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Brusied but Not Broken
NEW YORK, Pitch Black, Inc., 7:45 am
“Ahh, just another day in the office,” Styles said with a sinister smile. “I love what I do.”
Styles is a man in his 40’s or 50’s. He’s as bald as an old tire. He has a big, white eye patch and a white tux to match it. Heck, the only thing he needs is one of those Persian lap cats, and he’s your everyday villain. He’d probably do well, cuz he’s as twisted as a bull.
I hate to say it, cuz I’m nothing like him, but I work for Styles. He’s made my life, well, uh, life or death.
NEW YORK, Pitch Black, Inc., 6:00 pm
Hi. My name is Austin Beck. You may know me as Austin Awesome: Criminal Uncatchable, thanks to Styles and Publicity. But I’m not a criminal. And hey! I’m not a hero, either. I’m me. I’ve just been havin’ money troubles, that’s all. And Styles pays good money. Speaking of money, I wonder what Styles has in plan for me today.
I knocked on the door like I normally do. “Enter!” Styles said in his wannabe intimidating voice.
I could tell he had somethin’ unpleasant on his mind. His smile was jus’ one notch too wide. “So uh… what do ya got in store for me today, Styles?” I asked.
“I want you to kill Gearz,” he answered back
“You want me to what?” I could not believe it. How could I kill Gearz?
“Never!” I said.
“Fine, die!” Styles roared.
Just then two of his goons came bargin’ in at me. They slammed me up against the wall. It hurt, but I would rather be crushed than kill my best friend. Ya see, Gearz is my friend; he helps me on all my missions. He’s a computer whiz.
“Austin, if you don’t want to do what I say, then perish,” he said.
Just then, he placed a collar around my neck. I could tell this collar had plastic explosives in it.
“Listen Beck, this collar is set to detonate if you reach so much as a football field away from me. And with these guys holding you back, this is going to be fun.”
I went into a dire state of panic. Did I have only seconds before my head was all over the wall three blocks from here? I think not. I bucked and bolted like I was a berserk animal. I could not shake them loose. Then it hit me.
“You guys realize you will be blown up too, right?” I said, trying to change their minds.
They seemed confused. They loosened their grip. Their state of confusion made them vulnerable. So I smashed their heads together and ran for Styles. I caught up with him, but he wasn’t stupid.
Next thing I know, he busted out the window of a building. I figured it was a heck of a fall for him, until I saw him running inside the building cross the road. I jumped right after him. I guessed I didn’t have much time. I was free falling, fast. I tried to swim through the air.
I didn’t make the jump, but luckily a garbage man was on route, cuz I landed in his truck and busted my chin on the side of it. My chin by now was probably smithereens cuz my mouth was full of blood. But I got over it quick and ran inside the building. I was like a bullet flyin’ up the stairs.
Then I saw him, and he made me run up more stairs. I was tired of this cat and mouse chase. He tried his little window stunt again. I didn’t think so. I grabbed his tux jacket and yanked him in, tearing it. He must have thought two could play at that game, cuz he let out some sort of angry cry, and then he punted me in the gut and gave me a knuckle sandwich. He then took out his cell phone and called one of his goons. I couldn’t understand what he was sayin’ because I was incapacitated. After I came to. I saw him climbing into a chopper.
“No!” I yelled. He must have heard me, cuz he told the guy to, and start flying and the guy did. So I’m in a building running after a chopper, and there are cubicles in my way. It took me a while, but I caught up with him. I took my chances one last time. I busted out the window and grabbed on to the chopper and flipped in.
“You play a good game, Beck. But you look tired.” He started laughing.
My smile of success turned into a frown of anger. I’m fallin’ apart here, and Styles is laughing and doesn’t even seem fazed. Then I get some kind of plan. I slowly walked toward the front of the chopper. I sat down next to the pilot. I smirked at him, opened the door, and kicked him out.
Now it was Styles, a free falling chopper, and me.
“Ready to dance, Beck?” he said as he threw the collar’s remote into the pilot box. “The winner gets to have the remote, and if they’re lucky, safely land this aircraft. The question is: Do you feel lucky?”
I could tell this wasn’t going to be easy. Styles was just about in mint condish’, and I was holdin’ my jaw together.
“Styles, it has been a good one, but give up.”
“Cuz I’m bruised, but not BROKEN!”
Just then I sprang into action. He must have seen it coming, cuz next thing I know Styles and I are tradin’ soup bowls 40 ft in the air.
NEW YORK, SOMEWHERE AROUND NEW YORK CITY, 12:45 AM
Styles packs a punch. With each blow I thought I was going to pass out, and he just ate my punches up. I had to think of something. Our elevation went from 40 to 20 ft. fast.
I noticed we were way too low, and just then the tail of the chopper was slamming into buildings.
“Next stop, alleyway,” Styles said snickering.
He was right. We were doing a nosedive into a dark alley. Just then I had an idea. I grabbed Styles and switched places with him so that he was landing back first. BOOOOM!
NEW YORK, SOME ALLEY, 1:35 AM