83.
I've already said that fighting more than two people at once was a fool's errand, and fighting six or seven single-handedly was an impossible feat you only saw in films. Fighting a group of near-terrified and armed teens in the pitch black in a narrow tunnel was an entirely different experience. With adrenaline coursing through their bodies and fear making them rash and wild, the group leapt, but at what they had no idea. Instead, they just converged on the golden-chained boy, shouting and swinging their bats, sticks, and poles with wild abandon.
There's a reason why soldiers and trained fighters generally tend to move in formations next to each other rather than in front, because friendly fire is a real thing and it hurts. Bats bounced off the back of heads, sticks hit ribs, and fists pummeled friendly faces. They fought in the darkness, tripping over one another while screaming and cursing. I felt like Bugs Bunny crawling out of the melee. So far, only the golden-chained boy had actually managed to hit me. Maybe a couple of the others had gotten close, but they were mainly hitting each other and the walls.
I freed myself from the rumble and got to my feet before turning back to the group. Unsheathing Grandad's bat, I adjusted my goggles, and took three Bang Rocks from my pocket, throwing them at their feet. They exploded, sending the boys screaming and jumping in the air. I took two down quickly, one after the other. One I caught in the back with Grandad's bat, sending him headfirst into the tunnel wall and knocking him unconscious. The other got a left fist full of Zap Knuck that sent him down convulsing.
One thing I hadn't realized was that the Zap Knucks set off a light of their own. They gave off a crackling blue electricity that sporadically lit the tunnel. That had two effects: it showed them exactly where I was, and it sent them into a wild panic. Two of the goons turned and ran. The golden-chained boy tried to rally the remaining thugs and charged at me, wielding a small knife. He raised it overhead dramatically, and I took the opening and uppercutted him. He caught a face full of Shock Rune. Volts pounded through his jaw so hard he spat drool over my face, and then fell to the floor twitching.
The other two tried their best, but they were poorly trained and too scared to be effective. One managed to catch me across the upper arm with his bat, and I grunted before striking back with my own bat, jabbing him in the throat. Then I lashed out with a boot and caught him full in the chest, knocking him over. The final goon looked at his fallen comrades and then he too turned and ran.
I sheathed Grandad's bat, bent down, and grabbed the golden-chained boy, dragging him into the light at the end of the tunnel. He opened his eyes meekly and looked up at me, fear painted across his chubby features. I bent down, sticking my balaclava-covered face close to his.
"I would believe everything you've heard, and I wouldn't be on the streets anymore if I were you because I'll remember your face. And I will come back for you."
“Too late… for you…” he gasped, blood bubbling down his lips.
“What?” I said.
Shakily, he raised his arm and showed me his WristPod. There was an alert on there… he’d sent out his location!
“You’re fucked magic boy,” he sputtered, his laughter turning to choking.
“Shit!” I threw the thug down and turned towards the end of the tunnel, ignoring my aches and pains, as I forced my body into a sprint.
I needed to get to the fire escape!
If I could get to the roofs there was no way these thugs could catch me. I sprinted out of the tunnel and made a beeline for the fire escape on the side of the tall yellow brick. Just as my foot touched the bottom step there was a rip of automatic gun fire. I hurled myself forward over the railing and into the ever present pile of trash at the foot of the stairs. Bullets ricocheted all around me, clanging on metal and putting holes in the brickwork.
I rolled through the pile of trash and threw myself behind one of the large, solid metal bins. More bullets slammed into it, but whoever was shooting at me wasn’t a crackshot, they were just spraying. I peeked the side of the bin closest to the wall and could make out two dark outlines in the tunnel. They were staying in the shadows, guns trained on me, but more importantly, with a direct eyeline on the fire escape. They knew what I wanted to do and knew they could keep me pinned here.
I slipped my Wrist Rocket from my pocket, preparing to shoot it out with them, when I heard the sound of pounding feet coming down the alleyway to my right. They were trying to surround me! I had to move! I touched the metal bin, activated the Magnet Runes on my palms, and pulled the bin. It screeched and then it began moving. The shooters in the alleyway took a couple more pot shots at the bin. The heavy metal bin gained momentum as I pushed it. I only had one escape route and that was the alleyway behind me. Keeping the bin between me and the shooters, I inched backwards and was almost at the alleyway when the goons who were flanking me burst out of the alleyway.
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I let go of the bin, turned, and sprinted. I caught a glimpse of maybe 8 or 9 bodies flying out of the alleyway, armed and howling in excitement.
“There he is! Get him! Get him!”
“Don’t let him get away!”
“Fucking kill him!”
I put on an extra spurt of speed, fear powering my legs. I had to get out of the warren of alleyways, they were too cramped with too many chances for ambush. We were back in my part of the Estate and I knew it like the back of my hand. I threw a sharp left and then a right but the goons were gaining on me. They were fresh and excited while I was battered and tiring quickly. I stumbled over an unseen bit of detritus in the alley, and the frontrunners were on me. I felt something heavy slam into my lower back, and then we were fighting. It was a dirty, frantic scuffle. There was no skill here, just wild limbs flailing. One of the goons grabbed my hood, pulling it down over my face, while the other one thumped me with a heavy bat. I was throwing punches at anything that I could get hold of, sending as much force through the Knucks as I had left. The goons yelped and danced about giving me enough space to turn and run again just as the rest of the mob joined.
We spilled out onto a main four way junction with cars zipping by. I turned and elbowed one of the goons who had got hold of my jacket before running out into traffic. One of my pursuers kicked my feet out and I fell face first onto the tarmac, right in the middle of the junction. I heard car brakes screeching as the onboard AIs detected my body. Cars smashed into each other. Several of my pursuers were run over. It was carnage. But in the middle of it all was me, curled up, with my hands over my head.
Eventually, I cracked open my eyes and saw the grill of a car a foot from my face. Horns were blaring and people were screaming all around me. There were two other bodies on the floor, not moving, and a ring of motionless cars with terrified and angry drivers sitting in them. I blinked and rolled over, just in time to see a figure in a balaclava leap over the car’s bonnet and bring a hatchet down towards my face. I yelped and threw myself to one side.
The chase was back on. I leapt to my feet and barreled over a stalled car, the owner cursing at me with his windows rolled up. I staggered onto the pavement in front of one of those old picturesque pubs with frosted windows and potted plants hanging up outside. Old pubs like this had become almost extinct in New London, what with the rocketing taxes on alcohol and the premiums for running such an establishment.
The hatchet wielding thug swiped at my face again and I threw myself backwards. He recovered his momentum and booted me hard. I was thrown backwards off my feet, straight through the window of the pub. I landed on a table and sent chairs flying in a rain of smashed glass.
“Oi! What’re you doing?” the irate barmen cried out.
My only response was a pained groan. The goon with the hatchet climbed through the window after me. I rolled backwards off the table and pulled out Grandad’s bat. Suddenly, we were both surrounded by the clientele of the pub. They were all squash nosed, shaved headed, thuggish looking types and they weren’t happy we had smashed in their window.
“Do you know whose pub this is?” One of them asked, levelling a snooker cue at us.
“Fuck off old man, before you get hurt,” the hatchet thug spat at him.
The doors burst open and the rest of the pack that had been chasing me flooded into the pub and chaos erupted. It turned out the drinkers were more than up for a bit of pointless violence and they had certainly taken umbrage to us destroying their favourite pub. The two groups met like waves in the sea, crashing into one another with a lot of shouting and swearing and saying things like: ‘come on then’ and ‘who wants it?’
Fists, feet, barstools, and teeth went flying. I swung my bat at the hatchet thug catching him on the shoulder but the Rune didn’t activate and he was only knocked over onto the cushioned booth. He kicked me in the hip as I advanced on him and I was sent into the sprawling mass of bodies. Someone punched me in the back of the head and a body went sprawling, becoming tangled in my feet. I stumbled and grabbed hold of the bar to stop myself from falling.
I had to get out of here. I couldn’t tell who was winning, but I was sure that I didn’t want to stick around and face whoever was left standing. I sheathed Grandad’s bat and leapt onto the bar. I fished in my pocket and pulled out a Chalk Bomb, throwing it over my shoulder at the brawlers. There was an explosion of powder. I thought that would slow down the brawl but it only made things more chaotic. Men were wildly swinging at each other completely blind. People were being knocked out by punches they never saw coming. Others were choking on mouthfuls of chalk as they clawed dust from their eyes.
I shrugged and ran along the bar, hopping off at the end and running out of the door, leaving the chaos behind me. I sighed in relief, looking over my shoulder to ensure no one was pursuing me as I rounded the corner. I’d gotten away. Now I just need to…
A dark figure swooped around the corner and sprayed something in my face. I was blinded and my body went numb. A bag was shoved over my head and my world went dark. I felt my feet yanked out from under me and my hands were forced behind my back. I fought hard but the hands were too strong and I was growing weaker by the second. I heard the screech of tires and then the sound of a van door being thrown open. I was tossed inside like a sack of potatoes with my hands and feet bound. Then I heard the door slam shut and the tires screeching as the van took off with me in the back.
Then my world went dark.
Would you turn Alex in for ￡200k?
