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| He was about to fall asleep but he could not, a flash ran through his mind. He slept A fist came straight at him And another And another Breeze was now completely awake, the park bench was not as comfortable as he expected, which was not much. His nose started to bleed; he blocked instinctively and threw a punch at the first man. He was old, and smelled rotten. His old gray beard was as matted as he had seen. His left eye was slumped through too many fights or old age. He fell easily to the power of the White Tiger. The other man was slightly younger and slightly bigger. Breeze made short work of him as well, side stepping a thrust from a small rusty dagger already stained with blood. He snapped, the audacity of these homeless men to try to steal from Breeze who coincidently had nothing anyway. He stamped on the old mans head then ripped into the younger man, his fists flying rapidly more and more and more. Faster and faster, they missed sometimes hitting the concrete beneath the man. He didn’t care, he was too angry to give the pain any thought. He left them, he was not sure if one or both were dead. He had gone berserk Even more uncertain deaths hung over his head. Ever since leaving her on the bridge, he had wandered through Canada, stealing and mugging people to get from one place to another. He owned nothing, he had nothing. Nothing. Now sleeping on a bench was uncomfortable but it carried the risk of being beat up on or stolen from. By an ordinary person or in this case by a fellow homeless. He was better than these people. He resented being one of them, yet to go beyond that and try to steal from him was the final straw. He did not care, hate and rage were too hard to control. He hated himself; he hated himself for his awful deed to his former lover. Her name never mentioned since that day, the day he had nightmares of. The name was unutterable. If he dared to, his throat would choke up and he would despair. Despair was the perfect word. It was the worst of all feelings; even indifference didn’t cover half the pain involved in despair. To despair is to have no hope. In addition, as hope is the ultimate good despair is the ultimate evil. Parallel as black and white. Despair held one card over its entire victim. The black hole. A missing piece of the puzzle that made up the human mind. The black hole made Breeze empty, he hated himself for what he had done. He hated the world for letting him do it. He killed the only person he had ever cared for, the only person that had loved him. His choice had driven her to suicide. He could not forgive himself, he would not. He took out those men with such force because he wanted to do it to himself. He changed the direction of his hatred towards innocents. Innocents to an extent, they were never nice people. Murderers, rapists, muggers. He used this to justify his own driven malice. He ran faster and faster from the scene of his violence. He had heard the sirens from the police cars as he ran, his adrenaline pumped. His blood rushing. He was breathless as he ran and ran. Nothing else matted except his Survival, he would need to leave the vicinity as fast as his legs could carry him and he did that. He slumped down against a wall, it has been a long time since he had eaten anything hot. Anything substantial. His eyes had shut, pain ran through his side, he was sure at least one rib was broken. From the beating, he had received only a few days ago. He had a headache the pain had really taken its toll on his body. Days of malnutrition and pain plus the punches and kicks from before left him in a dire state… Click Click His eyes opened Click Click He breathed out and snarled, almost beastlike before staggering to his feet. He moved back into the shadows. A shadow of a person showed on a wall not too far away. He stopped breathing. After what seemed like a long time someone passed. It was a young woman. He leapt out, she screamed She tried to fight back with some pepper spray, he avoided it. It lightly touched his left eye, he ignored the pain. His right eye stayed open. He turned her around and put her into a sleeper, holding her mouth. His remaining opened eye was on the verge of shedding tears. His victim moaned, her breathing radical in its variation. Showing the clear signs of hysterics. He threw her against the wall. She fell down, a large bruise on her forehead. She did not scream as she fell onto the floor in a heap. She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. Maybe expecting rape. He searched her and took her wallet. He opened it up and took the money from it. He dropped it back onto the floor and again sprinted away. This time he was much slower and didn’t get very far before he became exhausted again. He walked slowly to the nearest light he could find and held out his hand. There was around 50 dollars in his hand. It would do for a few days. He did not want to think of the consequences of his actions. The woman could have had children, they could be left hungry tonight through his hideous deeds. He blocked it all from his mind, to think of it would drive him to suicide. He did not want that. He would take his life gladly if not for the fear, his whole life meant nothing. That he made no difference. He would get caught sooner or later, he was waiting for it. He was already in a prison, another one would be welcomed FADE OUT… The hotel was adequate. He only paid $20 for the night plus breakfast, which again was adequate. Only because The Dreadnought was scraping the bottom of the barrel. He stumbled out onto the street that night after paying an extra $10 to stay the day. Warmth was good and he needed to savor it, his bones were chilled most nights. It was a race. What would get him first? The hunger and cold or the guilt and torment. If it were the food, he would give into the torment and attack another victim. If it were the guilt then the lack of food would kill him. He was trapped.He moved out through the streets. It was 11pm; he stayed until he was asked to leave. He had $20 left; he needed it to leave this place. If he lingered too long god knows what would happen to him. He pulled up the hood on his thick black coat and walked deeper and deeper into the city towards the train station. He walked faster and faster. He was dressed in a thin ripped black t-shirt, a thick black coat. Thin blue pants and a pair of old shoes. His face had not been shaved in days and it looked rough. His right eye had bruising underneath. He thought he would reach the station without any trouble but he was beginning to doubt it. He heard footsteps behind him. It lasted a few minutes before instinct shot through his body and he sidestepped a rush attack. He twisted and fell, his left thigh being hit by something. He looked up at the young man he had taken out only mere days ago. He panicked for a split second; his pants were beginning to become warm. He looked down at the dampness of it and touched them with his hand, He held it up; red sticky blood clung to his fingers. He looked up; the red blood reflected the eyes of the White Tiger who pounced. He grabbed the knife and threw it before head butting the attacker and dropping him with a knee to the face. He kicked him in the jaw to knock him out and started to walk again. He turned the corner and sighed, he opened and shut his eyes repeatedly. He felt faint, he collapsed. FADE OUT… His head hurt like hell, and the lights he could see weren’t helping him. He sat up and straight away felt pain in his leg. He pulled off the quilt and looked down, it was bandaged. Nurse: Don’t move it Breeze looked round, he was in a small room. A hospital, the smell gave it away. He almost convulsed. He hated the smell of the hospital. It was a plain room. One window faced him. One table next to him. On the table lay a canister of water and a pair of blue pants Breeze: What am I doing here? Nurse: You fainted, loss of blood. The knife could easily have infected you Breeze panicked a little Breeze: Did it? Nurse: No, we cleaned the wound Breeze sighed in relief Breeze: Thanks, I don’t have any money to pay for this Nurse: You don’t need any, the health service pays the fees Breeze sighed Breeze: Okay The nurse walked out of the room Breeze: Wait The nurse turned round Nurse: Yeah? Breeze: When can I leave? Nurse: I don’t know you’ll have to ask the doctor. Probably in a few hours Breeze: Okay Nurse: Oh and the police were here before. They will be here soon as well Breeze kept a straight face Breeze: Okay The nurse exited the room Breeze scrambled out of the bed He had everything but pants on. His right upper leg was bandaged tightly. He got out of bed Breeze: Damn He couldn’t quite walk without limping. It was painful. He limped over to table and picked up his pants. He groaned as he saw a huge rip in them. He put them on with difficulty and hobbled out of the room. The hall was clear, he moved quickly trying to alert as little attention as he could. He was on the cold street before long. He knew where he was now. Not far from the subway station. He checked his pocket for the $20 for the train. It wasn’t there. He punched the wall he was stood against in frustration before skulking into another alleyway. He would wait until nighttime. He hated it but he needed to get out of this place or another victim could attack him and he would not be so lucky. It was the Survival of his Life, could he trade it for the Survival of his Soul… The night came as it always did, he had moved to an underground subway and hid there, he would move onto the streets at when it grew dark. He would pray on the weak, he was the strong. He hunted like a tiger. With a desire to be good but a necessity to do wrong. All the colours conflicted to make White. The purest. He could live with that. He was the White Tiger. He moved to a corner, quickly, silently. His breathing was silent, audible only from within a few centimeter distance. He waited until he saw his victim. He may have struck lucky. It was a man in an seemingly expensive suit. He was walking through the streets alone. He came within meters of Breeze before he pounced. The man was surprisingly strong but not strong enough. He called out and before Breeze knew it he was surrounded by four men. He parried one thrust of a fist, took out the man with a kick to the face. He was able to knock down another with a head butt before being hit on the back of the knees with a bat. The 4 men restrained him. He almost overpowered his right side but only for a split second. He wasn’t a god. Just an immensely strong man. His clarity and vision went as he felt a hard hit on the back of his head. FADE OUT… He woke up in a damp, dark room. He could see a table. At either end sat two men. One with a white vest on and the other with a stained purple shirt opened midway up his torso. They were both smoking and had cards in their hands. On the table sat two empty beer bottles and two half full ones. He moved his head and groaned, the pain rushing through his eyes was tremendous1st Man: Boss After a few seconds the man in the suit walked through the door left of the table Suited man: Ah our catch is awake Breeze tried to move, his hands were bound behind him and he could feel the irritation of rope on his wrists. Breeze: What do you want from me? Suited Man: Your services Breeze: You have enough muscle Suited Man: Your homeless, yet you couldn’t have been for long. Your stronger than most men I’ve met. Your young, full of life. You don’t want to be wasting it all on mugging. You’ll get caught sooner or later Breeze: Maybe I want to be Suited Man: Nah, I don’t think that’s it. If you wanted to be caught then you would be by now Breeze laughed Suited Man: What? Breeze: Nothing Suited Man: I don’t want you as a bodyguard or a debt collector or whatever else you think. I want you to join an underground fighting scene I compete in Breeze: You compete in it Suited Man: Well I put forward my Champions… You can be my new Champion Breeze: What happened to your old one? Suited Man: He can no longer speak Breeze: That doesn’t stop him fighting Suited Man: He can no longer punch Breeze: Oh Suited Man: Interested? Breeze: It’s too dangerous Suited Man: More dangerous than living on the streets. I don’t think so Breeze: You have a point Suited Man: So? Breeze bit his lip: How much does it pay? Suited Man: Roughly? Breeze: Yeah Suited Man: If you win, maybe $500 Breeze: Not bad Suited Man: Much better than what you normally get. What do you get, about $30 a day? Breeze: Stealing? The Suited Man nodded Breeze: Yeah Suited Man: What’s your name? Breeze: James Suited Man: Call me Regent Breeze: Okay Regent Suited Man: What do you say?
[IN
GOD WE TRUST] |