An updated version of Chapter of Loading: Life.
(My work is now in the hands of my editor. I’ll keep you all updated on my progress!)
Hero ran through the maze-like alleyways from the punks that were trying to beat in his face with bats and fence posts. Apparently skipping school was turning out to be one of the worst ideas he’s ever had.
“Come back here you piece of shit!” yelled the punk in front, hands sparking into a furious red.
Hero swerved around corners, weaving through the back streets, his eyes searching every second to find an escape. One wrong turn sent him down a dead end. Almost effortlessly, though, and he jumped the fence blocking his path. Those barking hounds were getting closer.
“Come and get me if you can, idiots!” Hero grinned, eyes on the fence as he kept running.
“You’re all a bunch of mor-”
His stomach caved in as a rock-hard fist hurled its way through the air. Falling to the ground, Hero could see Caz glaring with coal-black eyes. The guy’s fist was blackened over with ore from his attack. A green bar already lit up above his attacker’s head.
Hero tried to get back on his feet, but Caz’s boot struck his chest and shoved him back down.
“Nice of you to keep my things safe for me, but I’ll be needing them back now.”
“Hey, Cassy. How ya’ doing?”
Caz lunged forward, face inches away from Hero’s. The tobacco scent wafted up to Hero’s nose, making his eyes water. “It’s Caz. Not Cassy.” Caz stood back up, his boot back on Hero’s chest. “Now where is my stash, boy?”
“Ya’ know. We’re just a few years apart. No need to call me boy.”
“Beat it out of you, then? Sounds fun.”
Caz snapped his fingers and two of his biggest goons jerked Hero up by his shoulders.
Caz cracked his knuckles, forming bigger, harder ore around his fists. The blood-like glow of his aura spread up his arms.
“One last chance, shit head. Hand them over willingly or you’re dead.”
Hero cocked his head to the side, his grin curling at the edges. “I don’t think being hit by a child will hurt that badly.”
Hero was barraged by two powerful fists. Blood spurted from his mouth. He could feel his energy and health depleting. The whooping and hollering from Caz’s gang was overtaken by the ringing in his ears. Hero knew he was going to die.
At least, he thought, he didn’t have to bother with school anymore. Or that annoying teacher-
“Get away from him!”
Hero was thrown to the side, dropping with a hard thud on the ground. He instinctively curled up, holding his stomach. Stomping feet and yelling teenagers faded away in a matter of seconds. Still, Hero knew he was not alone.
Soft foot steps thumped towards him. He silently prayed it was not a cop. Or a badder thug. Or certainly not-
“And what the hell do you think you’re doing out here, boy?”
It just had to be his teacher.
(c) E.N. Chaffin, 2017. Any reproduction without author permission is against copyright laws under the United States of America.