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Story

Strongman – Part 10

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By Peter B. and Art Intelli

Chapter 10

My breath came in ragged gasps as I half-carried, half-dragged Viktor through the gnarled roots and tangled branches of the dense forest. He was barely conscious, his weight heavy against my shoulder. His once-mighty frame was so frail from starvation and dehydration, his steps sluggish.

“Viktor,” I whispered urgently, shifting my grip to keep him upright. He was too weak to continue standing on his own.

“You have to keep going.”

Viktor groaned, his head lolling to the side.

“I can’t,” he rasped. “I have nothing left.”

My grip tightened. “That’s not true. You always told me to find the strength inside myself. Now it’s your turn.”

With a weak chuckle, Viktor nodded. “Damn, throwing my own words back at me.  I taught you too well.”  He said nothing more, but I could feel the shift in him — the stubborn spark of willpower that had once made Viktor the strongest man I had ever known.

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Story

Strongman – Part 08

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By Peter B. and Art Intelli

Chapter 8: Baldy Biker Initiation

I stood in the firelight, my breath still uneven.  I wiped the sweat and blood from my brow and chin.

“So, even though you tried to run, and even though I really don’t trust you, for some reason, I like you, Rabbit, so I’m gonna give you a second chance.  You beat the strongman and thus won the right to make a choice.  Either you pledge to join us, or I skin your strongman buddy alive.  And make you watch every minute of it. So I’m thinking the choice would be kinda easy.”

I knew I had to play along for now.  Give us time to get out of this somehow.

“OK.  You got me. I’m with you.”

Q-Ball paced in front of me, arms crossed, his grin sharp as a knife. “But see, Rabbit, you don’t just join the Baldies. You have to earn your place.”

The other bikers murmured in agreement, seemingly to tighten the circle around us. Their leather vests gleamed in the flickering firelight, the studs and chains reflecting like a thousand sharp teeth.

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Story

Strongman – Part 05

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By Peter B. and Art Intelli

Chapter Five: The Road Ahead

The clang of our kettle bell weights echoed through the quiet carnival grounds as Viktor and I pushed through another intense workout. My arms burned, my chest heaved, and I relished the feeling. The weightlifting sessions were no longer just about training — they were about proving myself, about matching Viktor rep for rep, about standing beside him as an equal.

But then, the sharp call of a whistle cut through the still evening air.

“Meeting! Everyone, gather up!”

The voice belonged to Rufus Crane, the head of the carnival. His tone was grim, and the moment Viktor and I stepped outside, we could see the unease settling over the performers and workers. They clustered together near the main stage, faces lined with worry.

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Story

Strongman – Part 01

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By Peter B. and Art Intelli

Chapter One: The Chain

I never knew my parents, they had died when I was very young, and I was raised by my big brother.  I was a terrible brat to him, but he always dealt with me fairly and calmly.  He was everything to me.  Just as our relationship was really starting to click, he was killed in a car crash halfway through my senior year of high school.  Although I somehow managed to graduate, in the three years since then, I have been a total fuck-up.

By the time I reached my early 20s I had already been floating from job to job, barely scraping by, living in one of those run-down SROs with peeling wallpaper and thin walls. The kind of place where you hear everything, but no one talks to you unless they need something. I never had two cents to rub together, just enough to get by. Just enough to stay invisible.

But lately, things had gotten worse. Rent was months overdue, and the landlord had made it clear that tomorrow, if I didn’t pay up, I was out. He didn’t care that I was barely keeping my head above water. In his eyes, I was just another body taking up valuable space.

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Story

Sadistic Blacksmith

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By Art Intelli

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the dusty yard outside the blacksmith’s forge. The clang of hammer on metal echoed, sharp and unforgiving. Inside the forge, the heat was almost unbearable, the air thick with the acrid scent of burning coal.

The blacksmith, a burly man with arms like tree trunks and a face set in a permanent scowl, worked with practiced precision. His hands, rough and scarred from years of toil, moved with surprising dexterity as he heated the iron rivets to a glowing red. He glanced up, his eyes narrowing at the sight of his latest task.

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Story

Biker Becomes Guard Dog

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By Art Intelli

The moon cast a silver hue over the quiet suburban neighborhood. The only sound was the soft rustle of leaves in the cool night breeze. A figure in black leather slinked through the shadows, eyes darting to and fro. The biker thug, his face hidden behind a bandana, crept up to the back door of a modest house. He pulled out a set of lock-picking tools and set to work. Within moments, the door clicked open, and he slipped inside.

The interior was dark, but the biker’s night-vision was honed from years of experience. He moved silently, like a panther stalking its prey, unaware that he was the one being hunted.

Suddenly, a light flicked on, blinding him momentarily. He blinked rapidly, his eyes adjusting to see a tall, imposing figure standing in the doorway, a gun trained on him.

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