Sinister Minds

Chapter 4. Dirty Crowbar

Well past sunrise, Salah watched as Valdrell came into view. He'd been there before, a lot of times. A century ago.

Nature hadn't changed much. The meadows were still the same. Green and lush, befitting the name greenland. Civilization hadn't trampled this far yet. Maybe it wouldn't. If he recalled correctly few of those trees were sapient. No telling what Sinister reptile had migrated this far north.

The train came to a slow halt as it screeched on it's tracks inside the station. The boys stretched in their confined space and unlatched the door before jumping out.

Salah had gone over his next course of action several times in his head. He made an excuse about a running bladder and asked for directions for where he could take a piss. He pretended to listen before nodding thanks and took a completely different route once he was out of sight, out of the station.

Valdrell, with her fine rows of buildings and bustling streets. He could make out towers with stained glass windows far ahead. The whole place was organized chaos, so busy, so noisy, so-

He cut off as that itching feeling came again. He risked a peek over his shoulder. Strange coat was following and his guts told him he was not alone.

He contemplated, taking slow steps. A nice dark alley would do for this sort of engagement, he thought grimly.

As Virtue would have it, he stopped at the mouth of a dark and particularly abandoned one. Salah entered and slid into another bend in the alley. His foot kicked against a stray crowbar.

Picking it up, it felt right on his palm. Would do well for a cudgel. I will show them how sinister I can be.

Then he waited with a calm breath. He was always calm before a fight. He had to be.

He heard them. Boots on stone trying to be cautious but he'd done all this before and knew what to keep an ear out for.

Salah ducked a machete swinging for his head even as its wielder came around the bend. Catching the armed hand, he smashed Strange Coat's face with the crowbar, hard enough that it broke his nose with an audible crack.

Choking back a scream, Strange Coat's machete slipped from his fingers as the crowbar whipped him on the face again.

Salah released his hand and let him fall on his knees, just in time to duck and swing the bar. It connected against a second Strange Coat's kneecap. That might not have cracked the kneecap but it would definitely sore it. Strange two let out a cry of pain and fired his weapon wildly.

There must have been a ricochet for the hit Strange Coat, probably on the waist for he yelped and lied down clutching his waist, mouth twisted in agony.

Salah wasted no time, rising he stomped on the sore knee with every strength in his muscles. Strange Two shrieked and Salah's boot on his chin cut him off, getting a satisfactory throaty sob. His teeth must have closed against his tongue. Salah brought the steel bar on the jaw just above the neck and sent him to the world of unconsciousness.

Salah spared a moment for his coat. It was a nice long coat. He relieved him of it and wore it. Not bad, he remarked mentally as he wiped off dust from it with his free hand.

Amidst all that agony and brutality, Strange Two must have dropped his gun. One of the rules of street fighting; keep the pain constant, Hammad had said. Hit fast in quick successions. It helps disorient your opponent. His brain will be too busy processing pain instead of taking action.

Salah with crowbar in hand loomed over Strange Coat, who was whining with ruined lips-surely two hits hadn't done that to him- pitifully on the ground, still clutching that waist. It was wet with blood.