First Night: Part IV

A police siren howled and echoed off the crumbling brick of the Kings Row tenements.

Smoke wafted through the sky and across the face of the full moon while a chill wind scattered litter through the streets that had once been home to Paragon's prosperous manufacturing community. Now the Row held a less than sterling reputation and its most well known residents were definitely not those you would want to meet after dark. Such as the group of young men who now rounded the corner of one of the dilapidated apartment buildings.

They hooted and yelled at the top of their voices in obvious delight. All of them wore the loose uniform and sinister skeletal masks of the feared street-gang known as the Skulls. One of the youths, a huge and hulking figure, pushed a shopping cart in which another gang-member sat, swigging from a beer bottle and cackling loudly.

Down the street, an elderly man in a battered hat and coat shuffled up the steps of another tenement. Hearing the raucous clamour, he gazed at the approaching gang-members in dismay. Desperately he fumbled with his keys while murmuring a prayer to the Heavens. With a sharp intake of breath he found the correct key and jammed it into the door-lock. Swiftly he wrenched open the door and slammed it behind him after which there was the sound of many bolts and chains being slid into place. Moments later, several empty bottles shattered against the heavy door as the Skulls passed.  

The gang of thugs turned right and entered the maze of alleyways that served as a sanctuary for the vermin of Kings Row. The four legged and the two legged variety alike.

One of the hoodlums swung a baseball bat and knocked over an overflowing garbage can, scattering trash and foul smelling refuse across the alley floor.

"Oh man that was freakin' gold!!" he said as he pointed at his large, muscular gang-brother. "You see the look on the store manager's face when Goro here grabbed him and dragged him over the counter?"

"Yeah I thought he was gonna mess himself", said one of the Skulls with a sneer.

"I think he did when we started beatin' on him", laughed another.

"Well that's what you get when you don't hand over the damn cash when we ask nice and polite like", said one of the gang-members who sported a shaved head and carried a bulging paper sack. Unlike the others who wore dirty white and grey uniforms, he wore black denim jeans and a black vest which marked him as a senior member of the gang. A Deaths Head.

The young miscreants laughed and jostled each other as they moved deeper into the brick labyrinth.

"And how about that geezer who was yellin' at us ta stop? The old fart looked like he was about a hunnerd years old. I didn't know whether to laugh or pop him one in the mouth."

"Lucky I made that decision for you then" guffawed one of the thugs who mimed throwing a punch and then took a long pull from the liquor bottle he held in his hand.

"Hey, Reaper. How about handing out some 'a that folding green already", said the Skull with the baseball bat as he made a half-hearted grab at the paper sack in the arms of the Deaths Head.

The gang-leader struck him hard in the mouth with the back of his hand.

"Keep your god-damn mitts to yourself, Shard", he said as his subordinate swore and wiped blood from his lips. "We divvy up when we get to the club. You know that."

Suddenly, a figure in a colourful costume stepped out from behind a rusting dumpster a short distance ahead of the gang.

"There will be no clubbing for you boys tonight. The only place you are headed is the city jail", said the figure.

The Skulls froze in their tracks. The man standing in the alley before them was clad in a red, white and blue uniform with a shield symbol on his chest. A mask of blue fabric sporting a curious red ridge hid the upper part of his face.

"Geez it's a freakin' super", breathed one of the Skulls. Several of the gang-members started to inch backward.

James took a step towards the gang-members and noted their unease with satisfaction. The costume felt good against his skin. From the moment he had put it on he had felt upright and righteous and strong. He felt as if he could take on the world. This gang of petty ruffians would be no problem at all.

The Deaths Head stood his ground. His eyes narrowed behind his mask.

"Carver?" he called.

One of the thugs responded to his leader's call.

"I know every super that's ever hit the Row, boss", he said. "But I 'aint heard nothin' about this red, white and blue fool."

"Great", breathed one of the other gang-members. "That means we don't know what powers the dude has."

"Powers?", said James. "I don't need powers to deal with a bunch of hoodlums like you."

The instant the words were out of his mouth, James knew that he had made a stupid mistake. Much of the fear that he had sensed from the Skulls before now evaporated. Now he was just a man. A man outnumbered six to one.

"Nice going, Rockwell" he thought to himself. "You get an 'A' for bravado but an 'F' for intelligence."

The Deaths Head strolled over to the alley wall and leant up against it. He set down the paper sack full of stolen cash and casually lit a cigarette.

"Ah this is boring me already", he said. "An extra cut of the cash to whoever kills this clown."

"Yeahhhhh!", yelled one of the Skulls as he rushed forward and threw a punch at James' face.

James slipped the blow and struck the thug on the chin with a powerful left jab that stopped him in his tracks. He quickly followed up with a solid kick to the Skull's ribs and a right cross to his temple which drove him across the alley and into the wall. James watched as the young miscreant slid to the ground, senseless. It was a perfect 'Directe Fouette Directe' combination that would have made his Savate master proud.

Cracking his knuckles, James turned toward the other gang-members and spoke.

"I really don't want to hurt you guys but I will if I have to, so let's just…."

James turned just in time to see the hulking Skull called Goro, head down, charging at him like a rhino. The thug's shoulder struck him in the abdomen and all the breath in James' body left his lungs in one tremendous exhalation. The burly gang-member's charge slammed James into the brick wall of the alley. Pain erupted in the back of his head and across his shoulders.

Gritting his teeth, James' knee came up to strike the Skull hard in the solar plexus. As the thug grunted in pain, James brought an elbow down onto his spine. The Skull's hold loosened and James was able to break his grip and shove him backward. Before he had time to get his bearings a ham-sized fist crashed into his jaw and he stumbled sideways as his mouth filled with the coppery taste of blood.

The brawny Skull swung again. James dodged sideways and delivered two powerful right hooks into Goro's ribcage which did not even slow the muscular youth down. A back-handed blow from the gang-member sent James reeling. Then the thug's huge hands were around James' neck. He was hoisted bodily off the ground and once again slammed into the alley wall.

James fought for breath as Goro's hands squeezed his throat like a vice. His boots, now several inches off the ground, kicked ineffectually against the thug's legs. As his face turned beet-red and his vision began to dim, James could feel the onset of panic. In desperation he cupped his gloved hands and clapped them over the burly hoodlum's ears.

The Skull bellowed in pain and released his iron grip. James dropped to the ground, coughing and sucking in painful lung-fulls of air. The thug blistered the air with a string of expletives as he clutched at his wounded ears. Still wheezing, James raised himself to one knee and drove an uppercut straight into the gang-member's groin.

A strangled cry of pain escaped the thug's lips as he doubled over and fell sideways to the ground.

Giving him no time to recover, the remaining gang-members rushed in and tore at James like a pack of hyenas scenting blood in the air. James ducked under the swing of a crowbar that had meant to turn his skull into bloody pulp and rose to strike the wielder under the chin with the heel of his hand. The thug's head snapped backward and James followed through with a kick to his solar plexus. The thug dropped the crowbar and doubled over, gasping for breath.

James sensed movement behind him and began to spin around. Too late. The baseball bat struck the back of his right leg with tremendous force and James fell to his knees once more. An empty beer bottle smashed against the side of his head causing bright stars to explode in front of his eyes as flying shards of glass cut the exposed flesh on his face.

"Knock one outta the park, Rat!", James heard the Deaths Head call to the gang-member with the bat.

James shook his head. His vision cleared just in time to see the thug's bat whistling through the air toward his head with bone-shattering force. He rolled sideways at the last second and his foot lashed out at the thug's leg. There was an audible popping noise as James' boot connected with the side of the Skulls' knee and the young hoodlum dropped to the ground, wailing like a banshee.

James regained his feet once again. The Skull who had smashed the beer bottle across his head now thrust the jagged glass neck at his stomach. James turned sideways so that the improvised shiv missed him by mere millimetres. He grabbed the thug's wrist and spun in a counter-clockwise motion, breaking his balance. Then, locking the Skull's wrist and spinning back in a clockwise direction, James completed the 'Kote Gaeshi' technique and sent the gang-member crashing to the ground. A solid punch between the eyes from James' leather-clad fist ensured that he would not be getting up again anytime soon.

James turned toward the last Skull and tried to stalk toward him in a menacing fashion however he could not avoid favouring his uninjured leg which was resulting in a pronounced limp.

"It's over, pal!" he growled at the Skull as he drew closer. "Give it u…."

There was a swift flash of steel and a sharp, biting pain in James' midsection. Time seemed to stand still as he looked down and stared, dumbfounded, at the crimson slash-wound that had appeared across his abdomen.

It what felt like slow-motion, he raised his head to look at the gang-member who he now saw held a long switchblade knife in one hand. The Skull brandished the wickedly sharp blade and specks of saliva flew from his mouth that was twisted with hatred and anger.

"GONNA GUT YOU LIKE A FISH, SUCKA!!!" he screamed.

The realisation that he could be only moments away from his own death struck James like an avalanche so that he was barely able to move when the Skull came at him again. He managed to shift sideways just enough so that a wicked knife thrust aimed at his throat tore at the flesh of his shoulder instead. The thug stepped back, swiftly spun on his heel and drove his booted foot into James' stomach.

James doubled over and grimaced in pain. The Skull came at him again, stabbing and slashing. The blade cut silver arcs through the air as James was forced to backpedal in the face of the onslaught.

Once again, James' back was against the wall of the alley. The Skull shrieked like a demon and thrust the knife at his chest. James dodged sideways and the thug's blade snapped as it met the unyielding brick. James grabbed the Skull by the front of his shirt with both hands and yanked him forward into a brutal head-butt. The gang-member's bone mask shattered into a dozen pieces as James forehead slammed into his face. Locking both his hands around the back of the Skull's neck, James smashed his knee into the thug's midsection. Once. Twice. Three times. The Skull collapsed to the ground with a pitiful groan.

James took a long, deep breathe. Things certainly hadn't gone the way he had expected. Not like in the comic books that was for sure. Despite the fact that the whole fight had lasted only a few minutes he felt completely exhausted. His entire body ached as if it had been tenderised. Which in a way it had been, he thought wryly. A massive bruise was beginning to form on his jaw where he had been punched and there was a bone-deep, throbbing pain in his leg.

Still, only the Deaths Head was now left to face him. But he was still leaning against the alley wall some distance away, smoking.

Covering the wound across his abdomen with his arm, James slowly advanced on the gang- leader. To his confusion, the thug made no attempt to attack or flee. He simply remained leaning against the wall of the alley with his arms crossed in front of him. The end of the cigarette in the corner of his mouth glowed a baleful orange as he watched James approach.

When he was no more than a dozen feet away from the black-clad thug, James stopped. He turned his head and spat blood onto the concrete before he fixed the Skull with a determined glare.

"Now, are you going to be smart and come along quietly?" he said hoarsely.

"Sure thing spandex-boy", said the Deaths Head as he straightened up and flicked his cigarette across the alley. "This quiet enough for you?"

Quick as a snake, he reached behind his back. His right hand came up holding a semi-automatic pistol that was now pointed straight at James' chest.

The gun thundered as James attempted to dive sideways out of the bullet's path. However the beating he had endured had sapped his speed to dangerously low levels. Heat and pain blossomed in his left shoulder as he fell to the hard, unforgiving concrete.

The Deaths Head pumped his fist into the air in a gesture of triumph.

"Hoo hoo hooooo! He shoots and he SCORES!" he whooped.

James lay on his side on the filthy alley floor. He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned as a crimson stream pumped from his shoulder. His temples pounded as he clamped his free hand over the bullet wound in an attempt to staunch the flow of life-giving vitae.

The Skull casually sauntered over to James and planted a savage kick into his ribcage. James stifled a cry of pain.

"Man, you are GREEN spandex-boy" the thug laughed. "Y'ever done this before?"

Another kick thudded into James' ribs. Another explosion of pain.

"I'm thinkin' not."

The Deaths Head's boot sank into James' abdomen once again. James fought to remain conscious as agony roared through him like a freight train.

"Well then y'picked the wrong crew ta tangle with on yer first night, man. My boys almost took you down all on their lonesome. You sure as Hell ain't no Statesman, fool."

Through the grinding pain, James realised that this young creep was no idiot. He had hung back during the melee looking relaxed and completely unconcerned. What he had really been doing was using his gang brother's attack to take stock of James' skill and abilities. And obviously what he had seen had not intimidated him.

"Man, the dudes down at the Chaos Club are gonna go ape when I bring 'em a gen-yoo-ine do-gooder mask to hang over the bar", said the Deaths Head as he squatted on his haunches next to James. "But it's missin' one thing."

He pressed his index finger hard against the middle of James' forehead.

"Yeah. It be missin' a nice little nine millimetre hole right about here."

James eyes locked with those of the gang leader. Still grasping his injured shoulder, he returned the thug's smirk with a grim smile of his own as his free hand opened and the small flash-bang grenade he had palmed from his belt fell to the concrete.

The Deaths Head gaped as James rolled away. The exertion sent fresh waves of pain tearing through his body.

James squeezed his eyes tightly shut and threw his arm over his face a split-second before the small grenade erupted in a burst of dazzling white light and a brief but ear-splitting roar.

The Skull leader fell backward and dropped his pistol as he wailed and clutched at his eyes.

Using every last vestige of strength in his body, James managed to push himself to his feet. He reeled sideways and his shoulder struck the alley wall leaving a bloody smear. He bit down hard on his bottom lip to keep from screaming. Bile rose in his throat and his vision swam in and out of focus. Leaning his bodyweight against the wall to keep from collapsing, James staggered deeper into the alley.

The Deaths Head was cursing at the top of his lungs and it sounded to James as if he was blindly searching the alley floor for his gun.

"You &%$@#!!", he yelled. "I'm gonna KILL YOU! I'M GONNA FREAKIN' KILL YOU!!"

James could just see the outline of his high-powered motorcycle where he had left it hidden behind another dumpster when he heard a harsh cry of triumph from behind him.

"EAT THIS YOU MOTHER%$#&!!", screamed the Deaths Head as he regained his pistol and began firing wildly down the alleyway.

James ducked as a bullet struck the wall above his head, sending chunks of brick flying through the air. He threw himself behind the dumpster and landed next to his motorcycle. Fresh waves of agony ripped through his body as another bullet ricocheted off the metal of the dumpster.

James' vision dimmed. Right now all he wanted was nothing more than to close his eyes and let unconsciousness carry him away from all the pain.

Unbidden, a voice full of fury and determination rose up from deep inside him.

"No! On your feet, Rockwell! Your mother didn't raise a quitter and your grandfather didn't fight his way across half of Europe so that you could die in a stinking alley! Now get on your damn feet!!"

Reaching up, James grabbed the seat of his motorcycle and hauled himself upright as two more bullets whined down the alleyway. Groaning in pain, he straddled the bike, turned the key in the ignition and thumbed the starter switch. The powerful engine came to life with a mighty roar.

James jammed the throttle into high. The bike and rider skidded out from behind the dumpster and raced down the alley towards the Deaths Head.

The gang-leader, who was now rapidly regaining his eyesight, stood his ground and levelled his pistol at the oncoming bike.

James felt the heat of a bullet as it passed frighteningly close to the side of his head. Another slug of hot metal blew away one of the bike's rear-view mirrors. He bore down on the Deaths Head and at the last possible moment, swerved to the left as the gang-leader dove to the right.

The Skull came to rest in a pile of wet cardboard and rotten garbage. He screamed in fury as James shot out of the mouth of the alley and sped off into the night.