Black Out

10:12- McD - Bellevue

by McD

McD looked around the pitch blackness that surrounded him. “Chummer, when you step in it, you step in it big-time.”

He had been on the monorail leading into downtown Seattle when the power outage had hit. The lights had flickered, died, and the bullet-train had come to a screeching halt, right in the middle of the track. McD had helped the rescue workers extricate people, but that hadn’t been the least of his worries. When he looked around, using the light of the stars to help his low-light vision, he had realized that he was in Mafia territory. Unfortunately, McD and the Family had never exactly gotten along, especially after he had helped trash a few of their BTL factories. This was not the place to be, as lightly armed as he was. Despite his proficiency with the weapons he was carrying, he knew he wouldn’t be a match for automatic gunfire. He’d had his Colt Manhunter with one extra clip, but that was it. He really wished his bike hadn’t been in the shop.

Luck was on his side; the mobsters seemed to be too concerned with protecting their businesses and employers than keeping their eyes out for an enemy. McD made his way out of there with no incident…until he reached Bellevue.

A small group of people approached him. “Hey mister, spare some cred?” one had asked. He sounded young, which had made McD instinctively think “gangers”.

“Sorry, chummers, fresh out,” he’d told them calmly, walking right past before they could reach him. If they thought he didn’t have anything, they might leave him alone, by his reckoning. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he relaxed his muscles slightly. He heard a familiar “click” from behind him, and stopped.

“That’s what I thought, chummer,” the kid growled. McD looked at the group over his shoulder; there were five in all. He recognized the gang colors, even in the dim light; the Nova Rich, a bunch of spoiled rich punks who liked terrorizing lower-class residents. McD did not like rich punks, and made that fairly evident as he whirled to face them.

Before any of the Rich kids could react, he had swung his coat around, fluttering in front of him as a diversionary tactic. He swiftly removed it and darted out of the way as a hail of bullets flew at it. Reaching behind his back, he took a firm grip on a slim chain there. With preternatural speed, he swung the chain, a Japanese manriki-gusari at the lead ganger, wrapping his gun-hand up tightly.

“Lesson number one, drek-wipe,” McD growled as he yanked the bewildered punk towards him, “Never, EVER underestimate your opponent!” As the other Nova Rich watched, the kid flew towards him and found his face being introduced to the “street-scum’s” knuckles. The crunching sound of his broken nose snapped the thug’s compatriots’ attention back to the real world. They were still in shock at the speed of this man. McD looked at all of them, menace flickering in his eyes. He lifted the gutterpunk off of the ground with one hand, removing his weapon from his wrist, and threw his unconscious opponent back to his friends. “Anybody else want some?!” McD growled. “Come on! Or are ya yellow?”

The bewildered gangers lifted their fallen comrade from the ground, considering their options. One started to step forwards, drawing a knife, and McD pulled the manriki-gusari taught between his hands. The ganger gulped and took a step back. One, apparently not affected by the man’s scare-tactics stepped forward.

“Come on, you guys!” she yelled to the rest, “he’s just one guy! He can’t take all of us!”

McD smirked at that, stowing his weapon behind his back. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” This just seemed to infuriate the girl more, and she began berating her crew for their cowardice. Apparently, they were more scared of her than McD. He could see uncertainty mixed with a bit of anger in their auras as he looked through the astral. Finally, as they stepped forwards, he lifted his hands, and waved them forwards. “Bring it on,” he calmly challenged. The gang attacked, drawing clubs and fancy-looking knives.

The fight took all of three minutes. McD lashed out at the furthest ganger with a distance strike, knocking him to the ground hard enough to knock him out. Another lashed out with a baseball bat, intent on caving in this “lowlife’s” skull. McD sidestepped the awkward swing, punched the guy in the solar plexus, and drove an elbow into his back ribs with an audible “crack”. The next kid actually managed to score a cut to his back while he did this, but was surprised when no blood came out. This distraction earned him a trip to dreamland with his friends as the adept grabbed his wrist and struck him in the face with a thumb-fist punch, followed by a flip, and a quick nerve strike to his carotid artery, temporarily interrupting the flow of blood to his underdeveloped brain. McD then turned to the girl, who was charging at him screaming, a knife in one hand, razors extended from the other. He drove her back with a swift kick to the stomach that doubled her over. She looked up at him through anger-clouded eyes, and started to stand.

“I wouldn’t,” he warned her. “I haven’t killed any of your friends, and I really don’t wanna have to kill you.” She continued to glare, but he could see her assessing her options. With a sigh, he pointed to one of his many scars, not caring if she could see it. It was the one that ran from the edge of his left eye down his cheek. “I’ve taken on tougher than you, chica, and I’m still here,” McD said. “Now walk away, and I’ll leave it be.” After a moment, she retracted her razors, and, with a growl, stalked off into the night. “Some friend you got there, eh, fellas?” the adept mockingly asked his unconscious opponents.

McD took a moment to check where the one lucky Nova Rich had slashed his back; sure enough, no injury. “Thank the gods for mystic armor,” he thought. Collecting his coat, he proceeded to deprive the Nova Rich of their weapons, keeping the gun and a couple of the knives, dropping the rest into the sewer. He also dropped their shoes in the sewer, hoping that a little more humiliation might teach them a lesson, and walked off into the night. “Who knows what else is gonna happen tonight,” he thought. One thing was certain, though; things were definitely going to get…interesting.

Copyright 2002 - M. Dutelle

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