LAST MAN STANDING [COMPLETED]

Chapter Sixty

The heavy rain pouring on the corrugated iron, could still be heard, while I moved up the dusty, old stairs. The old abandoned shoe factory that had been ruined by the fire, that was where I was.

This had been our hiding place, for me and my group. Sixteen years ago. The place we would run off to when in trouble. A place where we would distribute all the stolen goods and camp for the night. Sixteen years had past without me checking it and I hoped no one used it.

The muffled cries suddenly filled my ears, followed by curses. I immediately stopped, a dark memory flashing back.

A memory of when my group and I had broken in Walter's butchery. My eyes had widened, staring at the sight of the gaged, young woman hung with barbwire, along the pig carcass in the cold room.

Deep knife scars had filled her body, her right breast titty dangling, holding on with a stripe of skin. A young man had leaned near the cold wall, wearing a huge puffer jacket, cigarette in his lips, enjoying to watch Mr. Walter.

The pale skinned bastard with short blonde hair and striking blue eyes, running his knife in the woman's vagina, that leaked of blood. "YOU BASTARD!" he had roared when he saw us, pulling out his gun. The sound of gun shot had filled my ears, while I ran for my life.

The loud thunder roar brought me back to the presence. My hand tightened on both plastic bags. Moving forward, the grunting getting close. I finally got to the end of the stairs, my eyes meeting the three men, in leather jackets, ganging on a skinny man in a bloody shirt. They had a few banknotes, I was sure were from the skinny man.

A black umbrella tossed aside along the grey coat. I stopped walking, seeing the man in a marron leather jacket and beanie kick the skinny man belly, causing him to roll on the dusty floor. His spectacles getting tossed away, his face bloody. A memory of the same man flashed in my head.

"It's like hell," I said softly.

A scoff left the skinny man's lips. He seemed to have heard me. "Or Heaven," he said moving toward the handle.

Heaven? Setting people ablaze didn't sound like heaven to me. "Don't worry they don't feel a thing," he said turning to face me. "They are dead."

He pulled the handle the hell opening. Ashes moving out in the metal tray.

The loud laughter from the two-man pulled me to the presence, meeting the emerald eyes of the man in a maroon leather jacket. I felt my body tensing. A flash back of his younger self flashing in my head.

The taller boy from the tenth grade, seated on the roof of the red industrial container, which the school had turned to a library. A few more boys, my age, sixteen, also on the top of the roof of the container. Yelling, they would yell horrible stuff about me, about me being in the 8th grade at sixteen years.

"Who the fuck are you?" his voice hoarse, like I remembered it.

The other two men, one in a green leather jacket the other in a brown leather jacket, turning to face me. Their hands already tightening their grip on their rusted knives. "I'm fuckin talking to you bastard!" he cursed again.

"Your daddy," the words came out my mouth bitter.

The bastard had been amongst the reasons I quitted school. "You bastard!" he roared, pulling his knife heading for me.

It was so sad how the perpetrators easily forgot about their sins, while victims remember and struggled to move on. But no more! All those who sinned me, I was going to end them one by one.

Dropping both plastic bags, heading for him. This time, his group wasn't here to attack me. It was just me, him and the two dumplings, who I could easily take down. I was stronger now and bigger than the last time.

~ ~ ~

He aimed the knife straight at my neck. I moved out his way, holding his arm and ran my forehead against his violently. Blood rushed down his nose, moving back dizzily, crying in pain. The other two rushed for me, aiming their knives at me.

Slowly everything beside me, turning into the FL200 arena. The spectators cheering my name. I clenched my fist, head moving along my shoulders. Fuelled, fuelled by my fans. "HYPHEN! HYPHEN! HYPHEN THE CONQUER!"

The first man in a green leather jacket, aimed his knife at me. I moved back before landing my fist on his temple.

The loud cracking sound, filled my ears, His temple sinking inside his head, creating a dent. Blood rushed out his nose, his body dropping dead. The second one with a brown leather jacket appeared, screaming for his death.

His knife violently moving, managing to cut the sleeve of the coat I wore. He was closing on me, on the wall. I quickly bent, swiping him off his feet. His knife dropped from his hand, landing on his face on the concrete floor.

A loud scream left his bloody mouth, face moving up. I violently kicked his head, it twisted abnormally, twisting the neck along it. Eyes turning blood shot immediately, blood rushing out his nose and mouth before his twisted head dropped on the concrete ground.

"STAY RIGHT THERE!" the hoarse voice demanded.

My eye slowly moving up, to face him. He had the skinny man before him, a knife around his neck. "REVEAL YOURSELF! OR I KILL HIM!"

"Please, don't," the skinny man begged between heavy breathes.

Blood running down his nose. "Help me," his eyes that blinked now and again, without spectacles on.

"I'LL FUCKIN KILL HIM!" moving the knife close to his neck.

A soft grin escaped my lips. Was he fucking with me?

"Go ahead but I'm not letting you leave here alive, Crust Havinas," I replied, taking off my hoodie.

His eyes widened. "Steroid boy! You bastard!" he cursed, fear, fear reeking all over him.

How lovely, he still remembered me. "What the fuck do you want from me? After sixteen years?!"

"Closure," I replied.

"Closure? What the fuck is that?!" he laughed nervously. "Aren't steroids and hookers enough?"

How funny. "You really got some nerves showing up here! I'm not who I was back then, I will really rip your neck open," he threatened.

"Then I'll like to see that happen," I replied, running for him.

He tossed away the skinny man and attempted to make his escape, up the burnt stairs beside us.

My hand viciously held his arm. He violently dug his blade on my injured shoulder. A sharp roar left my lips. "LET GO BASTARD!" he cursed, running his blade deeper.

My right hand punched his face, he collided with the wall. His grip on the knife handle of the knife buried deep in my traps loosened.

I snatched his neck, picking him up.