ITS SOOOOO LOOOONG. and im so not sorry about that. also the first part is really, really cheesy but its meant to be, when i get back to this ill move the cheesiness elsewhere so people will actually follow the whole hooked by the first sentence thing... bob “There lived a warrior once, in a culture long lost in time. And honestly, he wasn’t even that much of a warrior. Too skinny, and his armor never fit him right, making his already lanky figure seem that much skinnier. And when he first was drafted, he barely even knew which end of the sword was the pointy bit, poor guy. But the warrior was tireless and determined to prove himself once and for all. He woke up earlier than any of the other men in his unit, worked longer hours, and bless his ancient soul he really did try. But he just never could quite measure up to the other’s speed, strength, or size. After a couple of years’ service, when most everyone had grown used to his enthusiastic clumsiness, something completely unprecedented happened. A woman joined their troop. She hailed from a foreign land where women had dominated and handled all the governing and defending, while the men acted as cheer leaders and housemaids. Very quickly was it apparent that she wasn’t willing to put up with the jests and jokes of the men in the troop, and within a matter of hours she had outfought and outsmarted the men into a sullen and intimidated silence. Now, as it happened, during that entire incident our favorite little energizer bunny had been elsewhere, trying desperately to hunt the big game that fed in the area the army was occupying. A week they’d been stationed there, and not yet had he once managed to bring down one of the hulking beasts. He didn’t get one that day either, and returned inevitably to camp empty handed, to the sight of the woman sitting by herself in full armor as the rest of the soldiers stole furtive glances to her. She glanced up in shock as the clumsy soldier plopped down beside her, introduce himself, and start chattering away happily. She’d never seen a man behave that way before, the men where she was from tended not to speak in the presence of women, and the warriors here had tried (and failed) to bully her into submission, but neither group had talked to her. She found herself surprised when she wasn’t quite sure how to respond to him. Slowly, over a period of weeks, the warrior drew her into conversation. They became friends, and she took him under her wing, teaching him better ways to use his size to fight and hunt. It was really quite adorable, but the men quickly figured out not to comment on it, because she could outfight all of them. Ultimately, in a way that the rest of the unit shrugged off as an opposites attract thing, they became lovers. Eventually, the time he had to spend in service to the army came to a close, and both he and the woman retired to start a family. They had been lucky, that when they were soldiers it had been a time of peace, their biggest problem skirmishes along the borders, and as their family grew that peace continued. But it couldn’t last forever, and our warrior returned to war. Less than a year later, fate brought his division back around to the village he’d called home, only to see it completely destroyed, and everyone killed. He swore revenge that day, and since he had no way of knowing exactly who had wreaked this havoc on his home, he swore it on Capsin the god that oversaw war and death. The god heard him, and seeing that it was the clumsy warrior doing the swearing, appeared in the destroyed village square, dressed in black armor made of scales that seemed to dim the light that hit it, and a two-handed blade longer than most men were tall. The clumsy warrior, more brave than he was brains, immediately challenged the god for the lives of his wife and children, and Capsin, knowing full well there was no way that the warrior would win, took the challenge. The two men squared off against each other, one being the epitome of grace and danger, the other a hopeless dork. There was only one outcome of this battle, and every single one of the people who gathered to watch knew what it was. Sure enough, Capsin ran his sword through the warrior’s abdomen within seconds of the battle beginning, and left him for dead. The men gathered around their fallen friend as he lay bleeding out on the rocky ground, knowing that the particular injury he had sustained was fatal, but that death would be hours in coming and extremely painful. Their captain raised his own sword high, ready to spare his soldier that fate, when a little girl appeared before him, her blond hair braided back and her white dress glowing. In the backs of their minds, everyone watching wondered what it was about the clumsy buffoon that had drawn two of their pantheon out. The goddess waited until the captain had lowered his weapon and stepped back to lean down and whisper in the dying man’s ear. She picked up his hand and brought it to her mouth, and the second her lips touched the back of it a gold light ran down his arm to encompass his entire body. She dissolved as he sat back up, healed. Driven half mad by the experience, and unable to stand the sight of his friends because it reminded him of his family, he left and wandered into the mountains, never to be heard from again. So, what did you think?” Cathleen asked, setting the thick text on ancient history her college professor had required on the bed in front of her. She pushed her hair out of her face and sat up, waiting on her friend’s response. Max occupied the rolling desk chair, her booted feet propped up on the corner of the bed to provide leverage for her to twist slightly from side to side while Cathleen narrated the text. “That was terrible.” Max laughed. “And how do they know the ground was rocky? It could just as easily been covered in sand or overgrown in grass.” As far as looks went, the two girls were opposites. Whereas Cathleen had a shorter and thicker stature, green eyes, and long strawberry blond hair framing green eyes and a heart shaped face, Max was taller had just above shoulder length curly black hair, dark blue eyes, and freckles running across her cheekbones. The two had been best friends since they were five, and now shared an apartment. “Really?” Cathleen shot Max an exasperated glare. “That’s all you got. ‘How do we know it’s rocky?’ Try how am I supposed to do this assignment if you don’t help me?” “It’s Friday night; that means we don’t have to use our brains on homework. Besides, I don’t understand the point of this assignment,” Max defended herself, pointing at Cathleen to counteract the glare, “and besides, they don’t even mention people’s names. What’s up with that? And the goddess girl. She is a goddess, right? Why’d she just randomly show up and save the dude?” Cathleen glanced down at the book, frowning, a little dent appearing in her forehead. “Yeah… I don’t have the answers to any of that.” She closed the book and slid it off to the side with one finger. “And I don’t understand the assignment either. I’ll just bull hockey my way through it later.” “That’s my girl.” Max approved as the doorbell rang. “Maxine Raleigh, your aunt would kill you if she knew you agreed with that.” Cathleen teased, shaking her head. “And that should be the pizza. Clean the desk off so we have somewhere to put it.” “And your mom would kill you if she knew you said it first.” Max called out as Cathleen left the room. She moved their textbooks into two piles on the floor beside the desk, uncovering a newspaper trumpeting the title “NIGHT RIDER STRIKES AGAIN!” Rolling her eyes at the name the press had bestowed upon some vigilante that had popped up a couple of times recently, she moved the newspaper and the other desk clutter off to the side. Job done and no desire to go spy on Cathleen flirting with the pizza delivery dude, she picked up the paper and read the article. “Anything good in there?” Cathleen reached around max to set the boxes, two paper plates, and a handful of napkins on the desk. “Just a masked hero, stopping crime.” Max opened the first pizza box, snagging a couple of pieces. “This smells delicious.” Cathleen filled her plate too and settled back down on the side of the bed. “Is he really wearing a mask?” She asked. Max, her mouth full, shook her head and held up a finger until she could swallow. “No, well, not that I could tell. They’re not even sure it’s the Rider this time, they’re just looking for a story.” “Well, the Night Rider is sort of like our own version of the Lock Ness monster.” Cathleen pointed out. Max snorted. “Just because someone decides to do a good deed every once in a while, doesn’t mean there’s some immortal badass with a grudge against crime out there roaming the streets looking for trouble. I mean, people have claimed this dude’s saved them for what, a hundred and fifty years?” “It’s not random people making random decisions to do an act of kindness.” The blond argued. “There’s a pattern. He appears, saves people for a couple of months, and then disappears for a while, then reappears again. And everyone gives the same description of the man. Tall, muscular, with dark hair and eyes. Dangerous, yet kind.” Cathleen sighed. “You have a total crush on a local legend.” Max observed. “And that’s the most generic description there is, of course they all described him the same ‘Mr. Police Man, I don’t know who saved me, but he was tall, dark, and handsome.’ Give me a break.” Max’s voice rose to higher pitch as she imitated a possible witness to the vigilante. “Just because you don’t believe, doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t.” “A hundred and fifty years Cathleen. Who do you know that could live that long?” “That’s beside the point.” Cathleen deflected. “Uh-huh, sure. Five dollars says the only reason this article was printed is because it’s getting close to Halloween, and someone somewhere is trying to sell a costume idea.” “I’m not taking that bet, you’re probably right. And speaking of Halloween, have you decided what you’re going as?” “Nope.” Max answered, popping the p on the end of the word. “Not a clue.” “You could be a fairy like me.” Cathleen pointed to where her costume hung on the back of the door. “But we’ve gone as the same thing for fifteen years.” Max protested. “And we’re finally in college. It’s time to shake things up.” “If you insist.” Cathleen shrugged. “Just tell me when you do decide. I want to find something glittery to make you wear.” Max mock shuddered her friend’s words. “Hey, aren’t you staying with your aunt tonight?” “Yeah, tomorrow’s her day off. I should go, it’s getting late.” She picked up her purse and keys. “Before you go, are you going to the party next Friday?” “What party?” Max racked her brain, coming up with nothing. “The big one, up on SinClair mansion on the Hill.” The Hill was a fancy housing subdivision for the (mostly snooty) upper crust. “You mean the party that’s had to be broken up by the cops for the last what? Six years? Why do you want to go to that?” “Parties are part of the college experience, right? We should at least go to one.” Max shook her head. “I heard that the other snobs on the street are going to try to have anyone who attends charged with disturbing the peace this year.” Cathleen pouted at Max’s words. “Okay. Okay. If you want to go, I’ll be your back-up.” Max said. “But for now, I have to go. See you later.” She left the bedroom. “Be safe.” Cathleen called as she walked out of the room. “I always am.” Max called back as she left the apartment. “See you tomorrow.” She closed the door, and started down the street back to her own place. This hour of night, the streets were almost deserted, just a handful of random people quickly disappearing into the various buildings lining the sidewalks. It felt freeing, knowing that no one was watching, at least no one she knew. She could do whatever she wanted and no one would judge. She passed along the way a couple in love, based in the way the woman with the long hair rubbed her swollen belly with one scarred hand and the man by her side held her. “Hey.” Max smiled to them, stepping out of their way as they passed each other. The couple hey’d the college girl back, and the trio continued on their separate ways. Something changed as Max turned the corner onto a completely deserted side street close to her aunt’s apartment complex. Suddenly alone didn’t feel so safe. If she was alone. Max glanced around just to make sure, and didn’t see anyone. Despite that, a feeling of being watched persisted. She quickened her pace and turned onto the next street, which was darker than the previous streets due to a smaller number of streetlights. “Sweetheart, slow down.” A man’s voice called lazily from behind her. “I can’t hardly keep up.” Shit. She broke into a run and ditched the sidewalk to tear down the middle of the street so that if someone was coming they’d have to stop and hopefully help her. She glanced back to see if he was still behind her and almost immediately crashed into what felt like a giant post, until it moved to grab both her open arms with both hands. “Hey, let go.” Max struggled in the man’s grip. He obliged, letting go of one arm, but only so that his buddy could pull her purse off her shoulder and hold on to her arm instead. They forced her out in front of them, with her arms pulled back behind her. She never got a good look at either of their faces. The third, original man walked up, all broad shoulders, dark hair, one angry looking scar running down the side of his face and the easy confidence of someone who’d done this before… many times, and enjoyed it. And Max had thought she was in trouble before. “Well, what do we have here?” He ran his eyes down her body and she screamed, hoping to gain someone’s, anyone’s attention. “Shut her up.” The mugger in front of her immediately stepped forward and what felt like a sledge hammer slammed into her stomach. Pain exploded in her mid-section as the wind was immediately knocked out of her and she would have doubled over if the other two hadn’t have been holding her up. The man gave a snort laugh and reached down to pick up her purse, bouncing it in his hands by the straps as Max recovered. “That’s mine.” She stubbornly gasped out, causing all three men to chuckle. “Not anymore, little girl.” Scar corrected. “Search her. No wait.” He interrupted himself before his men could move, and punched Max one more time for good measure. He laughed as her captors patted her body down with their free hands and she gasped, trying to ignore the pain and fear and keep her head. “Nothing.” The man to her left finally said as both men straightened up again. “Hmm.” The leader said. “That’s a shame. You’ve been handling this rather well.” He noted casually. “Most people cry and beg. Go at least a little crazy.” He pointed at his head with his index finger and moved his hand in circles. “I enjoy that bit. Wonder what we can do to make you scream.” Max’s blood ran cold as he stepped back to give her another once over, a look in his eye that didn’t bode well for her. Her fear in that moment over-rode any fighting spirit she had in her, and with what little control she had left she braced for the worst as the man stepped closer. “I really hate to tell you this, but saying that in front of her back up is a terrible place to start.” Yet another man stepped into the scene, shooting Scar a slightly insane grin. This one was built like a wall, with a shock of dark, messy hair. There wasn’t enough light out to determine its exact color. “Who are you?” Scar asked, actually sounding affronted that someone would dare to intervene. “Allow me to reiterate, I’m her back up.” Max’s captors glanced back and forth between the two men, unsure of how to respond to the new happenings. “Back up?” Scar repeated stupidly. New guy sighed. “Yes, well, I’d be tempted to say ‘fight someone your own size’, but that’s just slightly too clichéd for me, and besides, I’m bigger than you are.” He shrugged. Scar shifted towards the new man slightly, then without taking his eyes off his new opponent, and they locked eyes. The moment seemed to stretch to longer than the couple of seconds that it lasted. “Take care of her.” Scar eventually told his men. New guy’s eyes shifted to Max at the directive, so he missed the fact that Scar was lunging at him until it was almost too late. The last thing she saw before her captives slung her backwards was Scar tackling the man to the ground. Now, she had her own problems to worry about. She tried to bring her arms up into a defensive position, but wasn’t quite quick enough as the goon to her right pulled a powerful left hook to her nose. Her face exploded as she went down like a bag of rocks, and before she could regain her bearings, the mugger to her left was on top of her, his hands around her throat, and all she knew was he was choking her. She couldn’t breathe. I’m going to die. Panicking completely now, she thrashed from side to side, trying desperately to somehow escape, but to no avail. Her assaulter was too large for her to budge. Fortunately, she didn’t have to, because out of nowhere New Guy was there, pulling the man off of her. “Get back.” He directed, slugging the man once in the head to disorient him, then once in the gut to wind him. Max did as she was told, scrambling backwards into the small circle of light cast by the nearest street lamp. The goon regained his bearings, took one look at New Guy, and took off running down the street like the hounds of hell were after him. New guy let him go, instead he turned to face Max where she sat huddled against the lamp post on the sidewalk. He slowly walked forward, stopping about five feet away, and dropped until he was sitting on his heels. “Are you okay?” He asked softly. He was close enough to the light now that she could see his eyes were dark green and he wore a simple black t-shirt and jeans. She noted vaguely in the back of her mind that it was a good look for him. “I’m fine.” She said out loud, too stubborn to admit weakness to a stranger in true Max fashion. “Who are you?” The man couldn’t have been older than twenty-five, and had a dimple when he smiled. “You can call me Bob. I’m your friend, for tonight at least.” He said. Max decided his voice had a decidedly soothing quality to it. “You don’t look like a Bob.” She laughed. On the tail end of the adrenaline rush from the entire incident, it was either that or cry. Hey, I happen to like the name Bob.” He sounded slightly hurt, causing Max to chuckle again. The chuckle turned into a small sob, and a tear leaked down her face, despite her best efforts. “Sorry. I don’t normally do this.” She reached up to wipe it away, and nudged her nose slightly. It reminded her of the punch she’d taken with a vengeance, and her eyes watered up even more. She groaned slightly under her breath. Bob watched her closely. “It looks like it may be broken.” He said as it throbbed. “Well, you could have fooled me.” She grumbled. The corner of his mouth turned up at her snark. “My name’s Max, by the way.” His eyebrows drew together in confusion. “Isn’t that a…” He trailed off. “Boys name? Technically. It’s short for Maxine.” And to think, you were complaining about Bob.” Max just looked at him. “Yeah, okay, that wasn’t the nicest comment I could have made.” Bob sighed. “But in my defense I was just trying to make you laugh or smile before I had to tell you they took off with your purse.” “What?” Max felt like someone had just dumped cold water on her. “Why didn’t you stop them?” “He was choking you, you’re more important than a collection of belongings.” Bob defended himself. “Oh.” Max deflated a little. “Thank you. For everything, you didn’t have to help.” Bob nodded, smiling. Max leaned back against the light post as the loss of the purse sank in. “They have my wallet, my keys, everything. “Do you have a friend you can stay with?” Bob asked. “I doubt you want to be alone tonight, and you need to get some ice for that nose.” “Um… yeah. I was coming home from her place, I’ll just go back.” Max patted her pockets for her phone to call Cathleen to let her friend know she was coming, but it wasn’t there. “Crap. They have my phone too.” She made a face, then grimaced as the movement jarred her nose. Bob, knowing exactly what she just did, grinned. A bottle rolled into the street from around the corner. Sensing trouble, the man stood. Max followed his lead. “Where did you say your aunt lived?” “I didn’t. That way.” Max pointed in the direction of the apartment complex her aunt lived in. The same direction several angry voices were coming from, one of them belonging to Scar. Why are they coming back?” “My first guess would be that his lack of fighting skills has made him feel inadequate, so he went to find his friends to beat me that way. We should go.” Bob quickly stepped over to the girl, took her hand, and pulled her behind him as he took off down the street. “Where are we going?” She asked, struggling to keep up with his long legs as they ran. “Somewhere away from a gang of pissed off drunk men. Somewhere crowded.” Bob answered, pulling them right into a small alleyway, then stopping short at the sight of two men waiting on the other end. “Damn, how many friends does he have?” He grumbled under his breath, then pulled Max back onto the street and continued in the direction they were going before they turned. The other route he had planned to take was obstructed by a pile of shopping carts, of all things. “What?” Max asked. “Yeah, I don’t understand it either. There’s just no accounting for taste with some people.” He sighed. “I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this.” “Come to wha- hey!” Max squeaked in alarm as Bob swiftly turned and picked her up into his arms. “What are you doing?” “This is faster.” Was all he said as he turned direction once more. She didn’t question him when a second later someone spotted them, and the whooshing of a bullet speeding past them whooshed behind her. She ducked into Bob’s shoulder as he picked up the pace and turned the corner. “Why do they have to have guns?” She muttered. “Because that’s what people like them have.” Bob answered simply. She hadn’t even realized he could hear that, she’d spoken barely above a whisper. “The doors unlocked, open it.” He directed, slowing down to stand in front of a rusted old metal door that looked like it hadn’t been opened this century. “Are you sure-“ She started. “It’ll open.” Bob interrupted her. “My hands are kinda full though.” She complied with his directive and the door opened easily and without so much as a squeak. Bob quickly ducked inside, and kicked the door closed, then set her down. Any light that existed in the room or hall or whatever it was that she’d just been carried into disappeared when the door closed. In the pitch darkness she clearly heard the locking mechanism as it snapped into place. Before she had the chance to worry about being in a pitch dark room with a stranger, Bob flipped on the lights, and peeked out the little spyhole in the door. “Pfft. Morons.” He snorted. “That’ll teach ‘em.” He stepped back and let the little metal cover swing down over the spyhole, and turned to Max. “So, shall we go get some Ice for your face?” “I- Where are we?” “A building.” Bob answered. “My home. Your nose is swelling.” He watched her expectantly. “I thought we were going somewhere public.” She disregarded the nose comment. “We were. They cut off all the ways to the populated areas.” He frowned. “No idea why they’re so upset, I didn’t even touch them. Well, that one guy yeah, but he deserved it.” The reminder of the thug’s hands around her neck made her knees go weak. “I think I’ll take that ice-pack now.” She changed the subject. Bob offered her a reassuring smile. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe here. I meant it when I said I was your friend tonight. Come on.” He led the way down the plain jane hall they were in to the last door on the right and opened it, walking inside. “Sorry about the mess.” He called out as she stepped into the room. There was a black futon against the middle of the wall in front of her, a blanket and some pillows spilling haphazardly off one end. The coffee table in front of it was littered with a couple of paper plates and a handful of cups, newspapers and books, a sweatshirt pushed under it. A flat screen TV was mounted against the opposite wall, and across the room a half wall separated the living room from the kitchen, sporting several bags of chips and half a watermelon. The walls were painted a dark grey and everything had a warm, lived in feel despite the fact that a quick pick up was needed. “I haven’t really had anyone over in a while, I guess it’s gotten a bit out of hand in here.” Bob returned to Max, bag of ice in hand, and made her sit on the couch with it against her face as he picked up everything he could find. He glanced over to see her not holding the bag to her nose. He raised an eyebrow in question. “It’s really cold.” She said by way of explanation. “It’s ice.” He responded. “It’s supposed to be.” “Yes, but there’s only so much freezing cold I can take on my sinus cavities at one time.” She defended. “Right.” Bob drew the word out. “Hold on.” He disappeared once more into the kitchen and returned with a can of cold beer. “Here.” He set it in front of her. “I’m nineteen.” She stared at the can. “So?” Bob asked, fishing the sweatshirt out from under the table. “I’m not old enough to drink?” She pointed out what to her at least should have been obvious. “Are you really going to sit there and tell me you’ve never had a beer before?” He rose back to his full height, raising an eyebrow at her, then sighed. “Look, I get that this is awkward. See that hallway there,” he pointed to the hallway just left of the kitchen, “the first door on the left is the bathroom, and behind it’s the computer room. That’s where I’ll be if you need anything. Drink that or not, I don’t care, but it’s been a rough night for you, it’s not exactly unwarranted. You can leave if you want the green button on the handle unlocks the door, but I’d wait until morning just to make sure those bozos are really gone. Night.” He nodded at her, then left the room, shutting the hallway door behind him. Max stared at the door for a second, then glanced back down to the can on the coffee table. He was right, and this wasn’t her first beer, not that she’d admit that to him. But that didn’t mean she was going to drink it. She picked up the can and put it back in the fridge, then settled back down on the couch. She meant to stay up, give the muggers a few hours to disappear, and then leave, but that’s not what happened. The poor girl was asleep inside of ten minutes, curled up and leaning on the pillow pile on the edge of the futon.
Posted on: Thu, 20 Nov 2014 02:46:10 +0000
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