A Quiet Night InMature

He turned off his T.V. The only thing showing had been uninterrupted coverage of the 2032 Olympics from the Pan Asian capital Djakarta, and he really didn’t feel like watching.

Garcia stood up and walked across the tiny studio, apartment to the small refrigerator. He opened it and bent his bulk to peer inside. He hadn’t left the apartment in days, and as a result the fridge was almost completely empty. He grabbed a bottle of beer from the top shelf and a de-frosted frozen burrito from next to a week old takeaway box.

As the big man walked back towards the tattered, old armchair he had previously occupied, a commotion came from outside his door.

He mumbled to himself, “I told them motherfucking people to keep their bloody noise down!”

Suddenly his front door exploded inwards and four Policemen in full riot gear burst through the now empty doorframe with their shields raised and their batons drawn.

“Get down now!” barked a sergeant of larger than average stature. “Get down or we will be forced to put you down!”

The others tried to make themselves appear more intimidating by adopting more aggressive stances and beating their batons against their shields.

The big man stood staring uncomprehending at what was happening. The police sergeant edged closer to his target, but that was a grave mistake. Garcia swung his left arm and opened his fist. This caused the as yet unopened beer bottle to fly across the room and collide with the sergeant’s shield, shattering and filling the air with foamy droplets of amber liquid. The sergeant recoiled and as he did, his opponent raised his size thirteen boot and drove it into his knee. The joint buckled beneath the weight of the policeman’s gear with a loud crack. The sergeant collapsed screaming, agony etched into his contorted features.

The other policemen were stunned with the speed at which the huge bulk of a man moved. The officer that was behind his sergeant charged at the big man swinging his baton high towards his targets shoulder, rage was plastered onto his face. With lightning speed Garcia grabbed the weapon and at the same time drove his fist at the policeman’s face. The huge lump of bone and flesh crashed through the riot shield and the visor of the copper’s helmet. The policeman’s nose turned to pulp and shards of glass were driven deep into his skull. The power behind the strike caused the man to fall backwards and landed with a thump on the floor. Blood streaked across his face and he turned pale very quickly. The brawl lasted for only a couple of minutes but already two of the officers were down and the huge bulk that constituted Garcia hadn’t even broken into a sweat.

It was little surprise that the remaining two officers were stunned at their opponent’s ferocity. They recoiled, took half a step back and dropped their batons. From pouches on their belts, each officer drew a 9mm handgun. They pointed the weapons at Garcia who stood still, eyeing each man with eagerness.

At that moment a man entered the room wearing a full military officer’s uniform. This consisted of black seamless trousers, and a graphite, grey tunic jacket with silver piping down the front and on the epaulettes. His boots were polished to a perfect sheen and you could see the sickly orange light from the limply hanging bulb in the center of the room.

“I think that’s enough of that, don’t you?” The man said with a sneer embedded permanently in the corner of his mouth.

“Son of a bitch!” Swore Garcia as he set eyes on the man who had just entered.

“Well it's nice to see you again to,” came the sarcastic response. The two men eyed each other suspiciously and the two police officers stood, confused by what was happening.

“I actually came to give you some news,” the black suited man continued, “it would appear the army has been looking for you for a number of years now.”

Garcia let out the breath he had been holding. The sudden expulsion of air caused one of the officers to flinch. Garcia smiled and winked at the army officer. He smiled back and continued his diatribe.

“They put out a warrant for your arrest, but it would appear that you are quite the escape artist.”

“Actually I prefer ghost. It sounds more sinister, and that was always my style.” He retorted.

“It doesn’t matter any more, we’ve found you now and I think it’s in your best interest to come with us!”

Garcia had other ideas he raised his fists to suggest that they both fight. The black clad army officer reached into the pocket of his jacket and drew a taser.

“That wouldn’t be a good idea, would it Mr. Garcia?” he asked with a slight wink.

Garcia dropped his fists, and without warning the officer fired. Two wires uncoiled themselves as they flew towards their target. The barbs that carried the wires struck home, embedding themselves into the thick muscle of Garcia’s chest. 50,000 volts of electricity drove from the taser gun, along the wires and through the big man’s body. Unable to control his muscles, Garcia dropped to the floor, his body writhing like caught fish. The attack stopped and the army officer stepped closer.

“Come now little brother, daddy is waiting.” He leaned his head back and laughed at the sight of Garcia in pain on the floor. The tall officer turned and strode from the room as the two policemen were left to handcuff the prone man. One of the officers leaned over the enormous man to see that nobody was looking, and gave the man a swift kick to the midriff. Garcia grunted but did not retaliate and allowed himself to be dragged from the room. He would wait and do his thing, “when the time is right,” he uttered under his breath.

The End

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