Post by Toadkiller Dog on Jul 6, 2009 13:44:46 GMT
I've trained for days and nights, many long nights for this first outing. Everything I've put my body through will be put to the test tonight. Four long grueling years. I've worked myself to the bone. An early high school dream made reality, at least that's what I'm hoping. Will I make the cut, will I pass the preliminary?
It's raining heavily, the kind of rain that makes the best of nights seem glum and dreary. Not too many people out in this kind of downpour, they're smart. I know though, evil never sleeps, water doesn't make the bad guys melt away like the wicked witch of the West. The rain beats furiously over the top of my wide brimmed fedora, running over it's sides like a singing waterfall. It sings a sad song of remorse, trying desperately to lull me out of this foolish act. It apologizes, begging for my reasoning, promising a safe, dry place back home.
The melody falls on deaf ears. My eyes can see clearly through the flowing falls before them. They take in the mountain before them. Looming, dark, ominous and somehow strangely alluring. A mountain I am determined to climb, despite everything in me begging not to. The song becomes louder, it's too late now. They notice me walking on the far side of their alley. Their turf, their mountain, not mine to climb. They begin to approach, no hurry to their step, for their prey does not falter, nor does it flee. Three to one, small time hoods. Dressed in now soaked sports jerseys and baggy jeans.
It is not strange that they are out, weather means little to them. They arrive, beginning to surround me. Two of the three are grinning. One grabs my right arm, pulling it back slightly, and the one closest to my face speaks. He thinks I'm lost, thinks I don't know where I'm at. Thinks I'm in the wrong place at the wrong time.
I know exactly where I am.
He is cut short as my right elbow smashes into the one behind me's mouth, I can literally feel teeth giving way. A hard, straight right kick blows the wind out of the speaker's lungs, sending him to his back in the puddles of the filthy alleyway.
The grip has loosened on my arm, the punk behind me reeling, holding a cupped hand over his face. I turn in time, just like my training has allowed as the last man standing rushes, surprised, enraged. He's fast, I catch half of his lead pipe with my left forearm. The pain is intense, my teeth grit so hard I fear they may shatter. A slight numbness sets in, I surprise my attacker as much as myself as I swallow the searing pain and send a sharp hook across the bridge of his nose. His head thrashes to the side, the blood already beginning to run from his nostrils, a look of agony upon his face.
I follow up with another elbow, covering back over the already wounded nose, it drives square and hard, the guy actually cuts loose a nasally cry. The leader, the speaker rushes me from the right side, a switchblade glinting in his hand. I am prepared fully this time, I sidestep the swipe, letting the bastard's own whiffing blow throw him off balance, as I catch his knife wielding arm at the wrist, twisting his whole body from that angle, catching the joint in a sharp lock from his own momentum. The wrist cracks, audibly, the blade dangles from his now limp fingers for a moment before clattering to the ground.
Keeping my grip on his wrist I kick in his kneecap, he falls to his knees with a loud grunt, and I rear back for as much force and velocity as I can muster for the backhand that sends him into a ninety degree angle, collapsing face first into the quickly building river of a stream below.
This is what I've trained for...the thought is broken however, no sense of accomplishment as the forgotten assailant, now missing his front teeth strikes. A shoulder check, it bring me to my hands and knees, taking off my fedora in the impact. I stare at my own reflection for a brief moment in the rain drenched street below, my eyes wild, a small trickle of blood running from my lower lip, as I bit it taking the fall. The looming shadow creeps into view in my reflection as I roll to the side, my adversary kicking at air where I'd been a split second before, the foot breezing past my face. He's better than the other two, catching the second wind just as quickly as myself, and lunging to pummel my prone form.
I catch his falling form, taking the brunt of a forearm to my face, as i use my knee and both of my own forearms to hold him up. Intense pain tears through my left arm and into my shoulder, it's strength waning. Using my good arm and my foot I flip the fellow overhead, he topples behind me in a heap.
Rolling again to my side, I push myself up against the brick wall I'd started out near. The bastard is already on his feet too, he's a tough son of a bitch, big, muscular. He calls me a motherfucker as he attempts to lunge at me again. I catch his incoming blow, a sloppy straight with my forehead, as I throwout the headbutt. It stings a bit, but I show no sign of it as I sweep him off his feet with a leg hook. He falls flat, legs spread before me, and I take no time deciding to play on the weakness present, driving the toe of my combat boot with every ounce of force capable of me into his groin. He howls in agony. I smile faintly, taking the time to pick up his fallen friend's pipe. His eyes close on the second shot from it, batting into the side of his skull.
I'm panting, worn out, feeling torn apart. I glance at the other two thugs, both still writhing and squirming. Retrieving my fedora, placing it back over my matted brown hair. The rain has managed to penetrate my tan trench coat by now. The throbbing pain of my left arm reminds me that while I've passed the test, it was not with exceptional marks.
"Wrong place, wrong time."
I sputter through clenched teeth at the leader, kicking him in the ribs as I walk past him, out of the alley and back into the bright lights of the New York night life.
Still so much training left. Not good enough.
My ran down apartment, with the leaky bathroom never seemed to warm and welcoming as tonight. I let the rain soaked trench coat slide off my shoulders, wincing as it slides over the left, to the floor, tossing the equally soused fedora hat along with it. My body collapses eagerly to the dirty mattress that lays on my floor. My broken left arm cradled at my chest. I'm in need of medical treatment, one thing I never truly trained for. It will come, with the light of day, it will come.
I do not sleep tonight. Visions of my first patrol running rampantly through my mind as i lay still on my back. The first test is complete, but there is so much studying left, so much...
It's raining heavily, the kind of rain that makes the best of nights seem glum and dreary. Not too many people out in this kind of downpour, they're smart. I know though, evil never sleeps, water doesn't make the bad guys melt away like the wicked witch of the West. The rain beats furiously over the top of my wide brimmed fedora, running over it's sides like a singing waterfall. It sings a sad song of remorse, trying desperately to lull me out of this foolish act. It apologizes, begging for my reasoning, promising a safe, dry place back home.
The melody falls on deaf ears. My eyes can see clearly through the flowing falls before them. They take in the mountain before them. Looming, dark, ominous and somehow strangely alluring. A mountain I am determined to climb, despite everything in me begging not to. The song becomes louder, it's too late now. They notice me walking on the far side of their alley. Their turf, their mountain, not mine to climb. They begin to approach, no hurry to their step, for their prey does not falter, nor does it flee. Three to one, small time hoods. Dressed in now soaked sports jerseys and baggy jeans.
It is not strange that they are out, weather means little to them. They arrive, beginning to surround me. Two of the three are grinning. One grabs my right arm, pulling it back slightly, and the one closest to my face speaks. He thinks I'm lost, thinks I don't know where I'm at. Thinks I'm in the wrong place at the wrong time.
I know exactly where I am.
He is cut short as my right elbow smashes into the one behind me's mouth, I can literally feel teeth giving way. A hard, straight right kick blows the wind out of the speaker's lungs, sending him to his back in the puddles of the filthy alleyway.
The grip has loosened on my arm, the punk behind me reeling, holding a cupped hand over his face. I turn in time, just like my training has allowed as the last man standing rushes, surprised, enraged. He's fast, I catch half of his lead pipe with my left forearm. The pain is intense, my teeth grit so hard I fear they may shatter. A slight numbness sets in, I surprise my attacker as much as myself as I swallow the searing pain and send a sharp hook across the bridge of his nose. His head thrashes to the side, the blood already beginning to run from his nostrils, a look of agony upon his face.
I follow up with another elbow, covering back over the already wounded nose, it drives square and hard, the guy actually cuts loose a nasally cry. The leader, the speaker rushes me from the right side, a switchblade glinting in his hand. I am prepared fully this time, I sidestep the swipe, letting the bastard's own whiffing blow throw him off balance, as I catch his knife wielding arm at the wrist, twisting his whole body from that angle, catching the joint in a sharp lock from his own momentum. The wrist cracks, audibly, the blade dangles from his now limp fingers for a moment before clattering to the ground.
Keeping my grip on his wrist I kick in his kneecap, he falls to his knees with a loud grunt, and I rear back for as much force and velocity as I can muster for the backhand that sends him into a ninety degree angle, collapsing face first into the quickly building river of a stream below.
This is what I've trained for...the thought is broken however, no sense of accomplishment as the forgotten assailant, now missing his front teeth strikes. A shoulder check, it bring me to my hands and knees, taking off my fedora in the impact. I stare at my own reflection for a brief moment in the rain drenched street below, my eyes wild, a small trickle of blood running from my lower lip, as I bit it taking the fall. The looming shadow creeps into view in my reflection as I roll to the side, my adversary kicking at air where I'd been a split second before, the foot breezing past my face. He's better than the other two, catching the second wind just as quickly as myself, and lunging to pummel my prone form.
I catch his falling form, taking the brunt of a forearm to my face, as i use my knee and both of my own forearms to hold him up. Intense pain tears through my left arm and into my shoulder, it's strength waning. Using my good arm and my foot I flip the fellow overhead, he topples behind me in a heap.
Rolling again to my side, I push myself up against the brick wall I'd started out near. The bastard is already on his feet too, he's a tough son of a bitch, big, muscular. He calls me a motherfucker as he attempts to lunge at me again. I catch his incoming blow, a sloppy straight with my forehead, as I throwout the headbutt. It stings a bit, but I show no sign of it as I sweep him off his feet with a leg hook. He falls flat, legs spread before me, and I take no time deciding to play on the weakness present, driving the toe of my combat boot with every ounce of force capable of me into his groin. He howls in agony. I smile faintly, taking the time to pick up his fallen friend's pipe. His eyes close on the second shot from it, batting into the side of his skull.
I'm panting, worn out, feeling torn apart. I glance at the other two thugs, both still writhing and squirming. Retrieving my fedora, placing it back over my matted brown hair. The rain has managed to penetrate my tan trench coat by now. The throbbing pain of my left arm reminds me that while I've passed the test, it was not with exceptional marks.
"Wrong place, wrong time."
I sputter through clenched teeth at the leader, kicking him in the ribs as I walk past him, out of the alley and back into the bright lights of the New York night life.
Still so much training left. Not good enough.
My ran down apartment, with the leaky bathroom never seemed to warm and welcoming as tonight. I let the rain soaked trench coat slide off my shoulders, wincing as it slides over the left, to the floor, tossing the equally soused fedora hat along with it. My body collapses eagerly to the dirty mattress that lays on my floor. My broken left arm cradled at my chest. I'm in need of medical treatment, one thing I never truly trained for. It will come, with the light of day, it will come.
I do not sleep tonight. Visions of my first patrol running rampantly through my mind as i lay still on my back. The first test is complete, but there is so much studying left, so much...