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Take The Skinheads Bowling


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"Stop jumpong all over the place!" yells the only untouched thug as he again charges at Nightrival only to miss again.

The badly wounded thug moves away from the fight, trying ot escape any more damage from the street hero. The other powered thug shakes his head in an attempt to clear it from the blow just dealt him.

From the doorway, the leader comes out carrying a slightly bulking bag. He sees the fight is still raging and the wounded state the men. "We got what we came for! Pull out!"

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NightrivalHS.jpg

Nightrival looks at his options. Sandwiched between two Power House thugs towering over him and Grim knocked to the ground and almost out of reach, he spots the one heading the skinhead crew running from the scene with a mysterious object clenched in his hands. Nightrival furrows his brow beneath his mask.

I can't be leavin' Grim 'ere, tho' whatever Einstein there is holdin' is gotta be important.

He peers over to Grim and realizes that she's conscious. He exhales a brief sigh of relief yet he instinctively knows that no matter how tough a fighter is, once someone is down and surrounded they remain vunerable. Nightrival made an oath to protect anyone who needs his help and Grim is no exception, superhero or not.

Nightrival slips the escrima staves underneath his padded gloves. He then crouches low so his belly scrapes the pavement and snags Grim's shoulders, stretching his legs and spine to add a few precious inches. Pulling her towards him and slinging her over his shoulder, he draws out a swing line stashed under his belt just as he bounds over the Power House goon with a forward somersault, his one arm clasped tightly around Grim. To the naked eye, Nightrival grabs his partner and slips through his opponents in a single mercurial movement.

"Hold on, kid; I'm gettin' ya outta 'ere. Ya can hate me later."

The swing line soars out of Nightrival's hand and catches the roof's edge, and the two heroes swing over the goon and land a few feet away, hopefully giving Grim enough time to recover. Nightrival puts her down and turns his head to mark the gang leader fleeing the garage. He huffs like an angry dog, ready to pounce on the skinhead.

"Ya gonna be alright?" he asks Grim while his eyes are still trained on his target.

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She could still hear the sounds of combat, but muffled like she was underwater, and it was all red behind her eyes. She was aware that she was in a great deal of pain, but it didn't seem terribly important, a memo to be idly scanned before dropping it in the wastepaper basket.

Suddenly she feels the brush of a muscular arm, and now she's floating like Wendy in Peter Pan, a bubble of red warmth surrounding her head.

((("Hold on, kid; I'm gettin' ya outta 'ere. Ya can hate me later.")))

The distant voice filters through her bubble, and a sharp point of light stabs her in the eyes as a stray thought hits her.

The fight isn't over; he still needs me...

((("Ya gonna be alright?")))

She can feel herself nodding as a warm stream of blood trickles out of her nose, and something wobbles in her jaw.

You have to swim to the surface; he's still up there, and he needs you...

She takes a deep breath and pushes, as her eyes flutter open and the world rushes in-

"I'm fine, I'm fine."

She's lying on the asphalt of the parking lot, damp with sweat and feeling cold for the first time in months, though it quickly passes; directly above her, she can see Rival's eyes tracking someone just out of her range of vision, and she gives him a sharp nod that she instantly regrets.

"Go, go get him."

Grim activates her camouflage and rises unsteadily to her feet, trying to get the current lay of the land.

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Grim struggles to her feet and calls for Nightrival to continue without her. Just as the street hero is about ot head after teh leader, the flames upon the burning van reach the gas tank. The van explodes in a large shower of sparks and flames, drawing the two heroes attention.

They quickly see that there were no civilians in the area but when they turn back towards the leader, they see he has disappeared along with the powered thugs. Only the normal thugs still remain on the ground unconcious.

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NightrivalHS.jpg

Nightrival winces when the van finally explodes, his ears ringing from the burning blast. After a prompt examination of the block by gazing down both ends of the street, he is relieved to see no one is in the vicinity. Grim appears to be managing despite her injury. Nightrival immediately notices that their opponents have fled, and he feels as though he swallowed a pointed seed that sits heavily in his chest.

"Dang it," he mutters. "They're prob'ly gone by now. Ain't no way I can track'em."

The bitter little seed blossoms into rage. His rational self is shunted to the recesses of his clouded mind and he clenches his fists so tight, his fingernails dig through his gloves and pierce his calloused palms. Suddenly, he takes a step and drives his fist into the wall.

"Dang it!"

He turns away from Grim and looks up at the night sky smothered with smoke. He made a promise back at the shelter to protect the innocent people victimized by this vicious gang. Most of these goons will be arrested, and if the community is brave enough to testify these scumbags will see some jail time. The two heroes will have to continue hunting for the rest. He inhales deeply, taking in the gasoline fumes from across the street, then calms himself down. He remembers Monty, most likely hiding somewhere nearby.

What were thos' goons up ta? What did beardo take from th' garage?

Nightrival cups his hands around his mouth and yells: "Yo! Person we rescued! Where ya at?"

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The heat rolling off the burning van is surprisingly intense, but it's nothing compared to the hot shame Grim feels in the pit of her stomach; she staggers over to the red sport car and leans against it, panting deeply.

"I don't like it...when they hit me. It's like it takes us...both out of the fight. I appreciate you saving me, or whatever, but...I need to learn how...to save myself." She makes a few random punching motions. "Gotta toughen up...like a...whole bunch."

"Yo! Person we rescued! Where ya at?"

Even though she knows it's gonna hurt, she joins Rival in shouting.

"Olly olly oxen free! Come out, come out...wherever you are!"

Oh yeah, that hurt a lot.

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After teh flames of the burning van gets under control, Monty reappears to look at what happened to his shop. He sees the two heroes still about, though one seems to have been seriously beaten on. Monty looks at the thugs lying about unconcious on the ground.

"Come in. I can get you some ice, at least. Also, best to have you two off the street when the cops show up anyway," he says leading you into his main lobby area.

Papers are scattered everywhere. A file cabinet is tilted over and has obviously been searched. Monty moves slowly, looking at the mess with his shoulders slumped. "It's going to take me some time to get this mess all cleaned up." He moves over to the sofa and clears off a space for the heroes to sit. He picks up a chair and sets it aside for use. Monty skirts a few piles of paper to the small fridge and takes out some ice. He quickly wraps it up in a towel and hands it to the heroes.

"Thanks for coming by, when you did. I'd most likely be dead now if you two hadn't come along."

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NightrivalHS.jpg

"I don't like it...when they hit me. It's like it takes us...both out of the fight. I appreciate you saving me, or whatever, but...I need to learn how...to save myself." She makes a few random punching motions. "Gotta toughen up...like a...whole bunch."

"Ya better take it easy, then; ya took a pretty solid hit back there. We'll work on rollin' wit' yer attacker in th' future, alright?"

Nightrival admires the young hero's resiliance but he can't resist his guilt and uncertainty at taking on a student, if that could describe their relationship. He won't always be there to swing her away from danger. For now, he takes solace that she's safe and makes a mental note to focus on teaching defensive strategies to her.

Or maybe somethin' more . . . drastic.

"Come in. I can get you some ice, at least. Also, best to have you two off the street when the cops show up anyway," he says leading you into his main lobby area.

"Sure. Thanks, man."

Nightrival follows Monty into the garage and notes the mess the skinheads left behind them. He becomes particularly interested in the file cabinet. He takes the ice pack from Monty and passes it to Grim, beckoning her to sit on the couch. Nightrival takes a seat and stretches out his legs.

"Thanks for coming by, when you did. I'd most likely be dead now if you two hadn't come along."

"It's th' least we can do. Yer a big help ta th' folks around thes' parts. So, what did thos' guys want from ya, anyway?"

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Monty looks around the mess, his shoulders still slumped. "I'm not really sure," he says slowly. His tone gives the impression that he may just have an idea but is unwilling to discuss it just yet.

"They came here talking about weapons and taking out the competition. But I don't deal with no weapons! This is a car shop, not a factory for weapon making. Look what they did to my place! As if they'd find anything worth taking in here."

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NightrivalHS.jpg

Nightrival rubs his chin. He straightens his back and leans his elbows on his knees, edging a little closer to Monty.

"Listen, I know this all can be intimidatin', with thugs and red giants and such, but ya gotta help us out here. People in this 'hood are gettin' victimized by thes' scumbags. That's why we're out 'ere tonight, tryin' ta put a stop ta th' violence. But we can't do that 'less folks tell us everythin' they know, ya get what I'm sayin'?"

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Monty nods his head. "Yeah, I hear you, but it's not your lively hood that's going to get trashed the minute word gets out that you're talking. I've done well for myself here. I help out from time to time and they leave me alone. That's all I ask for. To be left alone."

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From her place on the couch, Grim could see her boss wasn't getting through to the frightened man, and could she blame him for being scared? That freak had practically caved in her face! Still, they needed something to go on, or else she was pulverized for nothing.

Monty nods his head. "Yeah, I hear you, but it's not your lively hood that's going to get trashed the minute word gets out that you're talking. I've done well for myself here. I help out from time to time and they leave me alone. That's all I ask for. To be left alone."

Grim nods as she holds the ice pack to the left side of her face. "I get that. That's all anyone wants these days: keep you head down, keep your mouth shut, and everything will be okay. If you want to live in fear for the rest of your life, that's fine, but it doesn't sound like much of a life to me"

She sits up and the pain gets sharper, but she soldiers on.

"It's like...you swallowed a big hunk of glass that sits in your gut, killing you a little bit each day; you know it's there, you know it's killing you, but at least it's a pain you know, right? Better to just deal with that than to take a risk, to actually think that your life could ever be better."

She rises unsteadily, steps over to Monty and points out the window with the ice pack.

"But everyone else out there has a stomach full of glass, too; kids, old folks, guys like you. That's a whole lot of people bleeding on the inside out of fear, and I'll be honest with you, that's not a world I want to live in anymore."

Grim gently rests her hand on the man's arm; she smiles up at him, and even though she's battered, bloody and half her face is a swollen purple bruise, there is a ray of hope in her eyes.

"So how 'bout it, Monty? Those punks did all this, and they got away; just give us something to go on, anything, and we'll go get 'em."

She gives him a crooked smile.

"As soon as my head changes back from an eggplant."

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Monty looks into Grim's eyes for a moment, silent as he considers her words. After what seems to be long time, Monty lowers his head. "You've got a way a way with words, miss."

Monty looks up and smiles at the two heroes. "Recently, I've been approached by a number of people asking me to build some vehicles for them. Not like a normal car or anything like that. I mean something special. A few of the plans brought to me, I had to turn down. One of the groups that i turned down were those Skinheads. I don'T like their kind at all. Piking on people just because they feel their superior and all. I mean, this is the 21st century, right? All that racial supremacy crap shoul dhave been dumped years ago."

"Anyway, I was forced to work on a different set of plans for another gorup. I really don't want to go into details, but that is what the skinheads wanted. Somehow they learned that I had plans and was working on a new vehicle for their rivals, the Southside C's. I only had the plans for a short time and was working on a small prototype. They want the plans and whatever I had made. I refused, of course. I'm no sell out and do what I say. Luckily, you two showed up and stopped them before they got it."

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NightrivalHS.jpg

Nightrival remains seated as he listens to Grim, occasionally glancing over to Monty to gauge his reaction. He notices Monty's features beginning to soften at hearing his partner's impassioned speech, and Nightrival's ambivalence towards facing a dangerous future with a partner in tow fades away, now engulfed with pride in Grim's empathy and determination.

That's what I'm talkin' 'bout, right there. She's don't need no help; she's already a hero.

"Ah, man. Th' C's are all up in this? We lookin' atta full-blown war brewin' in th' works."

Luckily, you two showed up and stopped them before they got it."

"I got some bad news, man," admits Nightrival, "one o' those guys ran off with somethin' from yer garage. But we'll get it back, I promise." He places his hand on Monty's shoulder. "Could ya look around and see if anythin' is missin'?" he requests. "We'll help ya clean up in th' meantime."

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"I got some bad news, man," admits Nightrival, "one o' those guys ran off with somethin' from yer garage. But we'll get it back, I promise." He places his hand on Monty's shoulder. "Could ya look around and see if anythin' is missin'?" he requests. "We'll help ya clean up in th' meantime."

Grim looks at Rival like he's nuts as she points at her massive bruise.

"I'm not helping clean up anything; I have a dent in my face the size of New Hampshire!"

She looks between Monty and her mentor and sighs.

"Okay, but no heavy lifting."

She crouches down and starts picking up some papers off the floor, clutching a loose pile of them to her chest.

"Don't worry, Monty; whatever it is, we'll get it back."

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Monty gets up and looks around the garage for anything missing. After a short time of searching through junk, he finally says, "They took the prototype and the plans along with it. If they find someone to make a large scale version of it, then I pray that things don't come this way."

The sound of sirens break the silence of the night and Monty looks at the heroes. "You two better get going now. Don't know how the cops are going to take you two being here when they show up. I'll explain things to them."

Monty begins to slowly begin to clean things up before the cops get there.

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NightrivalHS.jpg

"I'm not helping clean up anything; I have a dent in my face the size of New Hampshire!"

She looks between Monty and her mentor and sighs.

"Okay, but no heavy lifting."

Nightrival shrugs his shoulders. "Heh. Think o' it as a 'wax on, wax off' type o' thing. Builds character."

He leans down and collects scattered papers and mechanical parts from the floor, attempting to find the proper place to store them all.

"They took the prototype and the plans along with it. If they find someone to make a large scale version of it, then I pray that things don't come this way."

He immediately stops cleaning and shakes his head.

"That's wha' I thought. That means we gotta look fer someone who can build just that."

"You two better get going now. Don't know how the cops are going to take you two being here when they show up. I'll explain things to them."

Nightrival's ears pick up the nearby sirens. "Alright. I'll be patrollin' this way for awhile. If thos' guys bother ya again, don't hesitate ta call th' cops." He looks to Grim. "Let's give th' man some space."

Suddenly, he vanishes in a blink.

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Nightrival's ears pick up the nearby sirens. "Alright. I'll be patrollin' this way for awhile. If thos' guys bother ya again, don't hesitate ta call th' cops." He looks to Grim. "Let's give th' man some space."

Suddenly, he vanishes in a blink.

Grim carefully places her stack of papers on the sofa and shakes her head with a grin.

"I hate when he does that; such a showoff."

She picks her way through the mess over to Monty, steps up on tiptoe and gives him a quick peck on the cheek.

"You take care now, and leave the worrying to us."

She smiles and pats him on the arm, and then disappears just as suddenly, though her voice lingers in the air with a hint of laughter.

"Hey, I never said I wasn't a showoff, too."

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Monty smiled and shook his head as Grim's words floated back to him. After a moment, he turned to regard teh mess before him. "Well, there went two fine heroes. Glad they're around!"

The mechanic started to work on cleaning up the mess.

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