Rage recoil: Golden Punch


The conversation went on for another while. It got a bit awkward a few times, but we didn’t mind at all. He then brought me to the restaurant in Owl Street. I knew I still had a duty, but after all, I wasn’t trying to leave the street. I would be able to be on time this time when the lyncher stuck. Also, Alice wasn’t here yet. The reasoning sounded like a pathetic excuse. I just ignored it at the time.


The restaurant we went to was quite a daily one. When he said he wanted to surprise me, I thought he was considering taking me to one of those with candles and costly foods that weren’t enough to eat. I ordered a steak, and he chose to have some lamb chop. I constantly glanced at him after the dishes were served. I could tell he was trying to find something to chat about while eating but struggled. Well, it could also simply be me projecting what I wanted on him.


“What does your lamb taste like?” I asked while chewing a piece of my steak before the lamb on his fork was put in his mouth.


“You, you want to try it?” The lamb didn’t go into his mouth.


“Yeah,” I finished chewing and opened my mouth widely.


It would be embarrassing if he didn’t take the action. It would be complex if he took the action.


I closed my eyes like I was escaping from something. At that moment, I felt the tiredness got back on me. Those bad things and complicated things again occupied my brain. I sank back into my internal quicksand. Suddenly, I felt something went into my mouth. It was the lamb. I had to say that the lamb was beyond good. It, in fact, surprised me when I bit down and realized how juicy it was. I closed my mouth and stared at Richard. He stared back at me with those flushes on his cheeks. After a few seconds, he looked away with his cheeks still flushed. My grin was never sweeter that I could sense it myself. Magically, I, for once, enjoyed complexity.


Fragrant silence and sweet awkwardness were the side dish of that meal. The vibe would be better if we were having dinner, but this was enough for me.


With the last piece of meat going down his throat, Richard asked me, “You want to hang out another time? Maybe…… tomorrow?”


I just stared at him while he was talking.


“Yeah, of course, but tomorrow isn’t…….” I couldn’t find a good way to put it. I still needed to deal with that lyncher. I swore I would find Richard after the lyncher was put in jail.


“No, no problem. Uh, I live in the only apartment on the street. Third floor. Number three. Just,” he inhaled a breath of air because of nervousness, “come to find me when you have time.”


I repeated his address and followed with another burst smile.


“I will be waiting for you.”


“I know,” I promised with my life that I would finish the job and hang out with Richard again. I swore to god I meant it.


Rage recoil: Knight Bat


I used my invisible module to get into the building. It was a nightclub next to a ghetto. I wondered why didn’t I notice how suspicious this was.


The building was closed but full of people that were probably gangsters with different ranks and roles. I made my way to the big cellar below the second underground floor. There was an electronic lock on the door connecting the cellar and the second underground floor. I opened it with my special key card that could open any electronic lock on Earth. Yet, Hank wouldn’t be able to open it without breaking the lock and triggering all the alarm sirens. I knew Hank too much that I could easily tell that he wouldn’t start anything without planning and mapping out everything. I just needed to wait in this cellar for Hank to trigger the alarm. I wasn’t really worrying about Hannah because she was the type that could never sneak into any building. Although I was probably the same kind, my armor was multifunctional enough for me to do many things I wasn’t capable of.


The cellar was a bigger room with dozens of shelves and crates on shelves. The cellar had no light on, but the goggle piece on my helmet had night vision. I could see things in the lightless cellar like I was under the sun. It was a part of my plan. Fighting in a place where I was the only one that could see would grant me the upper hand, especially when the enemy was the kind that needed to aim, like Hank.


I sat on the floor against one of the shelves. My eyes were enclosed, and my brain was now brawling with my drowsiness. Spending the whole last night assembling my armor left no energy in me. Eventually, I decided that It wasn’t too bad to have some sleep before the important fight. After all, I could set a digital alarm clock in the armor to wake me up when Hank got in, so I let the drowsiness do its thing.


I was too tired that I could feel the progress of my consciousness melting away. Suddenly, a shout got all my nerves back in place. The night vision was one. Two batons appeared in my hands after a glint of yellow light. I stood up immediately and held the batons in front of me.


“Cool down, girl. Not an enemy.” The sound was from a middle-aged man. He was, under my estimation, at least five years younger than Hank. He was now standing in front of me. He was wearing full black with a ballistic vest on his chest and a clown mask on his face. His gun was on the ground right next to him.


“Who are you?” I was certain that he wasn’t here to harm me, but I still needed my vigilance to be on.


“Just a man that will help you accomplish your goal.”


“What do you care about my goal?”


“That man has to stop.”


“Who sent you?”


“Someone you don’t want to bother with.”


“No gangs scare me. Tell me, or I’ll make you tell me.”


“So heroes nowadays all adopt the idea of forced confession?”


He caught me right there. I tried to form another sentence, but I really had no excuse for what I just said. I wasn’t supposed to say what I just said. How could I save Hank from what he was doing if I myself joined him?


He made an irritating scornful snigger and said, “he would be here soon.” He held up his phone and showed a message he just sent to another account. I couldn’t tell what that account was for, but I did see the last message, “Come to the cellar of the nightclub. What you want is here.” and the second last message, “Come to Owl Street number five. The Italian gangs were waiting. As fast as possible.”


About the author

Nelsoa the Storyteller

  • BlackLion


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