Mars

Every now and then I like remindin' folks that I am a writer. I don't just write about my beliefs or ramble on about nuthin' sometimes I tell stories I made up all on my own.

This one's 'bout a character in my book. His name is Vincent Maroni and he's a big, burly, bastard and generally viewed as a one dimensional character. People think he's just a bruiser but he's a bit deeper than all that. Hopefully this shows a touch of that and why he's viewed as a bruiser. Enjoy.



Mars: God of War

The crowd roars around the cage. They’re ready for another blood bath. The mat has that familiar metallic smell. Mars knows it well.

Vincent Maroni is the man known as Mars, a shortened form of Maroni as well as the name of the Roman god of war. He is named so because the man is a fighter. He fought his mother’s drinking to be born and his father’s abuse to live. He fought the boys in school that picked on him. Now he fights punks at a club to make money. He’s fighting tonight because he has nothing better to do. Vincent enjoys what he does. His home is the battlefield.

He is bigger than most men, let alone those born premature like he was. His physique is chiseled perfection. The only imperfections visible are the scars he wears like badges of honor engraved on his face and body. They are marks earned in the school yard and not in the classroom. Mars was never much for the classroom. He doesn’t know much about photosynthesis or algebra but he knows weapons and he knows tactics in battle. He is no genius but he is no one’s fool.

People have tried using him like a fool. They ask him difficult questions to reveal he doesn’t know the answer. They only ask him to beat up people. No one asks his opinion on political matters. No one cares what he thinks about art. Only in battle do his opinions matter. In battle, all his insecurities disappear and he becomes whole. No more hurt from feeling stupid. No more feeling hurt because another woman rejected him. No hurt feelings because the ones that accepted him will never be the one he wants.

“I am not the ox.” He chants in his mind before every fight. Reminding himself to be smart. Reminding himself that people expect only so much from him. And that he will invariably prove them wrong.

The god of war waits patiently in the cage built to contain his fury. He waits for his next victim to be presented to him. He sits in a throne built for him. In the ring he is king, he is ruler. Here his word is law. There is no one capable of defeating him. He knows these things down to his bones. He knows them with every cell in his body.

The air around him seems to carry his intimidating scent to his opponents. One combatant didn’t realize how mismatched he was until he caught that smell. He pissed himself immediately after. Mars let him walk away from the fight. The man’s manager wouldn’t though. Mars showed the little man mercy and ended his suffering with a single attack. It hurt. A lot. But he lived. For a while.

The crowd cheers as the opponent enters. Mars stays seated and says nothing. He waits patiently seated in his throne knowing his subjects only cheer for the soul about to separate from its body. The warrior about to face a god is tall, thin, and fast. Against Mars he may be challenging. Short and fast is nice for the audience, creates a David and Goliath atmosphere. Here the challenger, Kaz of Zimbabwe, stands six inches taller than Mars and is dressed in a loin cloth and painted like some kind of demonic skeleton. He holds two short spears in his hands which add extra danger.

Mars stands and begins to stretch for the fight. He is attacked from behind by the giant from Zimbabwe, or so he claims anyway, a dirty tactic even in this underground world of battle. The giant tries sliding his other spear into Mars’ side but is caught in the act. The other blade is slowly being forced deeper into Maroni’s back by the weight of the giant. Maroni needs both arms to twist the giant’s hand, but he manages to with a little effort and pulls his enemy down in a modified hip toss.

Mars wastes no time as he drops his knees on his opponent’s mid-section, forcing the air from his lungs. They both know it’s all but over after that. In the karate movies, they’d have you think fights were supposed to last hours or that the person with the fanciest moves is going to win. That’s not the truth.

Kaz slashes with the one spear still in his possession and Mars is forced off of him. Kaz coughs and gasps. Mars grabs the spear on the floor and lunges for Kaz’s belly. His attack lands and so do Kaz’s guts.

Kaz is determined to win, he throws his spear and strikes Mars’ shoulder. Mars pulls it out with a grunt. He shoves one of the spears through the arm of the giant and kicks him on to his back.

Kaz of Zimbabwe, bleeds uncontrollably, and gasps frantically for air. Still the giant tries to shove Mars away as the god of war grabs the giant’s skull in both hands. Kaz roars like a lion to warn away Mars. The god only smiles as he forces his hands together. It’s not an easy task, not even for Mars but he hears the first subtle crack and knows it’ll all be over soon. The audience watches in the horror what their pagan god does.

Mars stands up and flings brain matter from his hands. He walks to his throne and sits, waiting patiently for his next victim. The crowd cheers.