On a cold, dangerous December night, the whole world looked to one man. The man in the span of two months caused an entire movement of onlookers getting up to bare arms. Those who saw the flaws in the system. A rigged game that the house always won. They wanted to inflict the same hurt that was put upon them and their families. Pain was their common thread, and revenge was their answer. All in the name of Ultraviolence.
Ultraviolence, the name of a man who went beyond the usual vigilante actions. He brutalized all who crossed him. And he collected their souls, their deaths following him like ghosts. Not that he cared. In reality, he was seeking the same thing everyone else was. Revenge. Something to make him feel better. He was no hero. This isn't that kind of story. Jackie White just wanted to hurt people.
He heard the call. The final battle. He'd dream of getting his hands on him. Pinning him down and showing him who's a real man. Wearing the same gear with that poncho again, he opted to wear white wrist tape and the old bandana this time. It was washed by Ashley, the last favor she did before dying. He didn't bother to wear his armor and pads. All he could think about was Rossi. His death. It was close.
The crowd was gathered at the bottom of Titan Towers. Somebody thought it clever to play POWER as they awaited Ultraviolence. Eventually, poncho blowing in the wind, taking slow steps toward the tower, UV arrived. The people parted as he slowly walked. Not looking at anyone. If anything, they were scared. Scared that he's real. The man who gutted, castrated, burned, and slaughtered people. He had the eyes of a manic, unstoppable. The guards let him through, and he stepped in the elevator, reaching the top.
The air was still, as if they wanted to watch the confrontation too. UV walked through the quiet, dark cubicles to reach Rossi's office. He reached it. The top of the world. Rossi was wearing just a button up and slacks, with the sleeves rolled up. No arms. Jackie removed his Poncho and threw his Glock and knife to the side. Rossi turned. "Ultraviolence. You're smaller than I thought," He joked.
"You crack wise after all this?" UV asked.
Rossi shrugged. "I've been thinking. This entire situation is just hilarious to me. Everyone thinks you're a hero. You're just crazy, man."
"Says you."
"Yes, I say. Because I know what crazy looks like. Do you like hurting people, Ultraviolence?"
Jackie was truthful. Nobody was around. "I do. I love hurting people. Even better when I kill. And you do too."
"Guilty," Rossi said with his hands up, laughing. "Ah, It gets me off to no end. The rush of it all. I see the look. You try to deny it, but let's be real. This was no noble goal."
"I never claimed it to be. This isn't a fucking hero and villian thing, Rossi. I'm a man who's been pushed to a point. And now I want you dead. I'm selfish. Is that what you want to hear? But you dying will make this city a better place."
Rossi shook his head, dumbfounded. "Better? Look outside! You got houses burning! People dropping left and right. You start a riot and I'm the bad one here?! You're delusional. That mask made you think this is a good cause. When I die, the world will keep spinning. Only this time you'll have nothing to do except kick ash."
"We'll see. Get ready."
Rossi stepped to the other side of his desk, staring at each other for a moment.
The two charged, yelling like beasts in a cage. Their bodies collided in a harsh way, grinding against each other as the men tried to fight for control. They grunted as they couldn't get advantage. Rossi moved to thrust his leg into Jackie's stomach, making him bend over. Rossi then threw him head first into the desk, knocking Jackie loopy for a second. He grabbed Jackie by the throat and planted him back first on the desk, attempting to mount and choke him. He struggled, attempting to kick away Rossi as he got between his legs. Eventually, after scratching a bit, grabbed a bit of hair and launched a punch right at Rossi's nose, knocking him to the floor.
Jackie stumbled over and mounted Rossi, getting on top to pound his face in with repeated punches. His face got bloody, but Rossi used his strength to muscle Jackie on his back to get repeated shots to the face, busting his nose as well. Both men struggled for control, with Jackie's hands riding up Rossi's body to pull him off. Rossi grabbed Jackie's hips to keep him still so he could do what he wanted. The two got up, panting. Staring. They wanted more. They wanted each other.
Jackie was leaning against the desk when Rossi slowly started walking over to him, clearly pissed this fight wasn't over. Jackie grabbed a stapler nearby and bashed Rossi on the temple, knocking him loopy. He then grabbed Rossi's hair and rammed it down on the desk with a loud, satisfying thud. Jackie was panting, but it wasn't done. Rossi was bent over the desk, out of it. Jackie walked from behind and again grabbed his hair, pulling him up. His lips were near his ears. He could hear the panting. The slow, inconsistent breathing. He dragged Rossi to the window for all to see. Using the boss' head, he bashed the glass open, letting the shards fall like snow. The wind blew harshly from such a height.
Rossi was panting, smiling as he bled, glass embedded in his face. Jackie had a choice to make. The spotlight was literally on him. What he did next would shape the future of New York. Jackie looked at Rossi, and with a yell, started stomping his face in, driving his foot down until it was paste. The crowd cheered, their wishes coming true. He was dead. It was all over. He walked around until he saw an elevator that he used as an escape, leading to a set of underground tunnels. Where would he go next?