Birthright: A Phoenix is Born

Disaster Duo

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GK23

Kumar and I stood frozen as we faced him. Veins popping, eyes bulging. The hope for his sudden heart attack quickly grew. Whatever he intended to cut off with that short corroded blade, was something I knew desperately needed to stay put.

"We have to run for it." I motioned to Kumar. He didn't reply, eyes transfixed on the carver, like a deer in headlights.

"What are you doing?"

The man's scuttled movements interrupted my chat with Kumar. With a long downward swing, he split us in two. His ogle laced across my frame, stiffening hairs all over. I shot Kumar daggers, yet he eyes stayed on the madman between us.

"I can't go back home." Shouted back, Kumar. The shake in his voice quaked against his usual accent. "And even if I run, he'll just come for me later. Zis is the second time I've stopped him robbing someone. He won't let that go."

Our adversary continued to take jabs, forcing us to spring from spot to spot while bags of air beat our fronts. The twists to avoid his strikes hammered my spine, toppling my balance rearwards. Yet mid-fall a set of cold hands struck my back, tossing me right into the attacker's territory. I paused, allowing the sight around me to thunder my bones dry. A dense mass of football jerseys enclosed us, a strong alcohol spiked mist hanging over them. Jeers, taunts and boos roared high into the pitch-black sky every time a strike came close to hitting its mark.

"What does this guy even want?" I asked, ducking as the blade tore away at clumps of my jacket. The impromptu dive twanged my ankle, festering hot pain. Another injury like this and I was a goner.

"Money, anything valuable he can sell for cash." Kumar haphazardly called out. Himself being manhandled into the centre of the circle by Newcastle United and PSG.

I don't have any money.

The thought racketeered around my mind. Yet, squirming from the bright flash of a camera reminded me of what I did.

"You want the phone?" I squawked, dangling my new mobile in front of him. His entire disposition swerved into a dog, a few tricks away from receiving a well deserved treat. The spectators hissed and booed as their entertainment came to an end.

"While he is distracted we make a break for it." I whispered to Kumar who bobbed in return.

I lobbed the device to the far end of the ring, wincing as it slid across the pavement. He moved in quickly and greedily fondled the treat in his hands. That was before, the screen lit up in a blaze.

That stellar east coast voice boomed through the phone's speakers.

"Unauthorised user in possession of Pe-Mi. Please return to the rightful owner or you will be immobilized in five seconds."

The entire group including myself and Kumar watched in amazement as the homeless guy wielded fire between his palms. It sparked red, illumining more of the man's hidden boils. None of us noticed the count down to zero.

"Pe-Mi has not been returned, self-preservation mode initiated."

Beams of blueish neon flowed out the phone. Little navy sparks snaked around the guy, thickening until each was about the size of an anaconda. Harsh buzz of liberated electricity sizzled the old man's body, rigid convulsions snapping his neck back and forth. The rest of us did nothing but watch as lightning struck. His heavy mass sagged down to the ground with a thud. Eyeballs glossed over, fingers twitching. The phone descended gently onto the exposed belly of the man. The scent of charred man cascading through the air.

My mind froze, petrified at the image before me. I pressed my lips together to form an apology yet the surrounded faces displayed nothing resembling forgiveness. The signal from brain to body altered into something more familiar. I latched onto Kumar's wrist, scooped up the mobile and dashed. Burning up every drop of adrenaline within.

Shouts from pissed Premier League fans became less frequent as we wound through the numerous cobblestone alleyways of Dublin City. We stopped running after their unsatisfied screams died down. The dim light of the moon highlighted scattered bits of paper that littered the ground and crude graffiti tagging neighbouring brick walls. I gasped heavily for air and slumped to the cold earth. Kumar did the same, hands running viciously through his knotted dark curls.

"Every fucking day." He screamed at the top of his voice. "Curse those two."

My body tensed as loose locks of black hair lined the floor. We sat there for a while, Kumar's face hidden between his laps. The city night's melody filled our void. Ambulance sirens, laughs of clubbing college students. However, distance howls of slurred words pricked my ears.

"Kumar, we can't stay here."

"Well, I will not leave with you." My ego took a hit at his venomous tongue, yet tense grit permitted me to carry on.

"I have a place not far from here. We can get you treated there. Hopefully, my..... uncle will know what to do."

He grimaced. "Worry about yourself." Kumar struggled to prop himself against the wall. His buckling knees ended that struggle. As I moved hands outstretched, he slapped them away. Preferring the stale ground. Muscles in my temples twitched as he picked himself up again.

"I know you hate me but this isn't the time for beefing. You're clearly exhausted. Plus, who knows what that madman will do when he wakes up."

I sighed.

"You saved my Kumar life, let me return the favour."

Kumar eyed me up, short breaths rushing out his lip's sides.

"Fine." He exasperated.

I stretched out my hand once more, yet he reacted the same. Choosing to do it himself.

I began walking, the twitch tightening at one single thought.

What the hell have I got myself into?