Monday, February 25, 2013

T. N - Chapter 62

*Author's note: Well hello everyone! I've been bad, and put off writing this chapter for over a month now...whoops, guess I'm the inactive one now :P 
In this chapter, you'll see something called Aikido, which is a type of martial arts. The basic principle is using somebody's energy when trying to hit you and using it against them. "Sticky hands" is an actual technique that I've been trying to learn for awhile now.
Now back to the story!*

As soon as we landed safely on the ground, I quickly pushed off Heathcliff, and almost fell over as my legs collapse underneath me. Thankfully, I managed to shoot out my hands and break my fall instinctively. I stand back up, pain shooting up my right leg. I must have landed weirdly when I jumped into the helicopter earlier.
I started walking as fast as I could to where I approximated Charlie had landed. He had disappeared just beyond the hill I was on, so I couldn’t see him where I was. As soon as I reached the point right before the hill started to dip, I froze. A familiar monster truck was parked below, and just a few meters off from it was Charlie (still buckled into his seat, the idiot) and a mysterious woman in black. I quickly made the connection between the woman and the truck.
I immediately dropped to the ground partially to avoid being spotted, and partially to stop my leg from killing me. I carefully peered over the edge, and saw the woman and Charlie deep in conversation. From the distance, I couldn’t really see details, but Charlie’s mouth was wide open, so something stunned him. I was skeptical at first, considering that it doesn’t take much to astonish him (I’m just being blunt here), but there was a possibility that this was important. I started to inch forward to get a better look (and possibly rescue Charlie, if that was the case), when I felt someone tug sharply on my injured leg.
I wildly lashed out with my good leg, trying to get whomever it was to let go. My foot grazed something, but it wasn’t enough to hurt anybody. Now if it was Dennis, he would’ve said something by now (he’s been wary of my feet ever since I kicked him hard enough in the shin to give him a bruise that lasted a month). I doubted it was Kent or Heathcliff, as the former would usually pick me up in a more normal fashion while the latter would probably fall on me instead. I lashed out again, and my foot connected with the person’s kneecap.
The person let out a low grunt surprise and pain, and grabbed his knee. This gave me enough time to roll over, get up and ready myself. I quickly glanced over at Charlie and the woman down the hill, but they hadn’t looked up. Good. The last thing I needed was a skilled sharpshooter watching me with her gun.
The man had a sharp, fox-like face, and his eyes were constantly darting. He had a few days’ stubble over his cheeks. His body was solidly built, and I could tell he was at least a head taller than Dennis and probably a few pounds heavier too. He was dressed all in black, much like the woman. However, the front of his shirt was covered in chunks of some shiny (and probably hard) material, with enough gaps to allow movement around the torso while still being protected. He had a set of futuristic looking headphones on, with an eyepiece that covered one eye in green glass. If I may say so, he looked like someone straight out of G.I. Joe.
I tried to make my stance even as possible, but I could tell I favoured my right leg. By the way the man looked at me, I could tell he had noticed too. He immediately started lashing out with his feet, trying to make me fall over. I also wonder if it was out of revenge too. That kick I gave him would probably leave quite the mark for a while.
His moves were very offensive, trying to batter me down with blows. It was a common technique, especially of a person his size. Kyle would often use that technique on Dennis, who being a few years younger and smaller, was often quite defenseless. Thankfully, I learned from his mistakes.
Grandfather had taught me a version of Aikido, where you would constantly move with the opponent, always keeping your hands against the other person’s hands and arms. It was called “Sticky Hands,” a suitable name. As long as you did that, and kept up with the person, it was impossible for he or she to strike, as you would just redirect their energy elsewhere. It was difficult to learn, as it requires great concentration to stay with the other’s person “ki,” or energy. After some practices with Kyle, I managed to master it quickly. To this day, Kyle refuses to spar with me.
The man lunged at me, and I quickly shifted to apply my sticky hands to my opponent’s arms. He tried sweeping my feet out from under me, but I spin him so that he missed his mark. He tried punching me, and all I had to do was move my arm and he nearly lost his balance as his energy went forward without hitting anything.
To a bystander, it might've looked like we were dancing. To the man (I almost pitied him), it was a humiliating experience.
By the end of a few minutes, maybe only 3 or so, he was exhausted from expending so much energy towards useless hits. I was getting tired too, from concentrating on matching the man's moves and flow. That's when I got careless, and he managed to get one sweep of the leg in.
I was surprised to feel my legs suddenly disappear from under me, and I nearly didn't manage to break my fall as I was taught to. But somehow, instinct and training clicked, and I took the man down with me with one final kick in the same knee as before.
The man let out a sharp yelp, and started rolling down the hill. I slowly got up, my right leg shaking even more than it had been before. I brushed the dirt and grass off my clothes, and was about to make my way down the hill when I heard applause right behind me. Turning around, I see the woman in black, clapping.
"Nice work there, Theo. I'm sure he'll be teased later by the others about how he was beaten by a girl."

No comments:

Post a Comment