JASON AND I STOOD AMONGST THE WOULD-BE GANG RAPISTS with no fear. We had been working our way from town to town, taking down whatever scum Howie could find for us. We had been at it for nearly three hours by the time we found ourselves on the worst side of town in Knightsville, Florida. The woman that we had just saved from the savage pack of thugs watched in fear as the eight gang members tightened their circle around us. Her brain screamed at her to run, but she was so terrified that her legs wouldn't comply.
We were out gunned and outnumbered, but beneath our masks, Jason and I were both smiling. My adrenaline overdose had invigorated my senses and made me crave the danger that lay before us. It was exactly what Jason and I both wanted— exactly what I needed.
Our backs touched as the thugs tightened their circle even more. They all had guns but didn’t bother to draw them, no doubt fooled by the false sense of security presented by their seemingly overwhelming four to one ratio.
I kept my eyes on the guns as the first thug dove for Jason. I whipped around as I felt Jason quickly shift away from the thug’s outstretched hand, leaving him open for the devastating clothesline that I delivered to his chest.
He hit the ground with a solid thud as the other thugs simultaneously rushed us. To my surprise, most of them went for Jason but not one of them could lay a finger on him as he gracefully worked his way through the crowd of assailants dishing out a fierce flurry of polished yet brutal punches and kicks.
For a moment, I found myself watching in awe as Jason evaded every wild punch thrown at him and returned fire with an endless barrage of effortless, yet devastating, counterattacks. It was poetry in motion. The guy that I was fighting at the time must have hit me square in the face about five times before I came back to my senses. I didn’t feel any his attacks but they were getting sort of annoying. I finally caught his fist and hoisted him into the air by his neck just as one of the thugs darted away.
“Hey, Ace! Catch!” I shouted as I tossed the thug that I was holding toward Jason.
Jason’s roundhouse kick connected with the thug’s face as I leapt thirty feet into the air after the thug that was attempting to flee.
The tail of my coat flapped in the cool night air as I soared after the fleeing scum. Two seconds later, he was sprawled on the pavement with my foot on his throat. I was basking in the radiance of my own glory when I saw it.
The glimmer of metal in my peripheral vision sent a tremor down my spine. I quickly kicked the brute at my feet in the head, knocking him unconscious, then turned to face the last sight that I wanted to see.
Most of the thugs were incapacitated, but the last one left standing had a pistol brandished before him with the barrel aimed at Jason’s chest. Jason stood completely still less than two meters in front of the armed thug.
“Don’t move dammit! Don’t move!” he shouted as he glared at Jason.
They both were fifteen meters away from me. I could cover that distance in a single bound but I wasn’t sure if I could outrun the bullet.
“Drop the pistol or lose the hand,” Jason ordered. His hands gripped the handle of the sword sheathed at his waist as he glared at the gunman.
“Yeah, fat chance, ninja boy!” the gunman shouted.
“The only person that will die if you pull that trigger is you. I suggest you drop it!” I growled.
“Not gonna happen, pal. If I pull this trigger— when I pull this trigger, your friend here is toast!” He kept his eyes on Jason as he shouted at me.
“I’ll snap your neck before the casing hits the ground!” I roared.
“Geez, Reaper, could you back off a bit?!” Jason yelled.
“Back off? For what? I can totally take this guy!” I was confused. I wasn’t sure if Jason was angry at me for butting in or if he was afraid that my interference would lead to him getting shot.
“Yeah, and so can I! You’re stealing my thunder, man. Why can’t you just let me handle this?”
“Handle it?! I’m trying to save your life!” I fired back.
“Are you kidding me? Are you two really arguing over who’s gonna take me out like I’m not the one with the gun?!” the gunman exclaimed as he glared angrily at me.
“You mean that gun?” Jason asked firmly.
By the time the thug and I focused our eyes back on Jason, half the thug’s right arm was lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood still clutching the pistol. His eyes widened with horror as he raised the bloody stump that remained to his face. Jason's long headband fluttered in the wind as he stood motionless with his blood-splattered sword held before him. He had drawn the sword and severed the guy’s arm in less time than it took the thug to glance at me.
Impressive, I thought as I watched the thug fall to the ground. I remember wondering who would win a one-on-one fight if Jason and I were ever pitted against each other. Sure I was stronger but there was no doubting that Jason was deadlier.
My thoughts were interrupted by the blood-curling scream of the disfigured thug as he came out of shock. Within seconds, Jason was on his bike revving the engine. We both sped away as police sirens rang out in the distance.
Minutes later, we were miles away speeding into the darkness and leaving the corruption of Knightsville behind us.
“I’m sorry I lost my temper back there, bro,” Jason said, as I dashed alongside his bike.
A wave of confusion washed over me as I continued to sprint. Until that moment, I thought our “argument” had been merely a diversion. Did Jason truly think that I was stepping on his toes by coming to his defense against an armed enemy?
“It’s fine, Ace. No big deal,” I replied, nonchalantly. But it was a big deal. In the past, Jason had come to my rescue so many times that I had lost count. For the first time in our lives, the shoe was on the other foot and he had the audacity to feel offended.
If he considered getting help in a fight an insult, why did he help me so many times? Was he insulting me every time he chose to come to my aid? Was I so weak that he just had to step in and save the day? Or perhaps he was so accustomed to that weaker version of me that he felt insulted that I would dare offer my assistance with a situation that he thought he had a handle on.
Sooner or later he was going to have to accept that things had changed. I was the one in the newsreels and viral Internet videos around the globe. I was the one with the real power. He needed to recognize those facts and act accordingly— act as a sidekick should.
Maybe I’m blowing this out of proportion, I thought as we raced onward. I ultimately decided to drop the issue as long as it didn’t happen again. Jason and I maintained radio silence as we both accelerated to over 100 miles per hour.
28. LIQUID COURAGE