"Hereford Block is your next stop, isn't it?" The old taxi driver asked, his eyes locked onto his rear mirror.
And to be honest, it wasn't until he said something that I realised that my brain had been in aeroplane mode all the way to this place. It was an empty, dark street that was illuminated by a few streetlights. It looked like something drawn out of a tournament setting and placed exactly here as an inspiration.
"Yes, this is my stop." At my confirmation, the driver gently rode to a stop, adjusting his rear mirror as I stepped out of the taxi.
I handed him a five-dollar note, the same one Aria had given to me after I spent minutes pleading with her to stay back and not follow me. If anything, Sancho was my problem from the beginning, and if she meddled in more with my affairs, it'd only cause me more trouble from his brother's gang.
The explanation sounded logical, except that Aria caught on quickly when she remembered that I'd tossed my last coin into the punching machine. She'd slapped her face disappointedly and handed me the dollar note.
"Take this." She'd said. "Just in case you don't come back alive, I don't want the bureau alleging me for not trying to save your ass."
And candidly, five dollars didn't really count much as a saving point. In literal terms, she'd given me some money to take a ride towards my death. Even worse, if I survived, I needed to pay back with full 100% interest.
"Be careful out here, son." The old man called out to me before I turned towards the warehouse. "This block is infamous for being a gang territory." Then his eyes studied me, a brutal face and body scan. "And you don't look like one."
I laughed, nervously at least.
"I'll be fine," I said, trying to sound convincing but still failing at it. "I'm just here to see a friend."
Great going, Ren. Now he's gonna think you have a friend who hangs out in a gang's territory.
And he probably did, because the expression on his face changed from 'he's innocent' to 'he's one of them, I see'. He didn't say anything afterwards. Just a nod, and then he drove off.
I sighed as I watched his car disappear from the street axis, my brain still beating itself up for the embarrassment. But anyway, that wasn't the main concern. Somewhere in that warehouse, Rowan was probably being trapped. And I had...ten minutes left?
The warehouse didn't look like anything special. From the outside, it was just an abandoned large building that seemed to have suffered quite the damages. Broken debris, shattered windows on all sides, and a large metal door that seemed to have been smashed in with a crowbar one too many times.
The lock was broken anyway. I picked up the crowbar lying right at the entrance way, then ushered myself in through the door. The creaking echoed loudly, a nice way to announce my arrival, but unfortunately, it didn't seem that much of an announcement.
The place was empty, the only life there being pale rays of the evening sunlight washing in through the window shutters. Just that and nothing else.
Huh? Where's he?
Then I heard something like a blow. THWACK. It came from above me. My eyes wandered up to the roof, but there was no roof. Just a debris ceiling instead of the usual aluminium layers that warehouses use for their roofing.
Except that... This building had two floors.
THWACK! I heard it again, and this time, I didn't miss the muffled groan that came alongside. I searched around for the stairway to the second floor. It was situated behind a corner at the end of the warehouse. I climbed up, which was more of a speed test with the way I leapt over most steps like they didn't matter.
And just when I took the very last step, Rowan came into sight. He was on a wooden chair, hands and legs tied to the handles. A black cloth was wrapped around his mouth, his face sore and bloody.
And behind him was Sancho. The bastard was holding a small knife, cleaning the blade on a cloth, probably the stains of Rowan's blood from where he'd stabbed him one too many times.
"You psycho—"
"Turns out thirty minutes was too much time for my patience." Sancho's eyes settled on me, and an evil grin too. "But on the bright side, you're still on time. So maybe your friend still has a chance."
My frown deepened at him. "What do you mean by that? You said you were gonna let him go if I showed up."
"Now now, Ren." I heard him suck in air for three seconds. "You didn't think it was going to be that easy, did you? Your showing up was only the first phase. You still have to earn the save."
"Sure, I'll fight you."
"Don't get ahead of yourself, Ren. You still have to defeat these guys first." I was about to ask what guys he was talking about, since it was obviously only the three of us in the room.
But then, from nowhere, a bunch of dudes stepped out. Some emerging from a dark corner, others coming up the stairway. They totalled to about ten men— instinctive counting. Each of them held bats or knives or long metal rods. And they surrounded me, like a bunch of predators on a coordinated hunt.
"Isn't it quite the setup, Ren? I bet you wouldn't be able to survive the second phase." He laughed for a few seconds, then it dissolved into something darker. "What are you gonna do Ren? Your friend's life is counting on it."
When he placed the knife's edge near Rowan's neck, my brain rushed through with sudden anxiety. Ten guys around me, a knife near my subject's throat. And yet, I needed to reveal the fight in the dog.
"What am I going to do?" My eyes locked brutally onto him, then I dropped the crowbar, raising my fists. "The real question is, how are you gonna save yourself?"
I charged first, my eyes concluding the guy who was dropping his defence the most. I kicked his bat upwards. It landed hard on his nose and he fell.
Some other guy reached from behind me with a swing. I ducked, grabbing the bat on his second try and twisted viciously. He registered the pain in his arm before I threw a kick into his guts.
Someone swiped a switchblade, his entire body veering forward with the force. I grabbed his wrist, JAB! Knocked the knife out of his palm and did a complete roll with his arm on his shoulder. AARGH– he yelled, incoherent as I threw a punch directly into his face.
The next guy's only attempt was running towards me, when I leapt up and drove a left foot kick into his mouth. Blood splattered alongside a few teeth as he dropped unconscious to the ground.
That's four down. Six to go.
Two guys approached me from either side, one holding a bat. The older holding a metal rod. I grabbed the first guy reactively, pinning his hands backwards and using him as a body shield against the other guy. The metal rod landed cleanly against the first guy's guts before I shoved him away.
While the other one was distracted, KICK! I shot the rod of his hands, landing a brutal punch to his face before he could react.
Honestly, it was worth losing his balance for. After days of revisiting that punch meter in the arcade, my punch level was probably above 300 now. My fists felt hot too.
Six down. Four to go.
The next attack came as a spike. I barely dodged, and it landed in the far wall behind me. An ability user. Finally. I was starting to think these guys were complete crap.
Three guys rushed at me with knives, heavy breathing charged as they swatted at me. From the angle they surrounded me at, I couldn't dodge perfectly. One of them managed to slit an open wound in my arm, and I felt the other in my leg, losing my balance for a split second.
I punched whatever was in front of me, but he dodged. And SLICE! Another cut went through my back, more stinging than the last. I didn't know how fast it all happened, but I was dropkicked to the floor, barely balancing on all fours.
"Tsk tsk, and just a few minutes ago, you sounded like you had things covered." Sancho nodded, sheer disappointment evident in his voice. "I guess this is the end for you, Ren." He waved at me, fingers toodling at me. "I'll catch up with you later."
The guy in front of me drove his knife immediately towards my chest. But I caught it before he could make his move, gripping it by the blade. It was painful, but it was way better than dying. My palms bled down my arms as I twisted his grip, redirecting the blade towards his thigh.
SLICE! He screamed as it went in, holding on to the hilt gently like it was his lifeline. Then I stood up and kicked the hilt again, confirming that the blade was completely pierced.
"What the fuck—"
As he went down to the floor. I retrieved the knife with force, enjoying every bit of his scream as the pain seemed to ripple through his soul. WHISH! I threw the knife towards a second knife guy, and it landed in his right shoulder.
The next went down through an elbow hit to his face. He dropped down immediately. Nine down, ten to go.
The last guy was the ability user. He spawned another knife and shot it at me. Rapid. Precise. At some speed I could barely register. But I still did. I caught the knife just as it was one centimetre from hitting my eyes.
Then I turned the knife over. Threw again. It was tossed in the air and landed on his left shoulder. Apparently, he was only built for distance attacks, not speed and reflex.
And there, I thought he'd be at least a little tougher than the rest.
"You know what I like about you, bastard?" I said exhaustedly, facing Sancho and wiping blood off my cheek. "Just like Tyler, your stupidity always remains consistent."
"You fucker—"
"Come at me, you motherfucker!"