Discovering The Orient

4 Years Ago 

      The dozens of computer screens forming the circumference of the room radiated the dark place with a dim blue luminosity, casting every corner and crack into oblivious shadows. It was fitting Rosayan’s mood like a glove: Malicious but genius. His secret underground base was conceived in the middle of a small rock formation in Bratsk, a city in southern Russia. Its entrance was hidden under the empty fridge of an abandoned grocery store. He could enter at night from a fissure on the roof. The third fridge in the dairies section had a covered hatch on its bottom, which revealed the secret tunnel to Rosayan’s base. His brilliant mind was easily able to conceive a suit invulnerable to cold, and his whole hideout was so well covered that no outside temperature could enter. The lizaard’s new hide-out was split into two small rooms: a surveillance room, and a laboratory for his wicked experiments. The surveillance room had plenty of screens that displayed live footage from all the cameras he had installed. The screens to the left were showing footage from the cameras filming around his bases while to the right, screens were displaying footage from the micro-cameras that Rosayan had installed on some of his minions. To ensure loyalty and quicker access to information, he had decided to implant microscopic cameras in the necks of his strongest creations. Of course, none of them even knew about it, because if they would, they would never reveal their true intentions, fearing they might get caught. The young lizaard actually feared that one day, his most powerful creatures would immunise the submission formula and try to overthrow him. He wanted to make sure that he could detect all those who wouldn’t follow his orders and most importantly, those who would plot against him. It took the help of all his experimental minions to construct the base and the underground tunnel. The tunnel connecting this base to the one in Gobi Desert had a 900 km/h pod inside to make the trip a fast and comfortable one. Rosayan even planned to construct another tunnel that would connect the Russian base with India’s, but even though his legion of employees had significantly grown since only a year, it still wasn’t big enough yet for such a project.

             Rosayan quickly recognised the usefulness of controlling a group of earthling employees. He couldn’t help but recruit as much as he possibly could. He stayed careful though, because he knew that if he would recruit too many people at once, things would start getting known pretty fast. Faint rumors were already circulating in mid-Asia and Rosayan was becoming known as The Devil in several small circles. There were many things Rosayan could not do on his own due to his extraterrestrial nature, so therefore, things like walking in the open and buying stuff in stores was done by his earthling employees. He was even able to recruit some earthlings by sending his own employees to convert them. However, most of the time, Rosayan had to resolve to kidnapping and threatening. He made earthlings swear full and secret allegiance in exchange for the life of their families. The family, friends, and every other person that an employee knew was unaware of his little side job, but even if all the secrecy could cause trouble in their professional and social lives, Rosayan was able to give them all the money they could desire for their hardships. He did that to make sure that they stay loyal and hardworking, and it was also to prevent the tedious task of having to slaughter a person’s whole family and then find another vassal to do all the outside work for him. Rosayan mostly chose the poor and the homeless because they were easier to obtain and they didn’t need millions of dollars to be satisfied.

He believed money was in fact not that hard to procure. He found it strange that people worked so hard to get a reasonable salary when he could just easily kill, threat or assault people and get their money. He had wondered why almost no one did that, but from what he understood, it was because humans were controlled by emotions, ethics, and ideologies. He had learnt about these three concepts through travelling, Google and Wikipedia. He was convinced that he could use those three things one day to take advantage of the earthlings and conquer the world. He could use emotions to manipulate, use morals to impose laws, and invent ideologies to create a religion that justified his actions.

            At six years old, Rosayan had five bases scattered across the Orient. He did not dare to go to the northwest because there was far too much population. He would only try to visit Europe once his colonies would get sufficiently powerful and populous. He also found the countries to the west of his base in Taklimakan to be excessively hostile. The first time Rosayan left on an adventure to the west, he almost got shot. The second time, while flying over several human settlements, the only things that caught his eye were the civil wars, the aggressive manifestations, the explosions, the destroyed buildings and the people fighting in the street. There was too much violence going on over there, and he liked that, but he definitely wasn’t ready yet to tackle on such an environment.

The only country to the west of his base that Rosayan had settled in was Afghanistan, and that was only because he could disguise himself. He had discovered that in that country, there was a very popular fashion style among the women that was called the burqa. This clothing style covered you from head to toe, revealing only the eyes through a grid. It was perfect for Rosayan since he could use this burqa to conceal himself while moving out in the open. He only had to build some shoes with elevated soles so he could look as tall as an adult and the trick was done. He managed to build himself a small underground base somewhere around Kabul. The place served solely as a surveillance room that filmed around the country, and it wasn’t connected to any other base yet.

One day, the lizaard was walking around Kabul, exploring the place for interesting information and supplies that he could get his hands on. He had brought his PUG along just in case. It was a habit he adopted since he started to travel a lot.  He visited an old library, walked through the bookshelves and picked out the few English ones that were there. He did have a primitive understanding of the Persian language, but he wasn’t fluent enough to read big, complicated books. It was actually his third time visiting this library because he found Afghan literature to be quite interesting. He finished yet another English book he had spotted, so he headed for the exit, greeting the librarian on his way.  The librarian smiled back but then said: “Excuse me lady, I know you like to read a lot and I admire that, but I must ask you… where is your mahram?” Mahram was a term used to describe a close male relative such as a father, brother, or husband.

            “A mahram? I don’t have that.” Rosayan answered, clearly not knowing what that was.

            “Please don’t come here ever again, you hear me?” The librarian ordered, looking frustrated.

            The lizaard didn’t understand why he was getting rejected, but he just obeyed because he didn’t want to cause any trouble. As he headed out the door, he was sure he had heard the librarian call him a s**t. He moved on, not thinking too deeply into it, and came across a market street. He observed the stalls and the products for sale, determining which ones looked fun or useful. He smelled something delicious up ahead so he followed the smell and ended up in front of a food shack that was roasting big chunks of meat skewered through spinning vertical poles. He absolutely needed to try some of that. He advanced to the stall, and greeted the owner. “Hello, I’d like to try some of this. How much does it cost?” He said in his finest Persian.

            “You want some of my food ey?” The owner asked.

            “It looks delicious! Tell me your price.”

            “You think you can just come here alone, woman? Where’s your husband?”

            “I don’t have a husband.” Rosayan responded, wondering what the point of such a question was.

            “You’re not even married yet and you give yourself the right to walk freely in the streets? You dirty w***e!” He called out in a harsh tone.

            “Hey I just want to buy some food. I’ve got money.”

            “Get outta my face you s**t! He shouted, and people were starting to look in their direction.

             “I’m hungry and I want some food!” Rosayan shouted back.

            Another merchant from a nearby stall approached them and asked: “What’s the problem here?” Two other men loomed about to see what was going on.

            “This unmarried woman dares to come here without a mahram and she thinks she can just do what she wants!” The food stall owner exclaimed. Everyone around was suddenly glaring at Rosayan with revulsion.

            There used to be a complete ban on women's activity outside the home unless accompanied by a mahram. It was now technically legal for a woman to go outside unaccompanied ever since the current government had changed the laws, but there were still many conservative citizens who were opposed to this change and they remained intolerant. Many of them were still passionately constraining their wives and daughters to wear their burqa and be accompanied by a man every time they went outside.

            “What a s**t! She deserves to get spanked by her father.” A man let out.

            “Get out of here!” Another one shouted.

            “What the hell is going on?” Rosayan muttered to himself, starting to panic. He turned around and just walked away, insulted, but then another civilian approached him and kicked him in the shins. “Hey, don’t you ever touch me!” Rosayan let out. He wasn’t going to let himself get bullied around. The people around him started laughing and then a man came from behind and pushed him. Fed up, Rosayan turned around, approached the man head-on, quickly pressed his palm on the man’s abdomen, and suddenly a spiked bone shot out from his palm like an assassin blade and it speared through the man’s guts. He drew his bone back inside his arm, and the man fell to his knees, about to die. Seeing this, another man instantly jumped on his back and ripped off his burqa, revealing his green skin and his elevated shoes. The people backed off in surprise, not knowing how to react.

             Rosayan knew he was fucked but he tried one last thing that he thought could maybe save him. He declared out loud: “Do not fear me, mortals; I am sent here by the Goddess to save you all from misery!” He tried to convince them that he was an angel of god, but no one believed him because there was only one god and it was Allah, so many of them took out their guns and their machetes. Some were running at him with kitchen knives while others started shooting at him. A bullet got him in the leg, making him drop on one knee. “Ow!” The young lizaard screamed, “This place is crazy, I’m outta here!” He took out a remote from his pocket, pressed a button and the jetpack that was strapped to his back turned on. He blasted off in the sky at outstanding speed. The people below were still shooting at him and another bullet got him on the shoulder before he could flee.

            After this incident, Rosayan found it wise to include a group of medics to his legion. He started capturing some doctors around Asia and even a couple of university teachers. The doctors were forced to treat the wounds of anyone who got hurt in Rosayan’s legion while the medical teachers had to teach their knowledge to the lizaards. Since lizaards learn tremendously fast, Rosayan assumed that after a couple of months, he’d already have a handful of minions who would know how to treat injuries. He could then liberate the doctors and teachers (or kill them if they seemed intent on snitching him) and replace them by his own group of hand-picked Healers, composed of the lizaards who distinguished themselves the most in terms of medical skill. Ever since that time, Rosayan had never gone back to his base in Afghanistan. He resolved to wait until he would find a safer method to travel there. Anyways, he was pretty sure the nemusian wasn’t in that country because he had never heard the PUG beep while he was flying over the area and none of his cameras had spotted anything suspicious.

            Rosayan also desired to explore further east, but he had lost hope on his first attempt. He was considering setting up a base in eastern China to have more connexions with the coastal countries. He could then learn how to fish, recruit people to expand his legion, and get his hands on even more useful or amusing objects. Who knows, he could even spot a lonely shop to rob or some isolated earthling with a lot of money. On that day, Rosayan was determined to investigate in eastern Asia so he left off, as usual, with nothing but his jetpack, his PUG and lots of money. Rosayan loved to venture into the unknown, and even though it could often get him in trouble, the risk of it all seemed to be what gave him the best thrills. He soared over the Ala Shan Desert, examining its whereabouts and bearing in mind that it looked like a very nice place to establish himself. He then asked himself: “Is there any worthwhile town nearby?” So he continued east, dismissing the small villages, until he saw a relatively big city. He stopped over it, drew out his PUG and said, “Let’s see if there’s anything interesting around here…” He pointed the device up, down, left, right. “Well, no nemusians around for now.”

             He dropped down to the roof a tall building, as subtly as his noisy jetpack could allow him to, and crept to one of the edges to peak down below. There were masses of earthlings everywhere, but from what he could tell, no one had spotted him yet. He hopped from roof to roof, sometimes using his jetpack to clear some large gaps. As with all the other places he explored, the first step was always to find the name of the city, and then figure out what language the people spoke. He could have brought a map or a GPS with him, but that would ruin all the fun. Ever since he took some language courses, he had always been able to figure the name and the common language of every city he visited yet without cheating. He started examining all the signs around the place and it wasn’t hard for him to deduce that everybody was speaking Mandarin around here. Now that that was figured out, the name of the city had to be written somewhere near. Or else, he’d just have to ask someone. He went on with his rooftop hopping, doing his best to be sneaky, and searched for the ideal dark alley to hide and wait for someone alone to pass by. A sudden smell abruptly rose in his nostrils as he jumped from a rooftop and his eyes instantly grew big with astonishment. He landed on the next roof and asked, “What the heck did I just experience?” He hurried to an edge and looked down in every direction to find the source of this hankering sensation. “What in the world could be able to create such a wonderful aroma?” He followed his nose until he made it to the rooftop of a small restaurant. He took a whiff off the ventilators in the back of the building and by recognising the deep-fry odor he knew that he was right on top of what he was looking for. The little lizaard had to think up a plan if he wanted to get his hands on that food. He knew from experience that he couldn’t just enter the place because of the mere fact that he wasn’t human. Everyone would start a commotion and some maniacs would probably try to kill him again. He had even tried once to be nice and follow the conventions, but seeing how mistreated he was by doing so, he told himself: “Fine, paying the food and being polite doesn’t work? I’ll do things my way then.”

 

 

***

 

            Mô and his wife Changchang were waiting for their supper to arrive, in the usual restaurant they had been going to every Friday for years. They were having their usual conversation about work, money, and about if they were ready to have a child or not. The waiter arrived at their table with the meals they had ordered, and he placed them delicately on the table. They thanked the waiter, and he left off for another table. Mô was about to cut his dog into filets but then Changchang told her husband that before they start eating, she needed to say something important. Mô put down his knife in displeasure, and his wife was about to announce him that she was pregnant but she got interrupted by the sound of the entrance door opening violently.

Rosayan bluntly opened the door and entered the restaurant. His brusque arrival had made a couple of heads turn and seconds later he could see that everyone was noting his reptilian appearance, but he tried to ignore the fact that he was undoubtedly the center of attention and kept on walking forward unhesitatingly, looking straight in front of him. When he got near the tables where the customers were eating, he eyeballed everyone’s plates quickly. He then spotted a specific plate to the left and decided that was the one. Rosayan walked calmly to the table where Mô and Changchang were eating, and as he did, he gently grabbed a knife from a neighbouring table. He then stopped walking and stood inches away from the table, looking directly in Mô’s eyes. He stood there unmoving for at least 5 seconds, and in an instant, Rosayan swung his knife and stopped it right in front of Changchang’s neck, holding her hostage.

“Changchang, No!” Mô screamed, lifting himself quickly from his chair.

“No one moves!” Rosayan blared out, “Or I kill her.”

 Mô instantly obeyed and stopped moving, along with the rest of the restaurant. The lizaard continued to relentlessly stare at Mô, with his right hand holding a knife at Changchang’s throat, while his left hand was slowly, delicately picking up her plate. As soon as that was done, he ran off to the other end of the dining room with his newly acquired meal, laughing uncontrollably like a troublesome child would do after having accomplished a bad-minded prank. He needed to eat the whole thing as fast as possible so he could get out of here before getting arrested or assaulted. He was just about to grab the whole thing in his hands and shove it in his mouth but he suddenly felt an irregular movement beside him so he pulled back his hands, avoiding by a hair a butcher knife that had dropped inches away from his face and chopped his meal in half. It was the restaurant’s chef.

“You have some nerve trying to steal the food in my restaurant!” The chef asserted.

            Rosayan jumped backed and posed in an instinctive combat stance, alarmed.

“He wants to fight him?” A customer said out loud.

“Hey, he’s gonna fight against the master!” Another one said, and then many people were starting to gather around the scene.

“Huh, you actually want to fight me? You must not know who I am” The chef said with a grin. Indeed, Rosayan had no idea he was about to fight against the undefeated Kung-Fu master, Yen Li. Everyone in town knew about him.

“I’m not afraid of anyone!” Rosayan declared, even though he actually was a little scared.

The chef laughed. He put down his knife on the table and suggested: “If you plan on eating without paying, then here’s the deal. You and I fight one on one, barehanded, and if you win, you get to eat.”

“Interesting.” Rosayan replied.

“Is he out of his mind?” Someone in the crowd said.

“I warn you though,” Yen told him, “If you cheat and use a weapon, you will not eat, and if by any chance you manage to kill me with a weapon…be certain that no one here will let you eat.”

The lizaard let out a smirk and said, “We have a deal then, mister! Show me what earthlings can do with their hands.” Rosayan charged forward and unleashed a side kick that was supposed to collide with Yen’s ribs, but Yen parried the kick to the side, making Rosayan swerve on one leg, and during this vulnerable moment, Yen closed in, struck the lizaard’s neck with the side of his hand and half a second later Rosayan dropped on his four legs. He stared at the blurry, spinning floor, and asked himself, “What the hell did he just do to me?” His thinking was put to a stop when he saw Yen about to give him a soccer kick in the face. He rolled to the side and dodged it, then got back up and pretended he wasn’t even fazed by the blow. “That was weak!” He called out to Yen, thinking it would hinder the Kung-Fu master’s self-esteem. The chef just stood there and waited. Impatient, Rosayan attacked first again. He tried punching at the man’s face to then follow with body blows to lower his guard, but it seemed like Yen could read all his moves in advance. He just smashed Rosayan’s arm away every time with circular motions. Rosayan then tried to throw a quick jab but Yen swiftly warded off the blow and proceeded with a flurry of lightning fast punches that struck the young creature on every weak spot of his upper body. Once Rosayan finally understood he should start shielding himself, Yen grabbed his arm and spun him in the air with a wrestling move. Rosayan landed harshly on his back, dizzy and hurting. To everyone’s surprise, he got back up, and even though he wasn’t very stable on his legs, he stood.

“This is not going well,” The lizard muttered to himself. He walked slowly towards his enemy, and provoked him. “Is this all you’ve got?” He said. The master scoffed in amusement, and continued with his massacre. Rosayan was receiving the biggest whooping of his life. This is embarrassing, he thought. There was nothing he could do to get his delectable meal back. He received yet another punch in the stomach, and he fell to his knees. “I’m getting my a*s kicked.” He gasped out as he stood back up, but then got flipped harshly off his feet. The lizaard king could not tolerate this insult any longer.

“Are you ready to give up?” Yen called, “You’re starting to look pretty bad.”

“Come at me one last time I dare you…” Rosayan told him, with fury in his eyes.

“So be it.” Yen got himself back into his stance, and then Rosayan came at him shoulder first and managed to tackle him in the abdomen due to his short nature. Yen was able to hold him off and was considering kneeing the creature in the stomach, but then suddenly the alien drew back his hand and out from his forearm grew a spike. He then thrust it right at Yen’s chest. Because of his skillfully conditioned reflexes, Yen was able to move out of harm’s way at the last moment, but he was still shocked and confused. What did I just see? He told himself, but then he concluded that it did not matter and that the only thing that did matter, was that the creature had cheated and it had even deliberately tried to kill him. Yen was now angry. Rosayan knew at that instant that once again, he was fucked. The Kung-Fu master grabbed the arm that had tried to murder him, and broke it in half without any mercy left.

The young alien threw himself on his back and started screaming and crying while rolling around on the floor. He crawled to the entrance, crying like a kid who tried something stupid and hurt himself while doing it, then stood up at the entrance. He looked at the crowd that had gathered to see this violent séance. “What’s wrong with you earthlings always trying to hurt me? Go to hell you freaks!” He whined, and then limped outside the restaurant. Once outside, he blasted off into the air, crying all the way home.

After those adventures, Rosayan had learned three lessons. First of all, he needed to control his urges and accept that it was impossible for him to show up in public places. Second of all, he discovered the hard way that some humans actually knew how to fight barehanded. He had thought that earthlings were only good at shooting with guns and throwing bombs at each other, but he never expected them to be so good in hand-to-hand combat. He vowed to never be beaten this bad again, and figured he either needed to take his Kradda courses more seriously, or learn another fighting style altogether. His third resolution was to build himself a more sophisticated jetpack because the one he had was simply too noisy and too difficult to handle. Just flying in a straight line was a hard task that had taken him months to achieve. He now had the resources necessary for a more functional machine, and he could even make it a lot faster.

The young lizaard never went back to eastern China. Like with all the other directions he could take, he needed to wait until he became more powerful. The north and the east were just too populated, while to the south and to the west, everything was too chaotic. He had only been able to make himself two new bases that year: the one in Russia and the other in Afghanistan. It seemed that his conquest was at a stalemate because he was blocked from every direction. This was the big world that his father had asked him to conquer. He started understanding that this was no easy task. Rosayan had to accept the truth and recognize he wasn't ready. He was at the point where he needed to put a stop to his expansion. For the next year, he would have to solely focus on four goals: Recruit more employees, create more monsters, build a new jetpack, and learn another martial art. By multiplying his legion he could then acquire more territory and resources, while getting himself a new jetpack would allow him to save time by going everywhere faster. After that, he could plan on connecting his Russian base with India’s.

A month after the incident, the proud lizaard still couldn’t get over the humiliation he had suffered in China. His bones were supposed to be invincible! Either his education was a lie, or this Chinese man was so goddamn powerful that he could break through metal. With the aid of his Healers, it had taken a whole month for his arm to fully heal. Lizaards had millions of bones, so even if they broke a couple, they could replace the damaged parts with other surrounding bones by shaping and moving them. When skilled enough in the art of bone extrusion (Rosayan wasn’t at that level yet), one could even surround his broken bones with other bones, forming a durable internal cast around his injury that can speed up the healing process considerably. So after a month and a half, Rosayan could finally get back to training, but since his duel with Yen Li, his confidence in his own strength wasn’t as good. Kradda was most certainly effective, but he discovered its limit when he couldn’t do anything against that guy. Moreover, his skeesh hadn’t grown enough yet to be usable in battle, and skeesh combat was a major part of the Kradda art. He needed more. He craved more. There had to be useful fighting arts on Earth. And so the six year old set out, traveling around the world in search of an earthling martial art that could deal with Kung-Fu masters.