Vicious88
08-30-2010, 06:41 AM
[This is just a quick short story, perhaps the beginning of a novel (or odd comic book, lol), that I came up with while trying to go to sleep. Typed in Notepad, so excuse formatting, spelling, grammar, and forgive the lack of any subject matter relating to issues outside of the situation within the story -- that's why it's just a snippit, :P -- This is about as raw as it gets]
[Contains some language not suitable for young readers, Parental Discretion is advised. As is deep fried candy bars and a new American Government.]
Eugene ran faster than he'd ever run before, although he had no time to be impressed with himself. The motivation for his momentum came in the form of three rather large men who had no intention of talking out their disagreements peacefully over lunch. This beating which would most likely leave him bleeding to death in the back alleys of downtown New Orleans would be his only reward for stepping up to defend the teen they had been harassing. Dispite the scene presented to spectators as Eugene flew down the streets and allies in desperate search of a police car, courage was not something he lacked... Skill, however, was. Eugene rounded a corner into a long alley at the end of which, un beknownst to him, was a street where two police offers were consoling a woman over a domestic despute case.
Unfortunately, for Eugene, however, luck would just barely elude him, as he would successfully leap over a trash can, but trip and fall over the stray cat that was fleeing from it. The palms of his hands hurt so bad from his attempt to save his face from the fall, that he'd briefly forgotten about being chased untill he was lifted off the ground by the back of his shirt and slammed against a wall. The posture of it all made him feel as if he might be arrested after a brief search, but the assailant rather quickly spun him around and began to threaten him, punching him squarly in the stomach or chest after each insult and threat.
All three men were far more suited for combat than he was, and inbetween the blinding flashes of pain, he found time to be thankful that it was only one of them attacking him. Another was holding him down, and the third was serving as lookout to make sure no one had followed the chase down into the alley.
The man who had been holding him against the wall, released Eugene and watched as he fell to his knees, slumping down on one arm, craddling his wounds with the other. Eugene had been robbed of all the air in his lungs, and could not decide if it was more fitting to cough or gasp. Just then the man infront of him gave Eugene a violent kick in the ribs that made him roll over onto his side and curl into the fetal position. Eugene wished he could fight, but his pain was far too great to allow him to stand, let alone fend off three men twice his size. Chivalry really would be the death of him...
"That's enough! Let him go!" Came a brisk male voice that echoed faintly through the alley.
"Jesus Christ, what is it with you assholes today?!?!" Exclaimed Eugene's attacker.
Eugene looked up and saw a non-desript young man weaing blue jeans and a button up dress shirt. His hair was short and unkempt, and he wore glasses which were losing their tinting to compensate for the lack of sunlight in the alley. Eugene was thankful someone was there, but saddened to see that his fate would be in the hands of someone his same size.
"Go on, kid, get the hell out of there. Heroics is what got this asshole where he is - do you want to end up like him? Do you really want to be a ****ing hero?" The attacker continued, not seeming to want to waste his time on a man who couldn't have been any older than 25.
"A hero?" Replied the man, looking down at his own feet. The tone in his voice seemed to drown out the noises of the city for a moment and attract the full attention of Eugene and his attackers. All seemed silent when the man looked back up and with a faint smile replied, "Why not?"
It was then that the man who had been holding Eugene charged off towards stranger, only to swiftly be taken down by what looked like a very quick strike to the neck and a non-chalant step out of the way of the attack. The stranger never broke eye contact with Eugene's attacker throughout his defense, and in just one step and one strike, the man who'd held Eugene fell forward onto the alley floor. It was then that Eugene noticed, seemingly at the same time as his attacker, that the third member of the group who had been serving as look out, was merely visible as a pair of feeting sticking up from behind a dumpster on the opposite side of the alley.
"Who the **** are you?!" Cried the attacker, as he pulled a pistol from the waist of his coat and pointed it at the stranger.
The stranger, now under the threat of death, slowly raised his hands out to his sides as if to surrender and put them behind his head. "If you fire that, you'll draw the cops, and there's no way to can get your guys out of here in time to get away." Said the stranger calmly, attempting to rationalize with the attacker, but all sense of rationalization, if there had in fact ever been any, had long left the mind of the attacker. His heart was racing at having his two men taken down by a kid in an un-tucked office shirt.
"You think I give a ****?!" Cried the attacker, fighting back the knowledge that the stranger was right and that pulling the trigger would, in fact, be disasterous. Were it not for that realization, he'd have likely already shot the man who's posture was now that of a man who may as well be craddling his head in his hands as he lean back against an invisible wall. The arrogant stranger was right, but still, after all of this, he couldn't simply let them go, or run away and leave his men behind.
"You're still planning on shooting me?" Smiled the stranger, wiping all expression from the attacker's face, as he felt as if his mind had just been violated. "I can't have that..."
There was no gleam of light, or a blur of flying silver. Eugene's eyes never even caught the motion of the strangers arm except to summarize that within the blink of an eye he went from having both hands behind his back, to having his right arm extended, seemingly pointing at the small knife protruding from the attackers shoulder.
The attacker couldn't move. Pain froze his right arm, and nearly froze his entire body, it was as if he could feel himself slipping into shock.
"If you reach for the gun with your other arm, I'll do much worse than paralyze it." Said the stranger, who was now lazily walking towards the attacker and could be seen wielding an additional knife in his hand. "Just. Stay. Still."
With the word "still" the stranger removed the pistol from the attackers hand, and retrieved two additional clips of ammunition from the mans coat. Along with a wallet, from which the stranger took the attacker's money as well as his drivers license. Turning slightly away from the attacker, he faced Eugene. He then leaned in on the attacker enough to make the attacker grimmace with the pain that came from shifting his own body weight, and put his arm over the attacker's shoulds and read from the ID as if reading to a child from a story book.
"Your name is Walter? Really? Huh... Not the name I'd have guessed for some sort of professional bad ······. 'Walter Hendrix'... I guess the last name kind of makes it better, but you don't strike me as the kind of guy who'd appreciate a lot of music."
The stranger than re-assumed his posture and walked over towards Eugene. "Here you go, guy..." He said, setting the ID on the ground in front of him and tapping it as if to ensure that Eugene took note of it. "You're going to need this, because by the time you get somewhere and get an ambulance called, these three assholes will have woken up and run off. Do you have a phone?"
Eugene was completely speechless, largely because of the pain that simply breathing was causing his chest. Eugene could not help his blank stare, because in this pain he did not know for sure if he had his phone or not.
"Hmmm..." Began the stranger "You seem kind of out of it. Oh well, just in case you don't have a phone-" He then walked back over to Walter Hendrix and retrieved a cellphone from his pocket. "Here we are. And this is a nice phone, too. You've got good taste in phones, Walter..." Said the stranger, who then turn around lazily to examine the situation in the alley before continuing, "But you need to find a better hobby. This one's not working out too well for you."
The stranger knelt down and laid the phone on the ground in front of Eugene who was still looking up at him with a blank expression. He explained that it'd be in his best interest to get on his feet as soon as possible and walk a small distance away before calling for help. He had just finished helping Eugene to an upright position, when the sound of a smothered scream make it's way through the clinched teeth of Walter Hendrix, who had managed to get his left arm around enough to attempt to free the knife from his right shoulder, but had been foiled by the pain contacting the knife brought him.
"Don't worry, I'm not going to leave you like that... Those knives are expensive you know... And since I'm a good sport, I'll make it to where you don't have to feel the pain-" And with that the stranger raised Walter's own gun to his forhead. Every muscle in Walter's body clenched in reflex. "I could shoot you, you know that as well as I do." Began the stranger, still holding the gun to Walter's forehead. "But I don't really feel that's necessary, seeing as both that guy over there and I know who you are, 'Walter Hendrix of Royal Street' - so I'll take my knife and let you live, but I want you to understand something. If that man wants to take action against you for what you did here today - he's got my full support. And I know how guys like you tend to think that you're above the law, but let me make something clear to you - if that man decides you need to go to jail for what you did, you'd better just plead guilty and go along with it. Because you have my word that if anything should happen to him I will find you, and will make you suffer a thousand times worse than you're suffering now, until the pain and starvation causes you to die - and it won't just be you suffering either, so remember that if you've got anyone you care enough about to protect... The way I see it, this man here owns you now. He can either send you to jail or let you keep on with your life -- but no matter what he chooses, you need to understand this, you own him your life and if you waste whatever gift of life he gives you after today... You and I will be face to face again somewhere a little more private. Do you understand me, Walter?"
Walter understood full well. He'd been bested and as soon as he could get the hell out of town, that was his plan. No revenge, no schemes, just pack the essentials and get as far away from this psycho as humanly possible.
"Good." The stranger smiled, though his eyes were still as cold as when the gun was against Walter's head. He tucked Walter's gun into his own waist and continued "I'll be keeping this, by the way. You really shouldn't have need of it after today." He then rest his left hand on the knife reaching out of Walters shoulder, and in a pyschoticly soothing voice said, "Sorry, guy, but I'm afraid I can't have you following anyone out of this alley."
Walter's eyes widened as the palm of the stranger's right hand stuck him in the chest, sending him backwards while the knife remained stationary in the strangers other hand. True to the stranger's word, Walter didn't feel the knife exiting his shoulder, and only faintly felt the oddly powerful palm to his chest - but before he had time to fully contemplate the pain, he had blacked out. His last memory before waking up in the alley almost an hour later would be flying backwards and making eye contact with the stranger who looked down on him with an odd mix of sadness and disgust.
As Walter hit the ground unconscious, Eugene began to stumble back through the alley, towards the streets his chase had led him down. He knew the stranger was still standing there, behind him, watching to ensure that nothing else went wrong, but despite Eugene's extreme appreciation over having been saved, the fear of what might happen as a result of making eye contact with the man responsible kept him from turning his head back. He did turn his sights down enough to see that the man who had held him against the wall was apparently knocked unconcious before hitting the ground, as he'd made no efforts to save himself from the fall. Same for the man who's feet were sticking out from behind the dumpster - he lay there in a heap, with his neck and head nearly paralyl to his shoulders. Eugene found himself wondering if his 'hero' had just killed three men, and actually robbed one of them...
[Contains some language not suitable for young readers, Parental Discretion is advised. As is deep fried candy bars and a new American Government.]
Eugene ran faster than he'd ever run before, although he had no time to be impressed with himself. The motivation for his momentum came in the form of three rather large men who had no intention of talking out their disagreements peacefully over lunch. This beating which would most likely leave him bleeding to death in the back alleys of downtown New Orleans would be his only reward for stepping up to defend the teen they had been harassing. Dispite the scene presented to spectators as Eugene flew down the streets and allies in desperate search of a police car, courage was not something he lacked... Skill, however, was. Eugene rounded a corner into a long alley at the end of which, un beknownst to him, was a street where two police offers were consoling a woman over a domestic despute case.
Unfortunately, for Eugene, however, luck would just barely elude him, as he would successfully leap over a trash can, but trip and fall over the stray cat that was fleeing from it. The palms of his hands hurt so bad from his attempt to save his face from the fall, that he'd briefly forgotten about being chased untill he was lifted off the ground by the back of his shirt and slammed against a wall. The posture of it all made him feel as if he might be arrested after a brief search, but the assailant rather quickly spun him around and began to threaten him, punching him squarly in the stomach or chest after each insult and threat.
All three men were far more suited for combat than he was, and inbetween the blinding flashes of pain, he found time to be thankful that it was only one of them attacking him. Another was holding him down, and the third was serving as lookout to make sure no one had followed the chase down into the alley.
The man who had been holding him against the wall, released Eugene and watched as he fell to his knees, slumping down on one arm, craddling his wounds with the other. Eugene had been robbed of all the air in his lungs, and could not decide if it was more fitting to cough or gasp. Just then the man infront of him gave Eugene a violent kick in the ribs that made him roll over onto his side and curl into the fetal position. Eugene wished he could fight, but his pain was far too great to allow him to stand, let alone fend off three men twice his size. Chivalry really would be the death of him...
"That's enough! Let him go!" Came a brisk male voice that echoed faintly through the alley.
"Jesus Christ, what is it with you assholes today?!?!" Exclaimed Eugene's attacker.
Eugene looked up and saw a non-desript young man weaing blue jeans and a button up dress shirt. His hair was short and unkempt, and he wore glasses which were losing their tinting to compensate for the lack of sunlight in the alley. Eugene was thankful someone was there, but saddened to see that his fate would be in the hands of someone his same size.
"Go on, kid, get the hell out of there. Heroics is what got this asshole where he is - do you want to end up like him? Do you really want to be a ****ing hero?" The attacker continued, not seeming to want to waste his time on a man who couldn't have been any older than 25.
"A hero?" Replied the man, looking down at his own feet. The tone in his voice seemed to drown out the noises of the city for a moment and attract the full attention of Eugene and his attackers. All seemed silent when the man looked back up and with a faint smile replied, "Why not?"
It was then that the man who had been holding Eugene charged off towards stranger, only to swiftly be taken down by what looked like a very quick strike to the neck and a non-chalant step out of the way of the attack. The stranger never broke eye contact with Eugene's attacker throughout his defense, and in just one step and one strike, the man who'd held Eugene fell forward onto the alley floor. It was then that Eugene noticed, seemingly at the same time as his attacker, that the third member of the group who had been serving as look out, was merely visible as a pair of feeting sticking up from behind a dumpster on the opposite side of the alley.
"Who the **** are you?!" Cried the attacker, as he pulled a pistol from the waist of his coat and pointed it at the stranger.
The stranger, now under the threat of death, slowly raised his hands out to his sides as if to surrender and put them behind his head. "If you fire that, you'll draw the cops, and there's no way to can get your guys out of here in time to get away." Said the stranger calmly, attempting to rationalize with the attacker, but all sense of rationalization, if there had in fact ever been any, had long left the mind of the attacker. His heart was racing at having his two men taken down by a kid in an un-tucked office shirt.
"You think I give a ****?!" Cried the attacker, fighting back the knowledge that the stranger was right and that pulling the trigger would, in fact, be disasterous. Were it not for that realization, he'd have likely already shot the man who's posture was now that of a man who may as well be craddling his head in his hands as he lean back against an invisible wall. The arrogant stranger was right, but still, after all of this, he couldn't simply let them go, or run away and leave his men behind.
"You're still planning on shooting me?" Smiled the stranger, wiping all expression from the attacker's face, as he felt as if his mind had just been violated. "I can't have that..."
There was no gleam of light, or a blur of flying silver. Eugene's eyes never even caught the motion of the strangers arm except to summarize that within the blink of an eye he went from having both hands behind his back, to having his right arm extended, seemingly pointing at the small knife protruding from the attackers shoulder.
The attacker couldn't move. Pain froze his right arm, and nearly froze his entire body, it was as if he could feel himself slipping into shock.
"If you reach for the gun with your other arm, I'll do much worse than paralyze it." Said the stranger, who was now lazily walking towards the attacker and could be seen wielding an additional knife in his hand. "Just. Stay. Still."
With the word "still" the stranger removed the pistol from the attackers hand, and retrieved two additional clips of ammunition from the mans coat. Along with a wallet, from which the stranger took the attacker's money as well as his drivers license. Turning slightly away from the attacker, he faced Eugene. He then leaned in on the attacker enough to make the attacker grimmace with the pain that came from shifting his own body weight, and put his arm over the attacker's shoulds and read from the ID as if reading to a child from a story book.
"Your name is Walter? Really? Huh... Not the name I'd have guessed for some sort of professional bad ······. 'Walter Hendrix'... I guess the last name kind of makes it better, but you don't strike me as the kind of guy who'd appreciate a lot of music."
The stranger than re-assumed his posture and walked over towards Eugene. "Here you go, guy..." He said, setting the ID on the ground in front of him and tapping it as if to ensure that Eugene took note of it. "You're going to need this, because by the time you get somewhere and get an ambulance called, these three assholes will have woken up and run off. Do you have a phone?"
Eugene was completely speechless, largely because of the pain that simply breathing was causing his chest. Eugene could not help his blank stare, because in this pain he did not know for sure if he had his phone or not.
"Hmmm..." Began the stranger "You seem kind of out of it. Oh well, just in case you don't have a phone-" He then walked back over to Walter Hendrix and retrieved a cellphone from his pocket. "Here we are. And this is a nice phone, too. You've got good taste in phones, Walter..." Said the stranger, who then turn around lazily to examine the situation in the alley before continuing, "But you need to find a better hobby. This one's not working out too well for you."
The stranger knelt down and laid the phone on the ground in front of Eugene who was still looking up at him with a blank expression. He explained that it'd be in his best interest to get on his feet as soon as possible and walk a small distance away before calling for help. He had just finished helping Eugene to an upright position, when the sound of a smothered scream make it's way through the clinched teeth of Walter Hendrix, who had managed to get his left arm around enough to attempt to free the knife from his right shoulder, but had been foiled by the pain contacting the knife brought him.
"Don't worry, I'm not going to leave you like that... Those knives are expensive you know... And since I'm a good sport, I'll make it to where you don't have to feel the pain-" And with that the stranger raised Walter's own gun to his forhead. Every muscle in Walter's body clenched in reflex. "I could shoot you, you know that as well as I do." Began the stranger, still holding the gun to Walter's forehead. "But I don't really feel that's necessary, seeing as both that guy over there and I know who you are, 'Walter Hendrix of Royal Street' - so I'll take my knife and let you live, but I want you to understand something. If that man wants to take action against you for what you did here today - he's got my full support. And I know how guys like you tend to think that you're above the law, but let me make something clear to you - if that man decides you need to go to jail for what you did, you'd better just plead guilty and go along with it. Because you have my word that if anything should happen to him I will find you, and will make you suffer a thousand times worse than you're suffering now, until the pain and starvation causes you to die - and it won't just be you suffering either, so remember that if you've got anyone you care enough about to protect... The way I see it, this man here owns you now. He can either send you to jail or let you keep on with your life -- but no matter what he chooses, you need to understand this, you own him your life and if you waste whatever gift of life he gives you after today... You and I will be face to face again somewhere a little more private. Do you understand me, Walter?"
Walter understood full well. He'd been bested and as soon as he could get the hell out of town, that was his plan. No revenge, no schemes, just pack the essentials and get as far away from this psycho as humanly possible.
"Good." The stranger smiled, though his eyes were still as cold as when the gun was against Walter's head. He tucked Walter's gun into his own waist and continued "I'll be keeping this, by the way. You really shouldn't have need of it after today." He then rest his left hand on the knife reaching out of Walters shoulder, and in a pyschoticly soothing voice said, "Sorry, guy, but I'm afraid I can't have you following anyone out of this alley."
Walter's eyes widened as the palm of the stranger's right hand stuck him in the chest, sending him backwards while the knife remained stationary in the strangers other hand. True to the stranger's word, Walter didn't feel the knife exiting his shoulder, and only faintly felt the oddly powerful palm to his chest - but before he had time to fully contemplate the pain, he had blacked out. His last memory before waking up in the alley almost an hour later would be flying backwards and making eye contact with the stranger who looked down on him with an odd mix of sadness and disgust.
As Walter hit the ground unconscious, Eugene began to stumble back through the alley, towards the streets his chase had led him down. He knew the stranger was still standing there, behind him, watching to ensure that nothing else went wrong, but despite Eugene's extreme appreciation over having been saved, the fear of what might happen as a result of making eye contact with the man responsible kept him from turning his head back. He did turn his sights down enough to see that the man who had held him against the wall was apparently knocked unconcious before hitting the ground, as he'd made no efforts to save himself from the fall. Same for the man who's feet were sticking out from behind the dumpster - he lay there in a heap, with his neck and head nearly paralyl to his shoulders. Eugene found himself wondering if his 'hero' had just killed three men, and actually robbed one of them...