it about three seconds too late. When he heard the sound of the car’s engine behind him, he wheeled around, bringing the Glock up and nearly spilling the bike.
Again, he didn’t have time to shoot. The car was coming straight for his bike and it wasn’t stopping. The headlights were on, glaring directly into his face and momentarily disorienting him. Alex was able to bail at the last minute, leaping from his bike awkwardly. His foot hung up on the seat as the car plowed into the bike, and he went spinning in an almost comical fashion to the pavement.
He sat up at once, bringing the Glock up with him, gasping for breath because the wind had been knocked out of him. The car was backing away from the bike, its front end dented and giving off a mist of steam from under the hood. Alex saw right away that the back of the bike was wrenched and almost obliterated completely. His heart sagged a bit at this, as he’d had that bike for almost five years and loved it more than he had loved some people in his life.
“Stop!” Alex screamed, the sights of the gun now aimed squarely at the passenger window. Rage boiled within him, begging to be let loose.
That’s when he saw that there was only one person behind the wheel. But he knew there had been two people in the car when it had come into the lot. So where in the hell was the other person and—?
Something dry exploded at the back his head. Following the pain that enveloped his head, he smelled wood and dust. One of those damned pallets, he thought, the idea spinning through and out of his head like a dust devil.
When he hit the ground, he saw fragments of one of the pallets all around him. The world went black and red for a moment as fireworks of pain flared in his head.
As he tried to collect his thoughts and senses, he felt a heavy foot come down hard on his back. He was planted firmly to the ground, his chin grinding against the pavement beneath him.
But the weight behind the foot was weak and with a single ferocious wrenching of his body, he was able to move. He shoved the foot away and rolled over just in time to catch a kick to the stomach. Above him, he saw a man that he had never seen before grinning down at him. “Marco figured it would be fun to not kill you outright,” this man said. “It’s time for payback first.”
That’s mistake Number One, asshole, Alex thought.
The thought was cut short by another boot to the gut. Behind him, he heard the car door of the car open and close. A set of feet came towards them, joining in on the beating. Alex looked around the vicinity for the Glock that he had dropped after being hit by the pallet, but couldn’t find it. He then looked up to the new attendant and saw that it was Marco.
“You broke my driving arm,” Marco said, indicating the cast on his right arm. “So I had to hire a driver.”
At the word driver, the other man delivered a hard kick into Alex’s back. It took the wind out of him, but he remained on the ground, trying to figure out his options. So far, the stooge hadn’t shown any real strength, although his attacks came pretty quickly. As for Marco, he moved with the speed of an injured turtle, so he wouldn’t be much of an issue.
“Alright, Larry,” Marco said to his partner in crime. “Stand him up.”
Idiots, Alex thought, amazed at how careless they were being. He sometimes forgot that not everyone was as skilled at fighting as he was. Yes. Please. Get me back on my feet, in an optimal fighting position.
He pretended that the two kicks and the attack with the pallet had hurt him more than they actually had (although, truth be told, his head was still aching and he felt blood trickling down around his ear). When he felt Larry’s hands fall roughly on his shoulders, Alex nonchalantly slid his hand over one of the fragments of the broken pallet that had rested near his head on the ground. He let Larry think that he was
Again, he didn’t have time to shoot. The car was coming straight for his bike and it wasn’t stopping. The headlights were on, glaring directly into his face and momentarily disorienting him. Alex was able to bail at the last minute, leaping from his bike awkwardly. His foot hung up on the seat as the car plowed into the bike, and he went spinning in an almost comical fashion to the pavement.
He sat up at once, bringing the Glock up with him, gasping for breath because the wind had been knocked out of him. The car was backing away from the bike, its front end dented and giving off a mist of steam from under the hood. Alex saw right away that the back of the bike was wrenched and almost obliterated completely. His heart sagged a bit at this, as he’d had that bike for almost five years and loved it more than he had loved some people in his life.
“Stop!” Alex screamed, the sights of the gun now aimed squarely at the passenger window. Rage boiled within him, begging to be let loose.
That’s when he saw that there was only one person behind the wheel. But he knew there had been two people in the car when it had come into the lot. So where in the hell was the other person and—?
Something dry exploded at the back his head. Following the pain that enveloped his head, he smelled wood and dust. One of those damned pallets, he thought, the idea spinning through and out of his head like a dust devil.
When he hit the ground, he saw fragments of one of the pallets all around him. The world went black and red for a moment as fireworks of pain flared in his head.
As he tried to collect his thoughts and senses, he felt a heavy foot come down hard on his back. He was planted firmly to the ground, his chin grinding against the pavement beneath him.
But the weight behind the foot was weak and with a single ferocious wrenching of his body, he was able to move. He shoved the foot away and rolled over just in time to catch a kick to the stomach. Above him, he saw a man that he had never seen before grinning down at him. “Marco figured it would be fun to not kill you outright,” this man said. “It’s time for payback first.”
That’s mistake Number One, asshole, Alex thought.
The thought was cut short by another boot to the gut. Behind him, he heard the car door of the car open and close. A set of feet came towards them, joining in on the beating. Alex looked around the vicinity for the Glock that he had dropped after being hit by the pallet, but couldn’t find it. He then looked up to the new attendant and saw that it was Marco.
“You broke my driving arm,” Marco said, indicating the cast on his right arm. “So I had to hire a driver.”
At the word driver, the other man delivered a hard kick into Alex’s back. It took the wind out of him, but he remained on the ground, trying to figure out his options. So far, the stooge hadn’t shown any real strength, although his attacks came pretty quickly. As for Marco, he moved with the speed of an injured turtle, so he wouldn’t be much of an issue.
“Alright, Larry,” Marco said to his partner in crime. “Stand him up.”
Idiots, Alex thought, amazed at how careless they were being. He sometimes forgot that not everyone was as skilled at fighting as he was. Yes. Please. Get me back on my feet, in an optimal fighting position.
He pretended that the two kicks and the attack with the pallet had hurt him more than they actually had (although, truth be told, his head was still aching and he felt blood trickling down around his ear). When he felt Larry’s hands fall roughly on his shoulders, Alex nonchalantly slid his hand over one of the fragments of the broken pallet that had rested near his head on the ground. He let Larry think that he was
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