The Rising Sun: Episode 3

Inside of that window, a masked figure wearing thick black coat stood with his back pressed to the side of the wall. The vigilante held his gun squeezed closely between both hands, while the sound of footsteps on glass, splintering, came from across the hall.

  Lying stunned in front of him were two of the three mobsters he had come here to take down. The last one was still lurking in the hallway behind him, waiting for the chance to take him down. The man was slowly walking down the hall, his feet landing on pieces of glass and crunching them as he approached slowly.

  “Whoever you are,” the man called in his rough voice, “you’ve got nowhere to run. Get out and face me like a man, you swine.”

  Another glass piece crunched under the man’s foot as he drew another step forward…

  The vigilante estimated that he was feet down the hallway. He waited for one final breath before spinning around, out of the safety of the wall he hid behind … In that split second, he could feel his heartbeat echo loudly within his ears, prolonged like the moment was – the moment which would decide life or death. As he spun, he saw the man, the last mobster, standing feet ahead down the hall, whose eyes flew wide as he saw the vigilante. Both of them raised their guns, aiming at each other at the same time, and both of them fired at the very same time.

  The man’s jet of light whizzed right past the vigilante’s fur coat, smashing the wall behind. And then, before he could fire a second time, he backed over and hit the ground at the force of the vigilante’s shot, which had smote him deadly on the chest.

  The vigilante stood there for one wild moment, his breath panting through the iron mask he wore. His gaze scrolled over the ground, over the three bodies. Then, slowly, he pocketed his gun.

  “Ve – e- ery nice.” came a smug voice behind him.

  He spun around, his heart freezing in his chest.

  Ion’s lips twitched in a smile as he casually stood leaning against the wall, nodding at the vigilante before him. He had climbed in through the window behind him.

  “You really are something, pal,” he said, still wearing the look of feigned admiration as he nodded at the masked vigilante in the iron mask before him. “And that’s why I’m here tonight.” He stopped leaning and drew straight. “To take you down.”

  The masked man before him tiled his head to one side, considering him like a child waiting for a teacher’s approval. A prolonged silence landed between the two of them as the man gazed at Ion quietly, as if trying to wonder whether or not he was real.

  And then, the man gave a loud roar of laughter.

  “Take me down?” he asked, looking at Ion through his mask. “You should know who you’re talking to before you threaten him. Believe me on that one.”

  “Know who I’m talking to, huh?” Ion allowed him the ghost of a smirk. “Do you?”

  The man slid his hand into his pocket and drew out a rolled piece of parchment. He unwrapped it and turned it about to Ion, who didn’t understand what he was seeing at first.

  “What the hell is that?”

  “This,” the man said, shaking the poster as he held it. “is you.”

  Ion squinted, but through the darkness he could only faintly make out a face in the middle. The man rolled the parchment and slid it back into his pocket.

  “It’s a poster of you circulated through all of the governments of the inner spectrum.” the vigilante informed him. “The top priority in their list of most lethal criminals there are in the world. And you’ve topped it.” The man took a step forward, and his tone now grew serious. “But that really shouldn’t bother you … what should bother you is that you were my priority.” His voice sank to a deadly hiss. “I’ve heard about you, pal. I’d been travelling through the outer spectrum, and I heard so many stories about the deadliest assassin there was, who was no older than a teen. And so I set my sights. On him. On you.” He spread his hands. “Believe be, I’ve waited just so long to meet you, Ion.”

  Ion gestured to the gun the man had pocketed in his belt. “You know what, tough guy? Why don’t you go on, then? Get the gun out and shoot me, won’t you?” And I’ll enjoy watching.

  “Oh, no.” said the man, shaking his head. “Just shooting you won’t satisfy me… no. I want far more. I’m gonna break every bone in your body for what you deserve. You’re a scumbag who’s gonna rot in hell, pal. So be ready for it.”

  Ion could scent the heavy contempt in the man’s tone. “Hell’s nothing, compared to what happens to you now.”

  He gave himself a second to relish the surprise that would follow in the vigilante, before waving a hand across the room. One of the shattered blocks of debris sprang off the ground across the hall and went soaring towards the vigilante…

  And then, as the man held a hand up, a shimmering glass like surface formed from the air in front of him. Ion’s heart stopped for a split second. The block of rubble crashed over the shield which the vigilante conjured, falling back to the ground.

  Ion tilted his head, viewing his opponent in a whole new dimensional perspective. But he then smiled, realising that it was better this way.

  “So … you’re a mystic, huh?” he sneered, shaking his head. “Well, I’ve got something for you, pal.”

  He slid his sword out, holding it up in the air for a second, before lighting the blade with a dazzling, orange flash.

  “I’m one too.” he hissed.

  The vigilante stood rooted to the spot, and Ion could feel the focus in him. Slowly, his hand reached behind him as well, to the sheath Ion couldn’t see over his back. He slid his own sword out, the blade shimmering in the light from Ion’s. Like all mystic swords, his was long and thin. The blade was sharper at the top, and slightly longer than Ion’s.

  “Just the way I like It.” said Ion. “A match I can actually contest with.”

  Then, screaming, he swung his blade around and dashed forward.

  The cling of the two of their blades meeting sounded loud and sharp over the air. The two of them stood there with swords locked, their faces grilled in fury and concentration. Ion pushed the vigilante forth and made a cut across the air, which his opponent blocked with a lazy swipe of his blade. Sparks flew from their blades as they met. Ion twisted about and sent a slash to the man’s torso … again blocked.

  As the two of them duelled, neither one submitting, neither of their resolves slackening, the man was pushing Ion further and further back. Feeling his head now cloud with an onsetting defeat, Ion mustered everything he had. Keeping himself together as he slashed, jabbed and cut viciously. He could feel his lungs pant for breath as he moved faster than he ever had his entire life, swinging his arms across as he parried blows from his enemy, and gave him whatever feeble assaults he could.

  But he knew he was losing … his enemy was stronger than him, and was definitely going to take him down.

  As their blades locked for a final time, the vigilante growled from where he stood: “This is a day you’ll never forget … your entire life.”

  Ion gritted his teeth, feeling fury rush up in him. “I know I won’t.”

  Without leaving a sliver of hesitation to dull his movement, Ion jumped back so that the vigilante stumbled forward at the sudden removal of his resistance. Taking advantage of the split second gain, Ion threw his hands forward, summoning all the reserve of energy in his mind … and letting it gush forth through his fingertips as he swung them across.

  Before the vigilante had even regained his stance, he was blasted backwards by Ion’s smash. He crashed into the wall behind him, which came down in rubble and stone. His legs stuck out from the wreckage of the wall, unmoving.

  Ion stood there, catching up on his breath for a few seconds. Letting the thrill pumping through him settle slowly.

  Then, staring at the unmoving figure of the vigilante, whose legs stuck out of the broken wall, Ion gave a snigger of victory.

  Hope he’s not dead. He thought savagely. We would prefer him alive, Grando and me.

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