Post by Press1269 on Sept 11, 2019 20:22:01 GMT
PURE AMUSEMENT ARENA
PURITY, LOUISIANA
EARLY AUGUST...
When they first stepped into the ring together there was a little ring rust. She hadn't been an active competitor in over five years but she had kept herself in good shape. After being back among The BombTrax she fell into a rhythm, a place she had once felt at home in but now was a visitor. Little by little, however, the motions and actions became more and more familiar, and after a full month and a half of training everyday with the two men she was now back to being a credible threat. She was never going to be a powerhouse, but she had her own type of strength. Quick as a snake, reflexive as a cat, wily like a fox, she could deftly avoid danger, and if it did find her, she could wriggle her way out of it. Her only real weakness was blunt force trauma, which she found out quite readily from the start.
She had been working with Youth most days in the beginning, getting her speed back up, getting used to taking the lumps that come along with striking the mat. After awhile she pointed out that she would eventually need training from Press as well. Not all of her opponents would be as lithe as The Flash and she wanted the whole of their experience. Press, being six foot eleven and tipping the scales at three-hundred-and-sixty-five pounds and her being five foot three and one-hundred-twenty-five pounds didn't sit well with the big man. Youth, on the other hand, agreed with Munin, and between the two of them and the occasional goading by Samedi when he was at the sessions, he finally agreed.
After that they were in the ring most of the time together. Press would push her hard during their workouts on the various equipment left over from the days when PAW was a regular promotion in the now abandoned amusement park. Munin took the workouts in stride, though she could feel the surge of competition returning to her body. She wasn't just working out to keep off the pounds. She was getting into fighting shape, and there was a distinct difference. When it came to the sparring, at first, Press held back and she knew it. She called him out on it and so did Youth. This time peer pressure didn't seem to make that much of a difference, as he just couldn't bring himself to really put the woman in any danger. It was an admirable sentiment, but it didn't help her here. She knew she was going to have to push the point, which probably meant pressing the big man's buttons.
After a week of the continued 'safe' routine, Munin and Press were in the ring together when she deftly side stepped a half attempt by him at a lariat, and drove her boot into the side of his knee that twisted it enough to drop him to it. Now at eye level, she fell back a step and hammered him with multiple shoot kicks that seemed to have little effect but were doing their job in annoying him. He slowly rose and put his meaty hand out to bat her leg away while using the other to give her an unceremonious shove. It wasn't enough to knock her down, but forceful enough to send the message that enough was enough. Only this time, this day, Munin refused the message. Instead she pressed back in on the attack, one-two combinations to his midsection, which admittedly didn't budge against her strikes. But this was just a distraction for what came next, which was a step to his hip up into an uppercut that came so suddenly and abruptly that it broke his defenses and sent him staggering back with a bloody nose.
She had planned on pressing the attack further, but the fist that came sailing at her in response knocked her clear across the ring to land in a heap. When she managed to look up from the mat through her dark hair which had come clear out of it's pony tail to cascade in front of her face, she saw the look of shock, dismay, and apology on Press' face. She knew if she left him in that frame of mind she'd never get what she wanted out of him, so she forced herself up, despite seeing black dots at the corner of her eyes, and motioned she was ready for more. The Big Man's emotions fell as he watched the display, and from that moment forward he never held back on her again.
But in this moment, she was starting to regret that decision. The summer sun had been shining nearly non-stop all summer, heating up the Pure Amusement Arena in the center of the abandoned park. Heat was visibly rising off the pavement outside, but in here the air was a stifling mix of dust and sweat. Add in the calisthenics of sparring with the trauma that happened when you got hit or spiked off the mat, and Munin was damn near hating every decision she had ever made up to this point. A bead of sweat went astray from her hairline and cut dead center of her eyes to drip off the end of her nose, and she ran her taped fist across her forehead to try and prevent anymore from getting into her eyes. She stared across the ring at a monster made of bulge and muscle and the knowledge of how to use all of it to hurt you. On top of all that, he was deceptively fast in his own right, though it looked more like a locomotive building up speed than the zero to sixty his partner could elicit.
He stared across the ring at her, cracking his knuckles, nursing a busted lip from a roundhouse kick he had accepted earlier. It had given him the chance to get hold of her, and despite her efforts she couldn't stop him from sending her slamming into the canvas. She had come up as quick as she could to avoid the leg he tried to drop across her throat moments later, and now they were in a stand off on opposite sides of the ring.
With a roar he charged right at her and for a moment she felt her feet frozen to the mat like concrete. She had faced all manner of opponents in her lineage as a professional wrestler and stared down even bigger monsters outside of the ring, yet nothing could really prepare you for the man coming right at her and closing the gap fast! About the same time she found her feet working again was the same time his right foot began to raise off the canvas, and she knew exactly what he was trying to do and exactly what it would do to her if he landed it. His Sudden Stop running big boot had been used to set up his Press Release Powerbomb his entire run as the PAW Champion, and she had been the one to write the checks to cover the damage after he hit one.
Knowing her very fate might depend on it, Lady Munin dives forward, tucking her head in the process which allows her body to drop low so that she hits the mat with her shoulder and commits to a roll that puts her deftly under the boot that was aimed right at her head. Press, being as large as he is, can't stop his momentum, so as he continues forward she rolls past and up to her feet behind him. He does manage to lower the boot and come to a stop before striking the turnbuckle, and by the time she's charging back at him he's already spun to face her.
But it's too late...
And he knows it.
Instead of going straight ahead she jukes to her right, then back to her left into a short jump that puts her on the second rope which allows her to springboard back the other way as she brings her knee to strike across his face. It's enough impact to knock the big man off balance, and as she lands beside him, she whips hard back to her left and hops up to extend her elbow so that it strikes him square in the nose. This time he falls back into the corner but bounces immediately back out, and Munin is already spinning back to her right, dropping low, and using her legs to tangle him up with a Drop Toe Hold that sends him stumbling down to the canvas onto his face. She spins around to end up at the front end of his body while simutaniously getting hold of his arm and swings herself around until he's locked into a painful arm bar.
She realizes she probably looks like a Chihuahua trying to tackle a grizzly bear, but she doesn't care. Instead, instinct kicks in, and she thrusts her pelvis into his elbow joint and tries to hyper-extend his arm. He roars in defiance, getting his knee's under him and actually lifts her right off the canvas all in one motion. "He's just too big," she thinks, even as she is flung around in the air while still essentially riding his arm.
Youth can be heard snickering just outside the ring where he leans against the ring post with his arms crossed. "Looks like Munin's the flame, and you're trying to put her out..."
"She's breaking my arm, you ass!" Press seethes as he continues to thrash around.
Munin's hair whips all around her, and for just a moment, she thinks "This is kind of fun. Like one of the old amusement rides.." When she's suddenly lifted so that she's straight up in the air, and then driven right down to slam off the mat.
The sudden impact causes her to let loose of the hold but Press is winded after the exchange, and before he can move to get away from her she latches right back on for more of the same. He roars again, this time a little weaker, as he searches for some way to get this Harpy off of him. Munin lets out a roar of her own as she wrenches back, and though not quite as impressive, she's still proud of her self. Press rolls suddenly up so that her shoulders are pressed into the mat with her knees digging into her chest, but still she has his arm compromised. He comes to a point where they are nearly face to face, their eyes locking. She is completely in the moment, pushing with all her might to get him off of her and still cause the arm damage, when she shockingly realizes there's something else in his eyes as he pierces down at her.
Something that makes her feel disagreeable and oddly comfortable all at the same time. She can feel some hidden part of her stir and begin to retreat in on itself, like a snake devouring its tail. He's so close now, crushing weight on top of her, that she can smell his breath and it wreaks of cigarettes and whiskey, and though she could do without the cigarettes, it is also hot and humid just like Louisiana, and Lord how she loves Louisiana. She can't figure out what that pounding is in her head until she realizes it's her heart, and it feels as if it's move into her throat while the place it should be continues to sink in on itself.
And just when it feels like she may submit herself, despite not being in a submission hold, she feels a large hand rest against her thigh and the thick fingers tap gently three times. She releases her hold on the arm immediately and Press falls back to land on his back, his hand grabbing at the elbow joint as he lies on his side and kicks at the mat to try and block out the pain currently sending bolts of lightening up his shoulders. Munin lets her head sink back into the hard canvas and stares up at the ceiling, thinking that if she were to open the park back up as a wrestling museum she would have to get someone to fix those rafters.
On the outside Youth watches both of his friends lie on the mat and lets out a low whistle that neither of them acknowledge. After that he chuckles before rolling into the ring to stand over Munin to offer her a hand. She looks up at the young man who appears as a dark silhouette against the lights hanging over the ring, and offers a weak smile before reaching up to take the gesture. He hoists her up onto her feet, and it's just then that she realizes how tired she is and how every muscle aches, but especially the spot on her midsection where Press had tagged her with a right hand from earlier before.
Press looks up from his position on his side comically, and groans, "Oh yeah, help her up why don't you? Leave me down here to die."
Youth laughs now, and Munin finds herself smiling despite the fact that it feels like her chest is slowly expanding to the shape it is supposed to be.
"Oh shut up, you big oaf. How you gonna let her put you down in a bear trap?" He says while grabbing Press under the arm and pulling hilariously on the man in order to try and hoist his much larger frame.
"Hey" she responds playfully, letting out a chuckle of her own as she grabs the top rope to lean against it.
Once Press has his own set of ropes to lean against, Youth shrugs his shoulders and sends a sheepish smile in Munin's direction. "I'm just stating the obvious. There for a minute I thought he was going to literally take your head off, and then...BOOM...he's all tangled up. Nice work, Nin!"
Munin returns the smile as she sits down on the middle rope feeling more like herself. She glances over at the big man under dark lashes and he returns her gaze for just a moment, before flashing a smile of his own. She doesn't show it outwardly, but somewhere on the inside there is a sigh of a relief. A sight that says they're going to be ok. They don't have to explore those feelings. She has too much on her plate right now anyways, and has her own goals to explore without muddying them up.
Press pushes off the rope, still favoring his arm, and nods towards the entrance where the PAW logo is half falling down onto the stage. "I think I'm going to get a shower and head to Sam's. You're buying tonight."
As he slips past her and through the ropes she rolls her eyes and lets out a mock exasperated tinkling laugh. "I'm always buying..."
"Least you can do," he replies over his shoulder as he ambles towards the backstage area. "I mean, you did nearly take my arm out of its socket."
She watches him disappear around the corner and turns her gaze back to Youth who stares at her thoughtfully with his arms once again crossed over his chest. Her eyes narrow comically into a V, before stating flatly, "What?"
Youth's grin could light up a room and when it was aimed at her it was no different. She found her bravado melting as he skipped over and booped her on the nose followed by a wink.
"I didn't say nothing..."
Youth watched with a sly smile as his partner's eye twitched and he grabbed the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white. "Yeah, she's a good student." He whispers, probably because if he tried to say it in any other tone he would explode.
"If you say so. She doesn't sweat that much when she's in there with me, and I have her running all over the place. But when she's in there with you, man, it's like I can hear her heart beating. Tha-Dump, Tha-Dump, Tha-Dump.."
Youth flinches when Press wheels on him from the drivers seat, but the sudden sound of his cell phone's ringtone causes the big man to stop. He huffs before turning to sit back in his seat and snatches his phone up to see who it was that was calling. The Witch Doctor scrolls across his screen in white letters and he swipes his thumb right to answer.
"Hey Sam, we're on our way back now. You won't believe it...Fucking Gobl---Wait, what?" The exclamation of surprise causes Youth to perk up and stare at his partner. Press nods several times even though he knows Samedi can't see him, and then finally says, "Yeah...we're on our way."
He cuts the phone off and sets it down in it's resting place on the center console and stares silently straight ahead with his hand on the ignition. After a few seconds of this, Youth finally gives a nervous jerk and just blurts it out. "What the fuck man? What'd Sam say?"
Press looks over grimly to Youth, and the look in his eyes sends a shiver down the young man's spine.
"Odin just walked into the bar..."
There's a sharp intake of air on Youth's part as he tries to process what he just heard, but he doesn't get the chance before the roaring sound of a big block 400 cuts through everything. At that same instance 'Immigrant Song' by Led Zeppelin shouts over the cars speakers and Press lets out an ironic chuckle with no mirth as he puts the car into gear and it peels out of the parking lot to spill out into the street.
She had been working with Youth most days in the beginning, getting her speed back up, getting used to taking the lumps that come along with striking the mat. After awhile she pointed out that she would eventually need training from Press as well. Not all of her opponents would be as lithe as The Flash and she wanted the whole of their experience. Press, being six foot eleven and tipping the scales at three-hundred-and-sixty-five pounds and her being five foot three and one-hundred-twenty-five pounds didn't sit well with the big man. Youth, on the other hand, agreed with Munin, and between the two of them and the occasional goading by Samedi when he was at the sessions, he finally agreed.
After that they were in the ring most of the time together. Press would push her hard during their workouts on the various equipment left over from the days when PAW was a regular promotion in the now abandoned amusement park. Munin took the workouts in stride, though she could feel the surge of competition returning to her body. She wasn't just working out to keep off the pounds. She was getting into fighting shape, and there was a distinct difference. When it came to the sparring, at first, Press held back and she knew it. She called him out on it and so did Youth. This time peer pressure didn't seem to make that much of a difference, as he just couldn't bring himself to really put the woman in any danger. It was an admirable sentiment, but it didn't help her here. She knew she was going to have to push the point, which probably meant pressing the big man's buttons.
After a week of the continued 'safe' routine, Munin and Press were in the ring together when she deftly side stepped a half attempt by him at a lariat, and drove her boot into the side of his knee that twisted it enough to drop him to it. Now at eye level, she fell back a step and hammered him with multiple shoot kicks that seemed to have little effect but were doing their job in annoying him. He slowly rose and put his meaty hand out to bat her leg away while using the other to give her an unceremonious shove. It wasn't enough to knock her down, but forceful enough to send the message that enough was enough. Only this time, this day, Munin refused the message. Instead she pressed back in on the attack, one-two combinations to his midsection, which admittedly didn't budge against her strikes. But this was just a distraction for what came next, which was a step to his hip up into an uppercut that came so suddenly and abruptly that it broke his defenses and sent him staggering back with a bloody nose.
She had planned on pressing the attack further, but the fist that came sailing at her in response knocked her clear across the ring to land in a heap. When she managed to look up from the mat through her dark hair which had come clear out of it's pony tail to cascade in front of her face, she saw the look of shock, dismay, and apology on Press' face. She knew if she left him in that frame of mind she'd never get what she wanted out of him, so she forced herself up, despite seeing black dots at the corner of her eyes, and motioned she was ready for more. The Big Man's emotions fell as he watched the display, and from that moment forward he never held back on her again.
But in this moment, she was starting to regret that decision. The summer sun had been shining nearly non-stop all summer, heating up the Pure Amusement Arena in the center of the abandoned park. Heat was visibly rising off the pavement outside, but in here the air was a stifling mix of dust and sweat. Add in the calisthenics of sparring with the trauma that happened when you got hit or spiked off the mat, and Munin was damn near hating every decision she had ever made up to this point. A bead of sweat went astray from her hairline and cut dead center of her eyes to drip off the end of her nose, and she ran her taped fist across her forehead to try and prevent anymore from getting into her eyes. She stared across the ring at a monster made of bulge and muscle and the knowledge of how to use all of it to hurt you. On top of all that, he was deceptively fast in his own right, though it looked more like a locomotive building up speed than the zero to sixty his partner could elicit.
He stared across the ring at her, cracking his knuckles, nursing a busted lip from a roundhouse kick he had accepted earlier. It had given him the chance to get hold of her, and despite her efforts she couldn't stop him from sending her slamming into the canvas. She had come up as quick as she could to avoid the leg he tried to drop across her throat moments later, and now they were in a stand off on opposite sides of the ring.
With a roar he charged right at her and for a moment she felt her feet frozen to the mat like concrete. She had faced all manner of opponents in her lineage as a professional wrestler and stared down even bigger monsters outside of the ring, yet nothing could really prepare you for the man coming right at her and closing the gap fast! About the same time she found her feet working again was the same time his right foot began to raise off the canvas, and she knew exactly what he was trying to do and exactly what it would do to her if he landed it. His Sudden Stop running big boot had been used to set up his Press Release Powerbomb his entire run as the PAW Champion, and she had been the one to write the checks to cover the damage after he hit one.
Knowing her very fate might depend on it, Lady Munin dives forward, tucking her head in the process which allows her body to drop low so that she hits the mat with her shoulder and commits to a roll that puts her deftly under the boot that was aimed right at her head. Press, being as large as he is, can't stop his momentum, so as he continues forward she rolls past and up to her feet behind him. He does manage to lower the boot and come to a stop before striking the turnbuckle, and by the time she's charging back at him he's already spun to face her.
But it's too late...
And he knows it.
Instead of going straight ahead she jukes to her right, then back to her left into a short jump that puts her on the second rope which allows her to springboard back the other way as she brings her knee to strike across his face. It's enough impact to knock the big man off balance, and as she lands beside him, she whips hard back to her left and hops up to extend her elbow so that it strikes him square in the nose. This time he falls back into the corner but bounces immediately back out, and Munin is already spinning back to her right, dropping low, and using her legs to tangle him up with a Drop Toe Hold that sends him stumbling down to the canvas onto his face. She spins around to end up at the front end of his body while simutaniously getting hold of his arm and swings herself around until he's locked into a painful arm bar.
She realizes she probably looks like a Chihuahua trying to tackle a grizzly bear, but she doesn't care. Instead, instinct kicks in, and she thrusts her pelvis into his elbow joint and tries to hyper-extend his arm. He roars in defiance, getting his knee's under him and actually lifts her right off the canvas all in one motion. "He's just too big," she thinks, even as she is flung around in the air while still essentially riding his arm.
Youth can be heard snickering just outside the ring where he leans against the ring post with his arms crossed. "Looks like Munin's the flame, and you're trying to put her out..."
"She's breaking my arm, you ass!" Press seethes as he continues to thrash around.
Munin's hair whips all around her, and for just a moment, she thinks "This is kind of fun. Like one of the old amusement rides.." When she's suddenly lifted so that she's straight up in the air, and then driven right down to slam off the mat.
The sudden impact causes her to let loose of the hold but Press is winded after the exchange, and before he can move to get away from her she latches right back on for more of the same. He roars again, this time a little weaker, as he searches for some way to get this Harpy off of him. Munin lets out a roar of her own as she wrenches back, and though not quite as impressive, she's still proud of her self. Press rolls suddenly up so that her shoulders are pressed into the mat with her knees digging into her chest, but still she has his arm compromised. He comes to a point where they are nearly face to face, their eyes locking. She is completely in the moment, pushing with all her might to get him off of her and still cause the arm damage, when she shockingly realizes there's something else in his eyes as he pierces down at her.
Something that makes her feel disagreeable and oddly comfortable all at the same time. She can feel some hidden part of her stir and begin to retreat in on itself, like a snake devouring its tail. He's so close now, crushing weight on top of her, that she can smell his breath and it wreaks of cigarettes and whiskey, and though she could do without the cigarettes, it is also hot and humid just like Louisiana, and Lord how she loves Louisiana. She can't figure out what that pounding is in her head until she realizes it's her heart, and it feels as if it's move into her throat while the place it should be continues to sink in on itself.
And just when it feels like she may submit herself, despite not being in a submission hold, she feels a large hand rest against her thigh and the thick fingers tap gently three times. She releases her hold on the arm immediately and Press falls back to land on his back, his hand grabbing at the elbow joint as he lies on his side and kicks at the mat to try and block out the pain currently sending bolts of lightening up his shoulders. Munin lets her head sink back into the hard canvas and stares up at the ceiling, thinking that if she were to open the park back up as a wrestling museum she would have to get someone to fix those rafters.
On the outside Youth watches both of his friends lie on the mat and lets out a low whistle that neither of them acknowledge. After that he chuckles before rolling into the ring to stand over Munin to offer her a hand. She looks up at the young man who appears as a dark silhouette against the lights hanging over the ring, and offers a weak smile before reaching up to take the gesture. He hoists her up onto her feet, and it's just then that she realizes how tired she is and how every muscle aches, but especially the spot on her midsection where Press had tagged her with a right hand from earlier before.
Press looks up from his position on his side comically, and groans, "Oh yeah, help her up why don't you? Leave me down here to die."
Youth laughs now, and Munin finds herself smiling despite the fact that it feels like her chest is slowly expanding to the shape it is supposed to be.
"Oh shut up, you big oaf. How you gonna let her put you down in a bear trap?" He says while grabbing Press under the arm and pulling hilariously on the man in order to try and hoist his much larger frame.
"Hey" she responds playfully, letting out a chuckle of her own as she grabs the top rope to lean against it.
Once Press has his own set of ropes to lean against, Youth shrugs his shoulders and sends a sheepish smile in Munin's direction. "I'm just stating the obvious. There for a minute I thought he was going to literally take your head off, and then...BOOM...he's all tangled up. Nice work, Nin!"
Munin returns the smile as she sits down on the middle rope feeling more like herself. She glances over at the big man under dark lashes and he returns her gaze for just a moment, before flashing a smile of his own. She doesn't show it outwardly, but somewhere on the inside there is a sigh of a relief. A sight that says they're going to be ok. They don't have to explore those feelings. She has too much on her plate right now anyways, and has her own goals to explore without muddying them up.
Press pushes off the rope, still favoring his arm, and nods towards the entrance where the PAW logo is half falling down onto the stage. "I think I'm going to get a shower and head to Sam's. You're buying tonight."
As he slips past her and through the ropes she rolls her eyes and lets out a mock exasperated tinkling laugh. "I'm always buying..."
"Least you can do," he replies over his shoulder as he ambles towards the backstage area. "I mean, you did nearly take my arm out of its socket."
She watches him disappear around the corner and turns her gaze back to Youth who stares at her thoughtfully with his arms once again crossed over his chest. Her eyes narrow comically into a V, before stating flatly, "What?"
Youth's grin could light up a room and when it was aimed at her it was no different. She found her bravado melting as he skipped over and booped her on the nose followed by a wink.
"I didn't say nothing..."
ABANONDED CAR PARK
LOWER NINTH WARD
NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA
A FEW DAYS LATER
A FEW DAYS LATER
Bullets soar past the opening in the wall where both Press and Youth press their bodies flat on either side of it. Following the hail of bullets came the chittering insults of Goblins in their guttural language. The two men exchange a glance and Youth watches as Press' face turns hard like steel just before he spins out into the opening and fires three return shots in the opposite direction from his S&W XVR 460 Magnum. The large hand cannon barks out into the night like thunder across the sky and the Goblin insults are replaced by screams as they duck and dive to find their own cover. He quickly slides back into position with his back to the wall as Youth sneaks a peak past his corner with a chuckle.
"That got their attention..."
"Always does. Fucking cowards."
Youth settles back against the wall, holding two fifty caliber Dessert Eagles at either of his sides, which looks comical in the hands of someone so thin. He lets out a sigh, and lolls his head to his right to comment to his partner.
"She's doing pretty good, right?"
Press looked to his left quizzically, "Who?"
"Munin, you idiot."
"Really? You want to talk about this now?"
Two more shots rang out from the Goblin's side of things and this time it's followed by a wart, wart, wart sound. The Goblins were laughing at them.
Press, fuming, swings back around the opening and fires three more shots and this time a wet splattering sound rings down the corridor and something hits the ground hard enough to echo. The big man has just enough time to slip back around the corner before bullets start ricocheting off the cement where he just disappeared out of view.
He begins emptying the shells from the six shooter as Youth eyes him. "Come on, dude. This is just a Tuesday for us. Don't avoid the subject."
Press mumbles something to himself while he shakes his head in annoyance, popping six more bullets to replace the ones he fired. He turns a disgruntled gaze back at his partner. "Yes, she's doing great. Are you happy now?"
More shots come from down the corridor followed by more insults, and this time it's Youth that rolls his eyes in annoyance. He lifts both Dessert Eagles and peels around the corner opening fire. With each trigger pull he takes a step forward, closing the gap between himself and his enemies, never giving any of them the chance to peek their head over the makeshift barrier they were hiding behind as he goes. He can hear Press swearing behind him as he labors to catch up, and the minute the two barrels stop firing, Press fires at the place where the first Goblin peers out to try and catch a glimpse. His head slams back from the bullet to splatter against the wall behind him and it seems like after a few seconds his body finally catches up.
Another call in the guttural language goes up and Youth has to dip down as Press' outstretched hand passes over him to fire at another one of the creatures. This one takes one to the chest and the bullet rips through him to explode out the other side. Green and black ichor goes everywhere as the two men continue their trek forwards, Youth dropping the clips from his dueling pistols only to lower his hands to his side where his belt's mechanism feeds two more magazines seamlessly into the slides.
The insults have come to a stop as the final two Goblins peek around the corner to see their deaths coming, and both exchange a glance before turning to retreat further into the building. They make it barely ten steps before two .50 Caliber bullets bury themselves into the back of the one on the left, while the Magnum barks out two more shots that strike the one on the right in the hip. It spins around and the second shot catches it right at the top of its skull, sending it flying off as if it were wearing a baseball cap. Both drop to the ground into a pile and then begin dissolving just like their counterparts did, and after about twenty minutes there's nothing left but a slick green ooze that resembles a tractor trailer oil stain on the concrete.
Press holsters his weapon and shakes his head. "We need to get out of here. That was too noisy and had to raise suspicion."
Youth raised his eyebrows. "In this neighborhood? Doubtful."
"A .50 Cal and a Magnum don't sound like your average hand guns. The fucking locals probably think someone's hunting stray cats or something."
"Fine, fine. Let's head back to the car. I wonder what these fuckers were up to anyways? I haven't seen a Goblin in awhile."
The two men began making their way back through the opening that had been their entry point. "Yeah, me neither. Kind of strange that one of the old mythos would show up in the city now. I mean, these guys go all the way back to early man."
"I'll see if Sam has any books on the lore. Maybe there's some ritual or anniversary we're overlooking to explain all this sudden activity. But anyways, back to the point." The two men had reached the 1966 Pontiac Tempest that was parked close by and were slipping into their respective seats when sirens called out somewhere nearby. "Munin. You guys have been pretty intense every time you're in the ring together. Some real chemistry there."
"That got their attention..."
"Always does. Fucking cowards."
Youth settles back against the wall, holding two fifty caliber Dessert Eagles at either of his sides, which looks comical in the hands of someone so thin. He lets out a sigh, and lolls his head to his right to comment to his partner.
"She's doing pretty good, right?"
Press looked to his left quizzically, "Who?"
"Munin, you idiot."
"Really? You want to talk about this now?"
Two more shots rang out from the Goblin's side of things and this time it's followed by a wart, wart, wart sound. The Goblins were laughing at them.
Press, fuming, swings back around the opening and fires three more shots and this time a wet splattering sound rings down the corridor and something hits the ground hard enough to echo. The big man has just enough time to slip back around the corner before bullets start ricocheting off the cement where he just disappeared out of view.
He begins emptying the shells from the six shooter as Youth eyes him. "Come on, dude. This is just a Tuesday for us. Don't avoid the subject."
Press mumbles something to himself while he shakes his head in annoyance, popping six more bullets to replace the ones he fired. He turns a disgruntled gaze back at his partner. "Yes, she's doing great. Are you happy now?"
More shots come from down the corridor followed by more insults, and this time it's Youth that rolls his eyes in annoyance. He lifts both Dessert Eagles and peels around the corner opening fire. With each trigger pull he takes a step forward, closing the gap between himself and his enemies, never giving any of them the chance to peek their head over the makeshift barrier they were hiding behind as he goes. He can hear Press swearing behind him as he labors to catch up, and the minute the two barrels stop firing, Press fires at the place where the first Goblin peers out to try and catch a glimpse. His head slams back from the bullet to splatter against the wall behind him and it seems like after a few seconds his body finally catches up.
Another call in the guttural language goes up and Youth has to dip down as Press' outstretched hand passes over him to fire at another one of the creatures. This one takes one to the chest and the bullet rips through him to explode out the other side. Green and black ichor goes everywhere as the two men continue their trek forwards, Youth dropping the clips from his dueling pistols only to lower his hands to his side where his belt's mechanism feeds two more magazines seamlessly into the slides.
The insults have come to a stop as the final two Goblins peek around the corner to see their deaths coming, and both exchange a glance before turning to retreat further into the building. They make it barely ten steps before two .50 Caliber bullets bury themselves into the back of the one on the left, while the Magnum barks out two more shots that strike the one on the right in the hip. It spins around and the second shot catches it right at the top of its skull, sending it flying off as if it were wearing a baseball cap. Both drop to the ground into a pile and then begin dissolving just like their counterparts did, and after about twenty minutes there's nothing left but a slick green ooze that resembles a tractor trailer oil stain on the concrete.
Press holsters his weapon and shakes his head. "We need to get out of here. That was too noisy and had to raise suspicion."
Youth raised his eyebrows. "In this neighborhood? Doubtful."
"A .50 Cal and a Magnum don't sound like your average hand guns. The fucking locals probably think someone's hunting stray cats or something."
"Fine, fine. Let's head back to the car. I wonder what these fuckers were up to anyways? I haven't seen a Goblin in awhile."
The two men began making their way back through the opening that had been their entry point. "Yeah, me neither. Kind of strange that one of the old mythos would show up in the city now. I mean, these guys go all the way back to early man."
"I'll see if Sam has any books on the lore. Maybe there's some ritual or anniversary we're overlooking to explain all this sudden activity. But anyways, back to the point." The two men had reached the 1966 Pontiac Tempest that was parked close by and were slipping into their respective seats when sirens called out somewhere nearby. "Munin. You guys have been pretty intense every time you're in the ring together. Some real chemistry there."
Youth watched with a sly smile as his partner's eye twitched and he grabbed the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white. "Yeah, she's a good student." He whispers, probably because if he tried to say it in any other tone he would explode.
"If you say so. She doesn't sweat that much when she's in there with me, and I have her running all over the place. But when she's in there with you, man, it's like I can hear her heart beating. Tha-Dump, Tha-Dump, Tha-Dump.."
Youth flinches when Press wheels on him from the drivers seat, but the sudden sound of his cell phone's ringtone causes the big man to stop. He huffs before turning to sit back in his seat and snatches his phone up to see who it was that was calling. The Witch Doctor scrolls across his screen in white letters and he swipes his thumb right to answer.
"Hey Sam, we're on our way back now. You won't believe it...Fucking Gobl---Wait, what?" The exclamation of surprise causes Youth to perk up and stare at his partner. Press nods several times even though he knows Samedi can't see him, and then finally says, "Yeah...we're on our way."
He cuts the phone off and sets it down in it's resting place on the center console and stares silently straight ahead with his hand on the ignition. After a few seconds of this, Youth finally gives a nervous jerk and just blurts it out. "What the fuck man? What'd Sam say?"
Press looks over grimly to Youth, and the look in his eyes sends a shiver down the young man's spine.
"Odin just walked into the bar..."
There's a sharp intake of air on Youth's part as he tries to process what he just heard, but he doesn't get the chance before the roaring sound of a big block 400 cuts through everything. At that same instance 'Immigrant Song' by Led Zeppelin shouts over the cars speakers and Press lets out an ironic chuckle with no mirth as he puts the car into gear and it peels out of the parking lot to spill out into the street.
TO BE CONTINUED...
