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“I have come here to chew bubble gum and kiss ass.
And I’m all out of bubble gum.”
John Nada, They Live
Morgan stepped into the light of the subway platform,
the large, yet nimble blade of his sword shining in the artificial light. He
held the Grosse Messer with its blade down, the tip almost scratching the
pavement, as Morgan stared at the gathered crowd. Dressed mostly in black,
he clashed with the off-white grime of the walls. But his intense eyes
stared uncaringly at the men, as if their presence was more of an ignorable
annoyance than any source of concern.
“This station’s closed,” said the closest hand agent
as the men broke form and turned towards the stranger. “Get out.”
“You don’t look like a subway representative to me,”
Morgan said, completely unbothered by the size or number of the men before
him. “In fact, you don’t look like much of anything to me.”
“Who is that?” asked one of Phillip’s men. Marilyn
tried to see the crowd as they surrounded the new comer, but wasn’t able to
see. She could barely even hear the exchange.
“That’s one of the knights,” Phillip said, forcing
himself not to look back at Marilyn. “I think it is, anyway.”
“He’s not wearing any red,” said the other man,
craning his neck to see over the crowd. “Are you sure?”
“You’re a long way from Kansas, Dorothy,” said another of the
agents at the front as they all crept step by step closer to surround him.
“Yeah,” he said indifferently, not backing up. “But
I’m always in good company with Toto here.” Morgan smiled, affectionately
patting the long handle of the sword with his left hand. “So,” he said
after a moment, looking at the man. “How you been, Scarecrow?” Morgan bent
his head a little bit as if appraising the guy. “You look like you've been
under the weather with all the weight you lost. In fact, hitting the
weights every now and then might not be a bad idea.”
“There’s thirteen of us and only one of you,” said
another agent.
“Really?” Morgan said, looking at the new speaker.
“What else, besides your testicles, did you trade to the devil for the
ability do math?”
The crowd of men grew increasingly angrier. “What convinced
you to come down here?” said another agent.
“My health,” Morgan returned, still not backing away
from the encroaching goons. “I thought I’d get out of the heat.”
“It’s about to get a lot hotter down here,” said
another guy.
“Yeah, but it’s only going to last a minute or two,”
Morgan said uncaring.
“That’s because it’s not going to take long to
railroad you,” said the first goon who had spoken.
“Yes, but trains can only move in one direction on
one track,” Morgan said, reaching into his trench coat. “While I,” he said,
pulling his hand out of an inner pocket, “can think laterally.”
He held a hand grenade.
“Right oh, boy-o,” Morgan said with a devious smile.
“If I’m going to die, your asses are coming with me.”
“You don’t have the balls to…” said the agent
directly in front of him.
The train platform echoed with the unmistakable, high-pitched
tone of a grenade pin hitting concrete.
“Oh my god,” said one of the man to Morgan’s right.
“Let’s meet him together, shall we?” he asked with a
smile, opening his hand so that the grenade had an uninhibited drop to the
ground. The first row of men all dove for the grenade, scrambling over one
another to grab it. In the blink of an eye, Morgan leapt over the crowd,
rushing towards the far end of the platform.
The grenade hit the ground.
With a powerful slice, Morgan tore cleanly through
the legs of two of the Hand, spilling their blood out over the ground and
their brethren likewise. Their severed limbs hit the ground after Morgan
had rushed by.
The grenade bounced off the ground.
Morgan barreled straight through an attempt to stall
him, pushing to the very edge of the subway platform. Without any
hesitation, the former knight leapt off the platform, throwing his legs out
wide as he propelled himself feet-first towards Phillip.
His splitting legs slammed into the two aides that
were on either side of Phillip, both of them going flying down onto the
tracks. But immediately after impact, Morgan slammed his legs together
around Phillip’s head. His knees drove into the man’s ears as Morgan’s
weight was sent swinging around Phillip's torso.
With the
sudden reversal of motion, Morgan swung around behind Phillip, turning the
Hand’s leader with him. Releasing his legs as he swung down to the ground,
Morgan landed on his hands as Phillip was thrown up against the pillar next
to Marilyn.
The two men
Morgan had kicked landed directly onto the powered wires of the subway
cars. Spasming like fish out of water, the bodies began to smoke
immediately as they flailed without sound on the tracks. The small army of
Hand agents stopped at the edge of the tracks, unwilling to brave the
erratic movements of their downed comrades.
“Your boys are idiots,” Morgan said to Phillip as the
Hand leader stood. Ignoring him, Morgan hacked his sword into the chains
that held Marilyn, slicing them apart. She nearly fell to the ground, her
terrified eyes locked on the two flailing agents.
“My men are the best trained fighters on the planet,”
Phillip said. He lunged at Morgan, punching quickly for his face. The
former knight let the punch draw close and grabbed it out of the air,
spinning around Phillip to slam the elbow of his grabbing hand across
Phillip’s jaw, knocking blood from his mouth and onto the floor where
Phillip landed.
“Then how the hell’d you get to be in charge of
them?” Morgan asked. “You fight like my washing machine.”
He turned back around and grabbed Marilyn’s arm,
yanking her to her feet. “Come on, Senorita Psychopath. Time to get you out
of here.” Morgan nearly carried Marilyn by her arm across the pillars to
the other side of the median. There, another subway station waited.
“Wait. How are we…” she started to ask.
“You know, those Hand guys are going to figure out
real quick they can simply walk around the two light bulbs on the tracks,”
Morgan interrupted harshly. He grabbed Marilyn’s arm to get her attention
and pointed to the tracks on the other side of the median. “Not that one.
Not that one. Not that one. Everything else is fine.”
“You want me to…” she started.
“Yes,” he exclaimed as he pushed her down into the
tracks. “And hurry. A train’s coming,” he yelled after her, the wind
beginning to build up. He turned around as Phillip stepped around the
pillar. “Good,” he said to the leader of the Hand. “Glad to see you’re
still awake. I’d hate to think that you have that much of a glass jaw.”
Phillip swung at Morgan with a hook punch, but he
simply pulled his head back, letting the punch cross harmlessly before his
face. “You’re a wuss, I’m formerly a trained fighter. That means I win,”
Morgan said clearly over the wind of the coming train.
Phillip glanced down at Marilyn as she awkwardly
negotiated the tracks at the bottom of the subway pit. “You know we’ll get
her.”
“Not if I kill you,” he countered simply. Phillip
roared at him, kicking at Morgan’s knee with a fast shin kick. Morgan
kicked Phillip’s leg out of the air, bringing his own leg up to slap the
Hand leader in the stomach with his toes before swatting his nose with his
heel. The near-kicks caused Phillip to jump back from Morgan, fear running
through him.
“I could take you apart so thoroughly, it’s not even
funny,” Morgan said, letting the light blows speak for themselves. “But I’m
not. And in return for my kindness, you’re going to leave the World
Alliance alone. Get it?”
“I’ll kill you,” Phillip said, glaring at Morgan, his
face contorted in rage.
“You and all your juicers couldn’t find your way out
of a paper bag without a map,” Morgan scoffed. “You think you can kill me?”
He glanced back through the pillar as the Hand agents were just now moving
around the bodies. “They can’t even figure out three-dimensional thought.”
“I can,” Phillip glared.
“Oh really?” Morgan asked. With a fast shove, the
tossed his sword up into the air, the act taking Phillip’s eyes and
attention with it. It wasn’t until Morgan punched Phillip in the face with
a punch like a sledge hammer that the Hand leader even noticed the attack.
Morgan caught the sword as it descended, looking down
at his grounded opponent. He looked down the hallway as the headlamp of a
subway train appeared around the corner, along with the wind and sound that
announced its arrival. “Can’t play anymore,” he said, smiling at Phillip.
Turning from Phillip, Morgan took a single step to
leap across the bit of the tracks. Landing on one foot, Morgan had to throw
his weight forward in order to put his other foot onto solid ground. But
standing up, his balance was regained. He turned back around at Phillip.
The former knight looked at the Hand’s leader for a
moment, capturing his attention with his eyes. “Defy my request at your own
risk,” Morgan called back to him. Turning, he grabbed Marilyn’s arm and
rushed out of the station, pushing her as he ran.
And then the subway train obscured his escape.
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