the bag up just a bit, careful not to let it hit the floor. “Although, a name is just a name in most cases, darling.” She shook her head. “It’s that team composition we need to look at.”

Myung shifted the bag to her left hand and pressed her hip gently against the car. “Just look at how the little buggers interact and move. They don’t act like a team comprised brotherhood and friendship.” She did her best Dikembe Mutombo impersonation. “You saw all that bullshit Owen was talking on Twitter. Then you saw Tyler’s approach. Polar opposites.” She nodded her head. “They might be friends. But those two obviously have two different goals, motives, and philosophies of wrestling. I’m sure both Owen and Tyler want to win. But past that? Doesn’t seem like there are many commonalities.”

“But you and me, baby? We’re unified on just about all fronts. That’s what makes use deadly, sweetie. It’s not the way we talk our shit, even though we do it with gusto! It’s not that we’ve built up these auras or personas.” She nodded. Myung tossed the bat to Maya. Through the corner of her eye, she spotted a stray crowbar. She snagged it for herself. “It’s that we’re actually on the same wavelength.”

The two amidst their conversation headed up the hotel, seeing people scatter, but none of them were important. Maya scoped around, taking note of each and every person that got out of their way. None of them were going to be a problem, providing a sense of relief to the captain. “Tell me something that I don’t know,” she joked, taking out a slip of paper. They had a few more floors to scale before they got to their destination.

“They’re not really fit for that kind of mindset. They’re not killers or shit slingers. They’re fine just the way they are,” Maya hummed as she started to scale the next set of stairs. The elevator was busted, probably left in disrepair for a few years now. As she walked up them, she spotted someone trying to get up quickly, not knowing that the two would have made their way in. With bat in hand, Maya closed the distance and smashed into the person’s knee. A yell echoed throughout the stairwell, but Maya broke it with a boot to the face, silencing the person before they had more time to yell. “They seem like the kiss babies type of people.”

“And there’s absolutely, positutely nothing wrong that.” Another person’s footsteps echoed behind the duo. A string-bean of a person darted out of a side room—only to get walloped in the face by that crowbar. “Be who you are! Step in your purpose and life your best life!” She let out a tiny laugh as she wiped the person’s blood on the side of the hallway wall. “Just don’t try to be something you’re not, you know?”

“So, we kill ‘em, right?” Maya asked jokingly as she finally stopped in front of a door. She heard rustling inside, an indication of the rats trying their hardest to escape. “I mean, there’s nothing else to do in that regard. I say we can leave Tyler crippled, but Owen? Oh, he gotta catch it.”

With a kick, she found out how weak the door had degraded into, falling to the force. Maya walked on in with a hum. “Like, he said we’re ‘tough girls’,” she rolled her eyes as she approached the closest man in the room, swinging at his knee. It bent inward at the impact of the bat. “That alone gets you fucked up.”

“Well, he did say that he liked to talked out of the side of his ass for his own amusement.” Another lunging attacker was clubbed in the ribs and across the side of the face. “Even still, you’d think Mr. G would be privy to picking his words more carefully. His words have gotten him fucked up before. At what point does that self preservation kick in?” An ornate looking vase stood a few feet away. A hand-painted dragon chased another down the clay. It was a valuable piece in the right collector’s hands. She could have left it alone. Instead, it turned to worthless dust with a simple swing of her crowbar. “Dear Lord, I thought I’d be done with simple people after Freya Kane.” Her shoulders rose as she shrugged. “Tyler is at least civil…Unless that’s just a ploy too.” Myung snapped her fingers. “Sly trickster!”

“In any case,” Maya began as she located her final target, “their self-preservation should have kicked in when they heard they were facing us.” Her enjoyment of her passive activity came to her face with a smirk. She reached into the heavy bag to pull out a heap of money. In her gloves, there would be no evidence. It was a matter of planting things and telling a story. She put some of the cash in the hands of an unconscious man.

“They should run like the rats they are.”