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Viewing Single Post From: Waking Up is Hard to do
Dr. Nic
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How cute.
[ *  * ]
This won't be easy...

Nick surprised him.

Alex didn't think he would have been capable of really putting up a fight, of defending himself in any true capacity, not with a brittle weapon and what Alex thought to be a lack of experience; But the way he fought, even with such brittle and almost useless weapons, meant he might have had more experience than Alex did in dirty fights. Everything screamed at him to push harder, to fight harder, to take those stronger swings and to keep pushing back, but Alex's will wavered when it came down to it; He wanted to disarm Nick, to take his strength and his weapon, to keep him from using either on someone else, but his resolve was not enough. His first swing didn't make contact, his second just barely, not strength behind the wild swing to catch his opponent; A glimpse of something came into view, a wild swing.


It sent him reeling for a moment, the sound of the impact against his skull, the hard glass slamming into the side of his head; It was a wild swing, without strength or true intent, but it was a solid blow. But it was enough to bring the realization to light, that Alex may not win, that he may not succeed if he didn't step up, if he didn't ascend to the challenge; He would have to push back, to push hard, to fight and swing stronger than he intended. Seething, he swung. Again and again, against his better judgment, in anger and in fury he swung hard, swung wild, pushed back and fought; White knuckle grip on the weapon he relied upon, on the one thing he trusted in, not realizing his mistakes. The branch wasn't going to protect him, it wasn't going to fight for him, and it wasn't going to keep him alive.


But knowledge came too late.

Nick closed the gap every time, swinging and stabbing, trying to land another blow; They traded strikes, or they broke apart, seeking the upper hand on one another. The reasons for the fight escaped all thought, replaced by anger, by contempt and rage, by fight or flight and the will to survive; Every stinging blow was met with a fierce reply, every strike becoming stronger. Neither of them were holding back, neither wanting to die, neither knowing why they fought save survival and strength being put to the test; Do or die, a test of clashing wills, of resolve and survival instinct. An opening appeared, a fault in Alex's choice of weapon and his judgment of the fight; Nick took the chance, stepped forward, and struck.

A sharp blow.

A gasp for breath.

That hurt.

Unprepared, the blow to his chest took the breath from Alex, but a furious counter was at hand; Nick was getting away, breaking off and backing away. No quarter given, no restraint, Alex pushed forward and raised his arms; A look in his eyes like none other as he brought the weapon down, harder than he had before, with a deadly intent behind the blow. It came down fast, it came down hard, the intent behind it was clear and the strength invested was high; He wasn't going to hold back anymore, not now, not when he had the opportunity and the will to cash in. Nick tried to defend himself, moving forward, bracing himself.

It worked, to a point.

The sound of shattering glass broke the relative silence, the smell of fuel filling the air around them, the choking fumes of diesel filling his mouth and nose. Coughing and seeking a clear breath, Alex stepped back, breaking away from Nick, something he knew would come back to bite him; And sure enough, a voice called out, outside of his view, grabbing his attention. Alex turned, facing Andrea with anger in his eyes and contempt in his voice, with rage filling his thoughts and fueling his actions; He didn't realize what she was up to until it was too late, the black powder stinging his eyes and sticking to his sweat covered skin.

"You bitch!"

He coughed and cursed, his hand upon his face, removing the offending particulate as fast as he could. He released his grip upon his chosen weapon, wiping the substance from his eyes; Though stinging, he could see, his vision clouded and barely clearing when he spotted the movement off to the side. He had ignored Nick for too long, left him to his thoughts and his actions longer than he should have; Nick had a plan, had the means and the will to complete it, the rage that filled both their minds and their veins fueling his actions. Alex's opponent was dangerous now, far more than he ever had been; The faint glint of light reflecting off of the glass in Nick's hand.

He knew what was coming.


Turning quickly, he braced himself for the coming attack, the broken glass showing Nick's intentions as clear as day; He knew he would end up hurt if he didn't try to stop Nick, didn't try to disarm him, but he didn't have his weapon. He didn't need his weapon. He had almost forgotten that brief moment of clarity, of the realization that in this fight, the branch would do nothing but hinder him; it gave him reach and gave his strikes more power, but it hindered him when Nick got close, it was too slow to combat Nick's comparatively unhindered, fast movements. In that moment, he realized what he was capable of, what he was being presented with, the opportunity that was in front of him; And he took it. His feet slid, his body shifted slightly, as he braced himself. He had to time it just right; Too soon, and he'd have a nice gash sliced into his arm, but if he was too late, he'd have a hole in his side.

He focused on the glass.

He watched Nick rush closer.

And he acted.

His hand closed around Nick's left wrist as his body shifted, the leaf litter upon the ground making his actions that much easier; His leg slid between Nick's, his hip moving in to place, and he pulled Nick forward by his shoulder. He used Nick's speed, his momentum, against him; He forced the opponent over his hip, off his feet, and unto the ground before them as hard as he could. It wasn't perfect, and it wasn't as strong as it should have been, but it would be more than enough; Knocking the wind out of Nick was what he wanted, was what he needed, and taking the broken glass was easy. But Alex didn't know what Nick was capable of, didn't know if he would counter right then and there; prying the broken piece of glass from his hand was quick, but he wouldn't remain next to the fallen opponent. If nothing else, he would at least be able to get away while Nick was knocked down, while he was out of it and unable to react. But something wasn't right, something was clawing at Alex's mind as he backed away from his opponent; Everything was screaming at him to realize what had happened.

He had made a mistake.


His arm stung and burned; He hadn't pulled off the defense perfectly, and the shallow, bleeding cut was proof enough. His shirt and his jacket were torn, perhaps being the only reasons why the cut wasn't deeper, wasn't as serious as it could have been; But it hurt, and the pain broke his focus on Nick. The fight had ended, and reality was snapping back to punish Alex for his recklessness; His body was sore, his arm was bleeding, and he'd barely done anything to disarm either one of the people before him. He'd beaten Nick, but he wasn't in any position to take the pack from where he had left it.

He made a mistake.

He was worn out, sore, injured and regretting his actions; His own packs upon his back were heavy, and he knew that leaving them there during the fight was a mistake. Everything he had done was a mistake, all the things he had assumed and the actions he had taken, everything he had tried to do based upon nothing but his own paranoia, his own fear and panic; Mistakes that couldn't be fixed, actions that couldn't be taken back. The weight of his actions, the realization that he had just attacked someone, had even tried to kill him, it all hit him then and there as the pain in his arm dragged him back to reality and held him there.

Oh god...

He made a mistake.

How would he face the ones he intended to protect, what would he do if they knew what he had tried to do; Without provocation, he had attacked someone, he had tried to kill them. But he had a reason, right? It was a good reason, wasn't it? He wanted to protect the ones he cared about, he wanted to keep others from killing people. But as the realization of what he had done, what he had tried to do, slipped into his mind and invaded his thoughts, he questioned that resolve; They hadn't shown any intentions of harming others, had they? No... the only one to show hostility was Alex himself. But... he had to protect them, didn't he? He was responsible... wasn't he? He had to shoulder the weight of the decision, to carry that responsibility... didn't he?

He made a mistake.

"I... I just wanted to protect them."

No excuses.

He knew. In the back of his mind, he knew what he had done was wrong, that it wasn't necessary, that it wasn't needed. Nothing he had done would protect those he cared about, nothing he had done would prevent anything from happening; The only person who was causing harm now, who was threatening the lives of those around him... was him. No one else. He was responsible. He was to blame.

He was guilty.

"I'm guilty."


"I'm to blame..."


"It's my fault..."


"I made a mistake."
Edited by Dr. Nic, Aug 28 2010, 04:41 PM.
Boy #??? - Joshua Edwards
Hanging out somewhere, playing his heart out.
Writer and local retail slave at the comic book store.

Girl #??? - Viktoriya "Vika" Starikova
Floating in the void, unfinished and half-formed.
Hot headed member of the soft ball team, secretly wishing she could fly.

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