76.

  As much as I felt like a cool action hero knocking out that light, that feeling immediately disappeared as I crawled through what was potentially decades of pigeon droppings, feathers, and other muck associated with the verminous creatures of London’s skyline. I was sweating, out of breath, and covered in filth by the time I managed to crawl my way through into the warehouse proper.

  It was one of those old industrial warehouses, essentially just an open floor space divided arbitrarily by large racks, with small cabin-like offices dotted about on the edges. I didn't know what this warehouse had once been, but it had obviously become one of the Syndicate’s drug processing labs in recent years. There was evidence of the chemical processes everywhere, and from the rafters, I had the perfect overview of the warehouse's layout.

  The stench of chemicals bit into and burned up my nose, and I realised now why there were no more pigeons roosting in the roof of the warehouse. Those smells were so acrid and strong that they made my eyes water. I could still hear the battle raging outside, the chatter of guns and the roaring and barking of men, but inside it was quiet. I had to move quickly. I didn’t know how long the pigeons could keep up their barrage, and the longer it took me, the more of them that would be hurt and killed, and the more impossible my escape would become.

  As I peered around from the rafters, I finally saw what I was looking for. Just by the loading bay on the riverside were at least a dozen heavy-looking crates, all piled up one on top of the other in a neat stack that was 4 deep and 3 wide. They had some sort of foreign language printed on them, maybe Mandarin. That had to be the drugs.

  I wormed my way through the dust and grime and discarded pigeon nests until I got my whole body clear of the small opening. The warehouse looked completely deserted. I had expected to see more mercenaries posted up but the place was still and empty. Why were there no guards stationed inside? I looked around and saw that there weren't even any cameras in operation. There were some of those old, dusty CCTV cameras that used to exist back in the day, but none of them looked operational as they were covered in dust and layers of bird droppings. The warehouse floor was dimly lit, with only the fire escape lights on.

  And then I saw him. Black John.

  He moved through the shadows like a man who owned them, broad-shouldered and calm, his dark eyes scanning the warehouse with quiet menace. His hands were clenched, thick-fingered, and scarred. He wasn’t carrying a weapon. But I knew he was armed.

  My heart stuttered. I pressed myself flat against the rafters, peering down at him. Black John paused, turning his head ever so slightly. He wasn’t patrolling and he also wasn’t standing with the typical affectation of someone on guard duty. He was waiting… for me.

  The heavy bandages had been removed from his head, and there was a square of white gauze taped to the back of his head. Even from here, I could see the scorch marks on his neck from where I'd zapped him. He favoured his left arm, but other than that, Black John showed no other signs that he'd gone ten rounds with me. He stood calmly, his body loose, his eyes slowly rolling back and forth.

  The gut wrenching realisation that he had probably cleared the warehouse himself, set in. I'd done more than just hurt Black John; I'd embarrassed him. I'd wounded his professional pride, and he was gonna get his payback in blood, and nobody was gonna get in the way of that. I licked my dry lips under my balaclava, searching, strategizing, and just as I gathered my thoughts and tried to figure out a way to get around Black John, I heard another ripping chatter of automatic gunfire.

  I didn't have time to be clever or strategic. I gritted my teeth and stared at the mercenary. Sometimes in life, you just have to face your problems head-on. For some problems there just isn’t a clever workaround or a cool out of the box solution. Sometimes, an unstoppable force just has to meet an immovable object and the winner is whoever is left standing once the dust settles.

  I shot my Grapple Cord at one of the rafters and then swung myself down to the warehouse floor, dropping the last few feet and making enough noise to warn Black John of my presence. I saw him shift and adjust his coat, staring into the shadows. I tried to ease my racing heart. I was gonna destroy those drugs, whatever it took, and Black John and an army of mercenaries weren’t gonna stop me. I stepped out of the darkness and stood in front of him. He didn’t quite grin but a look of satisfaction crossed his face. He started rolling his shoulders like he was loosening them up.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  "I wondered if you would have the guts to face me again," Black John said. "I was half expecting some little trick.”

  I glowered at Black John.

  “I’m just giving you a chance,” I said, trying to sound stern and authoritative.

  “A chance?” Black John replied, his deep voice rumbling in the emptiness of the warehouse.

  “To leave here with your teeth intact.”

  I don't know where those guts had suddenly appeared from, but I surprised myself. Black John was also clearly impressed. He grinned wolfishly, flashing a single silver canine at me in response.

  "I'm only here for the drugs," I continued. "I don't have to have a problem with you.”

  "Well, you see," Black John replied, shrugging out of his long black coat and tossing it to one side, flexing his brawny shoulders, "I have a problem with you. The drugs are business, this is personal.”

  “What, can’t handle having your ass kicked?” I said, silently wondering why I was trying to goad this animal.

  Black John didn’t take the bait. Instead, he stretched his neck muscles and widened his stance. Well, that was the end of the talking portion of our interaction, I thought. There wasn't much more to say. I shrugged out of my backpack, laying it down softly, and then I pulled Grandad's bat, sending power through it, the Rune activating with a slight hum. Black John eyed it coldly.

  "Just what exactly are you?" he asked me as he undid the buttons on his shirt cuffs.

  I grinned at him, even though he couldn't see it under my balaclava.

  "I’m magic, bitch!" I hurled two Chalk Bombs before he could move, and the battle was on.

  Two long daggers had appeared in Black John's hands seemingly from nowhere. As the Chalk Bombs exploded, I saw him raise his forearms across his eyes. Damn, he did learn quickly. He burst through the cloud of dust like some feral spirit, moving far too quickly for a man of that size. He brought one dagger scything down at me, and I narrowly avoided it. The second took me in the guts before I even had a chance to move. I heard the scratch of the blades across the carapace plates as I lurched to one side. I swung Grandad's bat at him and caught a glancing blow on his hip, unable to land the Rune flush.

  Black John pulled up just in front of me and swung a backhanded swipe with the dagger in his right hand at my face. I ducked under it and threw Grandad's bat in front of me as the second dagger came round to stab me in the throat. The dagger bit into the wood and buried deep enough to get stuck. Black John snarled as his hands became tangled up in the handle and the dagger fell loose from his grip. I pushed him with my shoulder, but I was nowhere near strong enough to actually knock the man over. At best, I was able to push him back and create a bit of space. I hopped back a few steps and yanked his dagger out of Grandad's bat, tossing it to one side. Black John smirked at me and spun the dagger he still had in his hand. I'd noticed, as he went past me before, that he also had a pistol in a holster at his lower back. I needed to be wary of that. Black John had already shown he was lightning quick and a crack shot, and this time he wouldn't be putting them in my torso; he'd be aiming for the head.

  I brought Grandad's bat up in front of me like a broadsword with a two-handed grip, and we slowly circled one another. Black John darted forward again like a fencer, moving in two quick bounds to cover the space between us, jabbing at me with the blade. He was just too quick, too tall and long-limbed. I couldn't get anywhere near him. All I could do was desperately block his stabs or try and dodge them, all the while warily keeping an eye on his other hand to see if it strayed towards the gun. I needed to end this quickly; there was no way I could beat him in a fair one-on-one, and now he was being a lot smarter. Before, he hadn’t been aware of my tricks. Now, he kept his distance. He wouldn't let me grab hold of him or get the Zap Knucks involved. He stabbed and leapt back, stabbed and leapt back, constantly flowing in and out, pushing me around in circles. All it would take was for my feet to get tangled once or for me to be just a second too slow, and he would skewer me.

  As I tried to formulate a plan, Black John suddenly reversed the pattern. He lunged in but then didn't lunge back. Instead, he brought his fist round and punched me square in the side of the head. It felt like getting hit with a baseball bat. My legs wobble beneath me. I swiped the bat ineffectually at him, but he dodged back, not risking it this time, aware that there was something special about my Grandad's bat.

  Instead, he spun around and kicked the wrist that held the bat, and it fell from my nerveless grip. In the same fluid motion, barely missing a step or losing any momentum, he brought his heel around and planted it square in my chest, sending me tumbling backwards, arse over tea kettle. I rolled about three times before I came to a stop in a kneeling position, wheezing and trying to get my breath back.

  "How disappointing," Black John said as he slowly walked towards me, spinning the dagger in his hand. "How could I have been beaten by some rank fucking amateur?"

  I spat blood from my mouth and looked up at him as he raised the dagger, knowing that I was outmatched.

  “Well time to die,” Black John said casually. “Just shut your eyes and it’ll be over quick…”

  Shit. Had I really been beaten so easily?