| Fantasy Fiction posted September 20, 2020 | Chapters: |
...6 7 -8- 9... 
|
  |
Problems arise
A chapter in the book Another Life
A Clean Death
by lancellot
The author has placed a warning on this post for violence.
The author has placed a warning on this post for language.
| Background Paul Escamilla was a US Soldier, who died and was reincarnated into a new world. Now, sixteen, he is still searching for other reincarnated members of his old team when his mom is targeted by thieves. |
Paul didn’t intercept the blond teen. He walked a short distance away and watched the show. Seeing him leave must have been all the boy was waiting for. Like a rookie in basic training, he took off with a burst of speed, a spin around an old man, a duck under the hands of a loving couple, and then a sudden and slight bump.
“Oh, excuse me,” he said with a smile.
Rosetta blushed and returned his smile. “No harm was done.”
She was such a good person Paul knew she would never guess she had just been robbed. Paul felt a pang of guilt at using her as bait, and then a burst of anger. Though no physical harm was committed, Rosetta had been victimized before his eyes. The sudden realization brought an unexpected spike of heat within him. He took off in pursuit.
Paul slowed his pace, seeing he could not run the older boy down. Instead, he headed down the side streets. It didn’t take long before he spotted teen number two. The dark-haired puberty-stricken teen crouched under a deserted awning. Paul was about to approach when he noticed his lips move. Paul looked across from him and hidden in the shadows was another person; slender, smaller, and dirtier than the other two. The face was slight and difficult to assess. Well, dirty or clean, two or three, it didn’t matter much to Paul. Even at his size, he reckoned he could handle at least four unarmed teens.
Paul decided to conceal himself. He needed all three at once, and like a wish come true, the older boy arrived wearing a huge smile of success.
He came into the alley like a conquering hero. “Who has the fastest hands in the land,” he crooned and tilted his head to the filthiest boy.
“Joqumoe,” came a high pitch reply.
“Who captures hearts with only a glance?”
“Joqumoe,” repeated whom Paul now realized was a female.
“Who runs faster than a speeding…”
Paul had heard enough. He needed to question them, not watch a bragging show. He stepped out into the middle of the alley.
“Who is that?” Joqumoe asked.
Joqumoe’s two companions instantly jumped to either side of who was clearly the leader of the trio. Paul didn’t think they would run from someone of his size, and he was right, but they weren’t fools either. While Joqumoe stared him up and down, the eyes of the other two quickly scanned everything around them. Paul had no doubt they were well-rehearsed in team fighting and, if needed making a strategic exit. The look in the braggart’s eyes showed curiosity at first as his brows narrowed, and then recognition but not an iota of fear.
“Yes, you’re the… son?” His smile returned, just as big as before. “Come to get your mommy’s coins back, little man?”
He was a pretty boy, and his bright smile seemed to be a weapon he used to disarm his victims, while his hands…
Paul closely followed his hands. He held the pouch up and bounced it in his right. His left hand slipped behind his back, and just as covertly, the other boy slid what Paul guessed to be a small knife into his palm. Well, that explains why they aren’t running. Paul was a bit amazed at how quickly and silently the decision to kill was made. They had to know he could never catch all of them if they ran, but it was clear they did not want to leave anyone who could identify them. The ruthlessness and efficiency of their thinking impressed him. But he needed to be sure they weren’t his friends in despair at arriving in a new world and took to a life of crime.
“Recon Squad 31 will never die. Rangers for life. Is that you, Jeff, Frank, Marty?” he shouted in English.
Joqumoe’ s face instantly changed. His smile dropped, his nostrils flared, and his eyes narrowed to thin slits. “Are you trying to cast a spell on us, you little shit? You don’t know magic.”
Paul raised his empty hands and slowly approached them. There was a slight tremble in the dark-haired boy and the girl… the girl, looked… her small brown eyes darted from her leader to Paul. She took a half step back but got no further. Joqumoe looked down at her for just the briefest moment, but it was enough.
In that slight glance, Paul read his message. “You can run, but after I kill this little rat, I will find you, and then you will wish you were dead too.” Or he could have just said, “Bitch don’t leave me.”
Paul didn’t believe in magic, but it was evident he was alone in that. “I have no magic. I thought you were someone I knew,” he said in Valerian and then added. “I see you’re not, so if you would just hand over my mother’s pouch, I’ll be on my way.” Paul thought it was a reasonable request, that wouldn’t happen.
The fight lasted longer than Paul initially figured. Paul had to admit, he was horribly out of shape, and his smaller body simply couldn’t do the things his mind asked of it. Second, what began as a one on one match quickly, though not unexpected, devolved into a three on one struggle to the death. Despite Joqumoe’s larger size and strength, he was no match for Paul's military training, experience, and Dominic’s lessons. Paul disarmed him twice, but each time he did, one of the others would produce a blade from within their robes and toss it to him. But by then Paul had, acquired two knives of his own.
After a few superficial cuts to his arms and legs, the fearless leader became fearful. “Enough, surround him and take him down.”
The girl was the easiest. She was the smallest and weakest. A backhand to the jaw and a solid jab to the liver put her down for the count.
Seemingly in disgust, Joqumoe gave her a swift kick to the face.
The sound of her small nose popping and the spray of blood as she whimpered in pain infuriated Paul. Yes, Paul had just beaten her down himself, but that was self-defense. Plus, as a modern soldier, seeing females fight was one thing, seeing them abused after they lost was something else.
It became apparent the two older boys were used to fighting together as their moves and counters flowed better without the girl. It was also evident that the female meant next to nothing to either male as they didn't give her a second glance. Paul didn’t know why, but this enraged him even more as he thought about what possible use she was for them.
Paul allowed puberty boy to get a glancing hit on him so he could fake dizziness. As expected, the fool leaped at the chance to finish him off.
Joqumoe must have sensed the tactic. “Ben, wait, he’s fa…”
But he was too late. Ben took a wide lefthanded slash at Paul’s seemingly exposed neck with his blade. Paul quickly ducked under his attack, slid inside his guard, and stuck his knife about three inches into the left side of Ben’s abdomen, away from any vital organs. It was a disabling blow, a non-fatal hit designed to disable. At least that was the intention.
Ben howled in pain, but instead of dropping his blade, he reversed it and attempted to bury it into Paul’s ear. Having no choice, Paul slid to his left. But this had two effects. First, it made Ben miss, as his blade whisked past the top of Paul’s head, which was good for Paul. The second was as Paul was moving to his left; Ben was twisting his body in the opposite direction. Unfortunately for Ben, Paul’s knife was still inside him. Paul’s blade traversed half of the teen’s body. Paul rolled away just as Ben’s intestines were getting their first-ever taste of fresh air.
At that point, things got even more hectic, as they tend to do when death enters a battle. Joqumoe screamed something about killing his brother before he lunged. Yes, Paul killed Ben, that was never his intention, but internal organs aren’t meant to be seen.
Where Joqumoe had been precise in his fighting before Ben’s disembowelment, he quickly became wild and sloppy. Emotion can blind even the best fighter and usually at the worst time. Joqumoe wasn’t the best, he was good, but it was the worse time for him. As for Paul, he simply fell back into his training. He ignored the blood-soaked body on the ground, the howling girl, and his role in killing a boy. He simply marked the corpse as an obstacle to be avoided and focused on the task at hand. A quick dodge of an errant kick, followed by a slice across an exposed tendon, a spin and a stab to Joqumoe’ s knee, and the fight was over. It should have been over there but-.
“You little piece of shit.” Joqumoe bared his strangely perfect teeth and raised his fists. “You think you’ve won. You think you can just walk away. I’ll find you and kill you. I’ll get you and your mom. I’ll slit her throat and fuck her dying body, right in your face.”
“All this for a few coins you didn’t earn. You could have just given it back. I never wanted to fight….”
“I’m going to kill you. Do you hear me? I swear it. I swear before the gods. I’ll wipe out your entire family.”
Joqumoe wasn’t listening. He continued like that for several minutes. Telling Paul all the vile things he was going to do to strangers, he robbed and attacked. Anyway, Paul lent him his ear; after all, he had killed the thief’s brother and crippled him for life. Paul figured he owed him something.
The sun was getting low; the girl was lying on the ground in a fetal position, silently looking from Paul to Joqumoe as if she was seeing both for the first time.
Her leader, or whatever Joqumoe was to her, had gone from screaming at Paul to yelling at her. “Crista, you bitch. Get up and kill him. Throw me your knife, and I’ll kill him. Crista!”
Paul shook his head, as if either of those options would work. He figured Joqumoe was in shock or insane. Paul didn’t much care which, but there were three things he quickly understood as the sun began to set.
1) He was running out of time; sooner or later, someone would come into the alley.
2) If someone did come, it was two voices against one, and he would be accused of murder.
3) Paul began to believe every threat Joqumoe made.
When Paul laid it all out logically, there was only one option.
While he was distracted, Paul jumped down upon the bleeding boy, pinning his arms.
“You little fuck. I’m going to kill you…” Joqumoe's mouth hung open, and his eyes grew wide as Paul pressed the tip of his knife to his throat.
Paul leaned to Joqumoe’ s ear. “I believe you.” He pushed the knife deep into the teen’s trembling flesh. When it hit resistance, Paul shoved harder, until he heard the crunch of bone. His throat was still spasming when Paul gave the blade a sharp twist. Joqumoe was terrible, but he was a fighter. He deserved a clean death.
Paul pulled out his bloody knife and then locked eyes with Crista. "Well, I guess you're not going to just forget all this, are you?"
“Oh, excuse me,” he said with a smile.
Rosetta blushed and returned his smile. “No harm was done.”
She was such a good person Paul knew she would never guess she had just been robbed. Paul felt a pang of guilt at using her as bait, and then a burst of anger. Though no physical harm was committed, Rosetta had been victimized before his eyes. The sudden realization brought an unexpected spike of heat within him. He took off in pursuit.
Paul slowed his pace, seeing he could not run the older boy down. Instead, he headed down the side streets. It didn’t take long before he spotted teen number two. The dark-haired puberty-stricken teen crouched under a deserted awning. Paul was about to approach when he noticed his lips move. Paul looked across from him and hidden in the shadows was another person; slender, smaller, and dirtier than the other two. The face was slight and difficult to assess. Well, dirty or clean, two or three, it didn’t matter much to Paul. Even at his size, he reckoned he could handle at least four unarmed teens.
Paul decided to conceal himself. He needed all three at once, and like a wish come true, the older boy arrived wearing a huge smile of success.
He came into the alley like a conquering hero. “Who has the fastest hands in the land,” he crooned and tilted his head to the filthiest boy.
“Joqumoe,” came a high pitch reply.
“Who captures hearts with only a glance?”
“Joqumoe,” repeated whom Paul now realized was a female.
“Who runs faster than a speeding…”
Paul had heard enough. He needed to question them, not watch a bragging show. He stepped out into the middle of the alley.
“Who is that?” Joqumoe asked.
Joqumoe’s two companions instantly jumped to either side of who was clearly the leader of the trio. Paul didn’t think they would run from someone of his size, and he was right, but they weren’t fools either. While Joqumoe stared him up and down, the eyes of the other two quickly scanned everything around them. Paul had no doubt they were well-rehearsed in team fighting and, if needed making a strategic exit. The look in the braggart’s eyes showed curiosity at first as his brows narrowed, and then recognition but not an iota of fear.
“Yes, you’re the… son?” His smile returned, just as big as before. “Come to get your mommy’s coins back, little man?”
He was a pretty boy, and his bright smile seemed to be a weapon he used to disarm his victims, while his hands…
Paul closely followed his hands. He held the pouch up and bounced it in his right. His left hand slipped behind his back, and just as covertly, the other boy slid what Paul guessed to be a small knife into his palm. Well, that explains why they aren’t running. Paul was a bit amazed at how quickly and silently the decision to kill was made. They had to know he could never catch all of them if they ran, but it was clear they did not want to leave anyone who could identify them. The ruthlessness and efficiency of their thinking impressed him. But he needed to be sure they weren’t his friends in despair at arriving in a new world and took to a life of crime.
“Recon Squad 31 will never die. Rangers for life. Is that you, Jeff, Frank, Marty?” he shouted in English.
Joqumoe’ s face instantly changed. His smile dropped, his nostrils flared, and his eyes narrowed to thin slits. “Are you trying to cast a spell on us, you little shit? You don’t know magic.”
Paul raised his empty hands and slowly approached them. There was a slight tremble in the dark-haired boy and the girl… the girl, looked… her small brown eyes darted from her leader to Paul. She took a half step back but got no further. Joqumoe looked down at her for just the briefest moment, but it was enough.
In that slight glance, Paul read his message. “You can run, but after I kill this little rat, I will find you, and then you will wish you were dead too.” Or he could have just said, “Bitch don’t leave me.”
Paul didn’t believe in magic, but it was evident he was alone in that. “I have no magic. I thought you were someone I knew,” he said in Valerian and then added. “I see you’re not, so if you would just hand over my mother’s pouch, I’ll be on my way.” Paul thought it was a reasonable request, that wouldn’t happen.
The fight lasted longer than Paul initially figured. Paul had to admit, he was horribly out of shape, and his smaller body simply couldn’t do the things his mind asked of it. Second, what began as a one on one match quickly, though not unexpected, devolved into a three on one struggle to the death. Despite Joqumoe’s larger size and strength, he was no match for Paul's military training, experience, and Dominic’s lessons. Paul disarmed him twice, but each time he did, one of the others would produce a blade from within their robes and toss it to him. But by then Paul had, acquired two knives of his own.
After a few superficial cuts to his arms and legs, the fearless leader became fearful. “Enough, surround him and take him down.”
The girl was the easiest. She was the smallest and weakest. A backhand to the jaw and a solid jab to the liver put her down for the count.
Seemingly in disgust, Joqumoe gave her a swift kick to the face.
The sound of her small nose popping and the spray of blood as she whimpered in pain infuriated Paul. Yes, Paul had just beaten her down himself, but that was self-defense. Plus, as a modern soldier, seeing females fight was one thing, seeing them abused after they lost was something else.
It became apparent the two older boys were used to fighting together as their moves and counters flowed better without the girl. It was also evident that the female meant next to nothing to either male as they didn't give her a second glance. Paul didn’t know why, but this enraged him even more as he thought about what possible use she was for them.
Paul allowed puberty boy to get a glancing hit on him so he could fake dizziness. As expected, the fool leaped at the chance to finish him off.
Joqumoe must have sensed the tactic. “Ben, wait, he’s fa…”
But he was too late. Ben took a wide lefthanded slash at Paul’s seemingly exposed neck with his blade. Paul quickly ducked under his attack, slid inside his guard, and stuck his knife about three inches into the left side of Ben’s abdomen, away from any vital organs. It was a disabling blow, a non-fatal hit designed to disable. At least that was the intention.
Ben howled in pain, but instead of dropping his blade, he reversed it and attempted to bury it into Paul’s ear. Having no choice, Paul slid to his left. But this had two effects. First, it made Ben miss, as his blade whisked past the top of Paul’s head, which was good for Paul. The second was as Paul was moving to his left; Ben was twisting his body in the opposite direction. Unfortunately for Ben, Paul’s knife was still inside him. Paul’s blade traversed half of the teen’s body. Paul rolled away just as Ben’s intestines were getting their first-ever taste of fresh air.
At that point, things got even more hectic, as they tend to do when death enters a battle. Joqumoe screamed something about killing his brother before he lunged. Yes, Paul killed Ben, that was never his intention, but internal organs aren’t meant to be seen.
Where Joqumoe had been precise in his fighting before Ben’s disembowelment, he quickly became wild and sloppy. Emotion can blind even the best fighter and usually at the worst time. Joqumoe wasn’t the best, he was good, but it was the worse time for him. As for Paul, he simply fell back into his training. He ignored the blood-soaked body on the ground, the howling girl, and his role in killing a boy. He simply marked the corpse as an obstacle to be avoided and focused on the task at hand. A quick dodge of an errant kick, followed by a slice across an exposed tendon, a spin and a stab to Joqumoe’ s knee, and the fight was over. It should have been over there but-.
“You little piece of shit.” Joqumoe bared his strangely perfect teeth and raised his fists. “You think you’ve won. You think you can just walk away. I’ll find you and kill you. I’ll get you and your mom. I’ll slit her throat and fuck her dying body, right in your face.”
“All this for a few coins you didn’t earn. You could have just given it back. I never wanted to fight….”
“I’m going to kill you. Do you hear me? I swear it. I swear before the gods. I’ll wipe out your entire family.”
Joqumoe wasn’t listening. He continued like that for several minutes. Telling Paul all the vile things he was going to do to strangers, he robbed and attacked. Anyway, Paul lent him his ear; after all, he had killed the thief’s brother and crippled him for life. Paul figured he owed him something.
The sun was getting low; the girl was lying on the ground in a fetal position, silently looking from Paul to Joqumoe as if she was seeing both for the first time.
Her leader, or whatever Joqumoe was to her, had gone from screaming at Paul to yelling at her. “Crista, you bitch. Get up and kill him. Throw me your knife, and I’ll kill him. Crista!”
Paul shook his head, as if either of those options would work. He figured Joqumoe was in shock or insane. Paul didn’t much care which, but there were three things he quickly understood as the sun began to set.
1) He was running out of time; sooner or later, someone would come into the alley.
2) If someone did come, it was two voices against one, and he would be accused of murder.
3) Paul began to believe every threat Joqumoe made.
When Paul laid it all out logically, there was only one option.
While he was distracted, Paul jumped down upon the bleeding boy, pinning his arms.
“You little fuck. I’m going to kill you…” Joqumoe's mouth hung open, and his eyes grew wide as Paul pressed the tip of his knife to his throat.
Paul leaned to Joqumoe’ s ear. “I believe you.” He pushed the knife deep into the teen’s trembling flesh. When it hit resistance, Paul shoved harder, until he heard the crunch of bone. His throat was still spasming when Paul gave the blade a sharp twist. Joqumoe was terrible, but he was a fighter. He deserved a clean death.
Paul pulled out his bloody knife and then locked eyes with Crista. "Well, I guess you're not going to just forget all this, are you?"
Characters so far:
Derrick Williams, former soldier. reborn as: Paul Escamilla , baby
Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier
Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress
Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district.
Joqumoe and Ben Garven. Teen thieves and robbers in town.
Crista. ????
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. Derrick Williams, former soldier. reborn as: Paul Escamilla , baby
Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier
Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress
Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district.
Joqumoe and Ben Garven. Teen thieves and robbers in town.
Crista. ????
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