Fighting. Battle. Violence. These were things that I innately understood. Virtues I lived by from the moment I could understand what they meant. Now, I know how that might sound, making me out to be some villain or thug. However, I still had a code. Maybe not a good one, but it was mine. I only fought those who should be fought. Those like me, the violent type. I liked to meet violence with even greater violence.
It was middle school when I actually got into my first real scrap. A small group of boys, around four of them, were bullying a smaller kid who wore glasses. Most would try to get help, call someone, or even walk away. Not me. I charged. I tackled the closest boy, hammering him into the ground. Fist after fist, I wailed upon him until there was no fight left in the boy.
The others, although caught off guard, quickly came to their friend’s rescue. I fought as well as I could; however, I was untrained and had no experience beyond raw instinct. So, I lost. Pretty badly, though I gave as good as I got. That was my last day at that school; I was soon transferred to another. Next thing I knew, I had gone through thirteen middle schools and twenty-seven high schools across four states. I ended up dropping out upon turning eighteen.
It didn’t help my case that I was an orphan, as no one knew what happened to my birth parents. Still, I didn’t have bad foster homes or anything like that, as they tended to be more scared of me than I was of them. No one really understood me, which was why there was no one to connect to. Well, other than the various other kids who idolized me, following me around like I was some gang boss. I never cared for any of that, and with how much I was moved around, they never stuck with me for long.
After dropping out, I thought the next thing that made the most sense was joining the military. However, I didn’t even make it out of basic before I ended up trying to fight one of the instructors and got kicked out. That’s when I found out I really did not like taking orders from those I held no respect for. I mean, they never gave me a reason to respect them and just started yelling.
After that, it was one odd job after another. Construction. Janitor. Bouncer. Security. None of them lasted long. Usually for the same reasons.
Then one day, not too long after my twenty-second birthday, I saw a group of guys harassing some lady. I saw it as a perfect chance to bash in some skulls and get my blood pumping.
Without waiting or saying a damn thing, I charged over and drop-kicked one of the men into the nearby wall. I pivoted on the ground, sweeping my leg toward another and knocking him down. At this point in my life, I had become a much better fighter, mostly through raw experience, though I did gain some training during my short military stint and the various fighting courses I tried before getting kicked out for being too brutal.
Well, the remaining three guys ignored the woman and ran toward me, with one of them even bringing out a knife. I was back on my feet by the time they got close, with the knife-wielder being first. He thrust with all his might, trying to impale me. I sidestepped, palming his outstretched arm to push it away, then elbowed him in the chin with my other arm. His body fell limp.
The other two came at me, one on each side, both yelling a string of curses that I completely ignored. I put my guard up, taking their blows. I felt the pain in my arms, yet it only made my smile widen. Feeling a small gap, I kicked out, straight at the shins of the guy on the left, causing him to buckle and scream.
Something snapped!
The other guy paused in horror at seeing his last comrade go down. Not wasting my chance, I grabbed both sides of his head and brought his face down onto my knee. With a loud crunch and a spurt of blood, he fell backward, barely conscious. At first, I thought that was that, and I’d go on with my day as these fools rolled around, groaning in pain.
However, I had not anticipated that this small bunch was part of a larger group just around the far corner of the building. I guess they heard the screams and groans and came to check it out. So, not far from me now stood a group of nearly twenty individuals, clearly part of a major city gang.
Still, I wasn’t one to shy away from a fight, no matter how disadvantaged I was. I licked my slightly chapped lips, put my hands up before my face, and slowly curled my fingers into fists.
I must have truly shocked them, as the group just stood there for a solid moment before doing anything. That quickly changed when the man at the lead pulled a handgun from his waistband.
My eyes narrowed with caution as I immediately dashed to my left, seeking cover at the corner of the nearby building. The shot rang out as I felt a stinging pain in my left arm where the bullet grazed me. Then I heard the leading man yell something I couldn’t understand, most likely in some other language.
I stood with my back against the wall of the building as I peeked around the corner and saw the large group start running toward me. I glanced around, but there was no better area to fight that I could reach before they had me dead in their sights. So I would hold my ground at this corner. At the very least, before they took me down, I’d get a few of them as they came around.
At least, that was the idea I had at the time.
The first one who came around had a shocked Pikachu face, seeing me standing right there instead of running into the distance. I sent a straight jab right at his face, easily breaking his nose and causing him to stumble back. The next two were more prepared. The closer guy brought out his gun, yet I was already in his personal space.
I grabbed the top of his arm with one hand and used my elbow to come up from underneath, snapping it in the middle! The man screamed and dropped the gun, yet I was unable to go for it as the other man was right on top of me, his fist already mid-swing toward my face. Not having much time for options, I swung my head, full-force headbutting his fist, causing both of us to groan in pain.
He took a step back, wincing as I kicked out, getting him right in the stomach. Another two came around just in time. The closest held a knife out, swiping left and right as I backed away.
Then he made the mistake of thrusting instead of swiping. I twisted my body, got in close, hooked my arm around his, and grabbed on with my other hand. Applying pressure, I got him to loosen his grip and snatched the knife as he let go. Holding it in a reverse grip, I swung it back and stabbed him in the neck.
As one of the other guys got close, I pushed the man I had just stabbed into the oncoming foe, forcing him to catch his own buddy. The third man came dashing from the side, his fists raised.
I replied in kind, the knife in a reverse grip in one hand and my other empty as I met him head-on. He gave two quick jabs as I ducked and weaved, with only one of his hits scraping the side of my head. I stomped on his foot, unbalancing him, and shot forth, getting inside his defense.
Then I stabbed. Stabbed again. And again. Then finally, I stabbed once more! All straight into his stomach.
Yet, as that man fell back, clutching his stomach, I felt an agonizing pain in my chest as I stumbled, then fell onto my back. I remember the sound of the gunshots; however, I don’t remember the shooters or how many there were. The last thing I saw was the half-dozen bloody holes in my chest.
You know, in those final moments, I gave one last bloody smile with full satisfaction and zero regret. I didn’t even hate the guys. Hell, I was actually thankful that they were doing some bullshit like harassing that lady, as it gave me the perfect excuse to whoop some ass! In the end, it was a hell of a fight and a way to go! I couldn’t complain because I gave it my best. Well, at least I thought that would have been my end.
After all, the thing I saw next, I was wholly unprepared for. I found myself standing, unharmed, yet in the middle of a loud battle unlike any I had ever experienced.
As far as my eyes could see, there were soldiers, the kind you’d see in some historical show about ancient warfare. Millions of ancient warriors, wielding swords, axes, hammers, and a myriad of other weapons, waged a brutal, bloody battle! I could distinctly make out two sides, yet had no idea who was winning.
The real head-turner, though, was the battle in the skies. A few thousand were fighting up there, both in close quarters and flinging what looked like magic spells. Then a rain of arrows blotted out the sky on one side, piercing the far side of the battlefield and killing untold numbers.
"Holy fuck!" was all I could say in that moment. However, those words that came out of my mouth didn’t sound fearful or worried. No, they sounded excited.