Chapter 6 – Anger Rising

"Come on!"

Greg flung himself forward, charging down on his opponent. He ducked a hook to his jaw, blocked an uppercut aimed at his neck, & deftly twisted the other fighter's arm behind his back. He delivered a swift kick to the legs, bringing the opponent to the ground. Greg moved his right leg back, & quickly swung it into a swift, violent kick meant for his opponent's torso. Unfortunately, the kick wasn't delivered quite fast enough, & the other man rolled to the side, causing the kick to miss him by an inch. He jumped back up to his feet, assuming a fighting stance.

Greg stepped back, flexed his neck back & forth, & threw out a series of three quick jabs to the upper torso of his adversary. One was deflected, another was parried by the opponent's upper arm, & the third landed itself the man's right shoulder. Greg moved closer & pulled his arm back for another blow, but had to cancel that plan to parry a swinging left hook from the other man. He caught the wrist of the man's left arm with his right hand, & used the other hand to grip onto the man's bicep. With the man's left arm in his grasp, he stepped slightly to the side & threw the man to the ground behind him.

The man hit the ground hard, landing on his side. Before he could get up, he became aware of Greg's leg flying at him. In the last possible second, he dodged to the right, grabbed Greg's ankle, & pulled it with all his strength. Greg was unable to balance himself quickly enough, & hit the ground next to his opponent.

They both scrambled to get up, the other man reaching his feet slightly before Greg, & delivering a round-house kick towards him. Greg ducked under it, & sent a kick of his own towards the man's thigh. The attack was dodged, as the man spun to the side to avoid it. He grabbed Greg's collar & hurled him towards a nearby wall.

Greg managed to turn his body a slight bit to avoid hitting his back & back of his head on the wall, & instead his left shoulder made impact with the wall. As he collided with the wall, Greg reduced the force of his hard contact with the wall by spinning as he hit, wrenching himself from the man's grasp, & at the same time spreading the intensity of the hit to other areas of his body, except for only his left shoulder. As he came free from the grip of his opponent, he swung his right arm in an uppercut straight at the man.

The man caught Greg's wrist & held it fast, restricting Greg's movement. Greg jabbed his left arm at the man, in an attempt to throw the man off balance & release his arm. The other fighter simply grabbed that wrist as well. With both of Greg's arms in his grasp, the opponent pushed the arms back as hard as possible, heaving him backwards. Greg stopped himself from falling backwards by leaning forward & steadying himself by pressing his hand into the ground in front of him. He stood up & resumed the fighting stance. He & his opponent now stood facing each other, waiting for the next attack.

Then the man eased up, stretching backwards & flexing his back muscles. Greg also went at ease, & rubbed his shoulders, which still ached from his impact with the wall & floor.

"Your skills have largely increased. You almost had me back there. You've learned well, Greg," Jake said, clearly pleased with the way Greg had applied the training that he had received over the last two months.

"You deserve just as much credit, Jake. You've taught me everything I can learn. Thanks to you, I feel like I can now take on any opponent," Greg replied.

"Ah, I see you have increased in confidence as well as in skills. Confidence is good, but be aware of being overconfident. The slightest misstep in a fight could cost you the battle."

"Yes, I'll keep that in mind." Greg was glad for any insight & direction at this point. He needed all the information he needed. Anything that he could learn he would do his best to learn it. He was currently beyond simply trying to accomplish something. If something needed to be done, then it sure as hell would it would be done. He would will himself to do it. No matter what. Jake had truly taught him well.

"Wanna call it a day? We've been training for a while. You deserve a rest," Jake suggested.

"You go on ahead. I'll just stay here for a little while longer. I'll work out a bit."

"You sure you don't need a spotter or anything?"

"I'll be fine. I'll only be here for a little while longer."

"Suit yourself. Just don't push yourself too hard."

"You got it. See you in a while," Greg said as Jake left the training facility. He walked over to the fitness area, & as he did, he started thinking about his life. It had really gone on a major rocket ride since that fateful day that changed it all. He picked up two dumbbells & started going through a series of reps. As he did, flashbacks from his earlier experiences flooded his mind.

His mind drifted to the night he was arrested. He remembered the ominous feeling of the cold metallic pistol barrel on the back of his head, & the sawn-off shotgun pressed against his back. The scene seemed to replay itself in fast-forward in Greg's head as he absentmindedly began to lift the weights up & down with increasing speed. He deeply inhaled & exhaled as he recalled his fight with the bums trying to turn him in. The scene of his experience escaping the cops in the apartment building flowed through his brain. His brow wrinkled into furrows as his muscles bulged while continuing to lift & lower the dumbbells up & down, up & down, up & down, over & over again. His anger was like fuel in an engine, driving & pushing him harder & harder, increasing his capacity for strength, making him lift the weights even faster. He wanted revenge. He needed a way to come even with all the odds that were against him.

He brought down the weights onto the rack with a loud bang, breathing deeply, the sweat flowing off his body from the exertion. He was finished with his workout, & was the last one in the gym. But although he was done, his brow was still furrowed; his muscles were still flexed & his hands were clenched into tight fists. His thirst for revenge had not left. He concluded in his mind that this anger, this desire for vengeance had kept fueling him, even when he didn't know it. That was why he hadn't given up yet, wasn't it? He now fully realized what direction his mind was going. He wouldn't stop until all of the loose ends had been tied up, until all vengeance had been meted out accordingly.

He took a deep breath & exhaled. He tried to calm himself down, to harness the anger burning inside of him. His goal wasn't to get rid of the anger, no; anger can be usefully harnessed as a weapon against the enemy. No he wanted only to control it. He needed to regulate it & use it in maximum capacity against his foes. That was the goal. After it was all even, he could return to normal life.

He walked out, shutting the door behind him. It was nighttime by now, & not a lot of people were still around. He walked to room number 12, unlocking the door with the key in his pocket. He quietly shut & locked the door behind him, got some clean clothes from the cupboard, & headed for the bathroom. He took a long, refreshing shower & changed his clothes. After showering, he lay down on his bed, still thinking about the twists & turns of his life. After awhile, he rolled over onto his stomach, & fell asleep.

Greg didn't usually remember his dreams. When he did, they usually weren't very significant, & generally didn't make sense at all. But then, what is a dream, anyway? To Greg, it seemed like merely a way for his brain to stay alert during his hours of sleep; generally, his thinking was that they had little or no effect on real life.

But this dream was different; it was unlike anything he had ever dreamed before.

He was flying over the sky. He could go anywhere, & see anything. But it was as if his course was set & he had only to watch & see what would become of this bizarre experience.

He flew over the city of Miami; over the busy city streets, through the buildings & trees; he was going very fast, but it was as though his mind was modified to keep up with the movements.

He slowed after awhile, & finally stopped. He looked around. He was on a rooftop of a building. As he looked down, he saw three people down on the street. He squinted, &, as if his eyes were binoculars, they zoomed up on the people below him. Greg was surprised to see himself among them. He could hear that he was having a conversation with two other men. He could hear what they were saying.

"Don't do it, Greg. They'll be onto you immediately," Said a man who Greg recognized to be Chris.

"No. I'm too skilled to be caught like that. I need to do this. They must…pay," Greg saw himself say.

"Wait! It doesn't have to be this way! There are other ways!" Jake, the third man said.

"Leave me alone. I gotta do this & it's gotta be ME. Let me be," The version of himself on the ground insisted.

Greg saw himself drive away in a motorcycle. He realized that he, in the dream, was trying to exact revenge on the police force that arrested him. He yelled to himself to try to stop himself & tell himself to be reasonable, but he was only a spectator, with no effect whatsoever on the events unrolling before his eyes. He saw himself meet some enemies & begin to fight, but eventually he became crowded by enemies, & eventually one of the police fired a bullet at his head. Greg saw the bullet hit himself, blood spurting from his head. He felt a shock course through his body, & began to fall rapidly towards the pavement. As he fell from the sky, he could hear the thoughts of the policemen, mocking his stupidity, & glorifying themselves & their cunning in finally putting an end to his life. He shot downwards & fell onto the ground.

Greg awoke in a cold sweat, the details of the dream still burned in his memory. He looked at the clock on the wall. It was 4:45 in the morning. There was no use trying to go back to sleep, so he lay down with his hands folded behind his head & thought. The dream rolled through his mind. He knew what it was all about. He knew that it meant that overconfidence, mixed with the anger & hate that was a part of his being, would end up being the death of him. He knew he had to control his feelings, & fight smart, or else he would end up in the same condition that he'd seen himself in the dream: dead.

He rolled over, putting his pillow over his head, trying to catch a few more hours of sleep before 6:30, the time that everybody had to wake up. He, however, was totally unable to fall asleep for quite awhile; the dream continued to haunt his mind, tormenting him, causing his peace of mind to flee from him, leaving only confusion in its place. Eventually, he managed to fall asleep.

An hour later, he heard the alarm clock ring, officially calling all members from their beds to begin the day. Greg didn't mind much; he was pretty much wide awake anyway, & wasn't too tired after the short one-hour restless sleep he managed to get in after that dream. The dream was still burned clearly into his memory, like an image onto a metal plate.

There was no escaping it; every time his mind went idle, the images from the dream kept drifting into his mind. It was haunting him, clinging to him; the events he had seen in his dream stayed in his mind. Continually. Without rest.

Chris called him over after breakfast & said, "I think you're ready for some action. You've been trained well, & you've learned well. I'm gonna assign you a mission with your team. You're acquainted well enough with your teammates to work well with them, right?"

"Yes. I'm ready for that. Absolutely."

"Good. Report to Jake. He's got the plan. It'll just be you, Paul, Don, & Jake. Follow directions, & you should do fine." Chris wanted to make sure that Greg understood that he just needed to follow. "It's dangerous out there. You don't need to try to run the show by yourself. Work as a team; you can't do everything by yourself."

"Got it. I'll be on my way now," Greg said. He turned & went to room 12. He had mixed emotions about being assigned his first mission. He was glad for a chance to prove himself, honored that he'd been chosen, but apprehensive about how his performance would be. He knew that he would have to control & properly manage & handle his anger in a way that would be productive. He needed to channel all of his emotions & use them as a weapon against whatever he would need to face.

He reached the room. Upon entering, he saw Jake & Don getting ready already. Jake looked up, saw Greg, & smiled. "So, you ready for your first mission?"

"I hope so. But you've trained me well; I'll trust the skills you've taught me," Greg responded.

"I'm sure you'll do great, man!" Don said.

"Thanks, man," Greg answered. Over the months, he'd established a friendship with Don & Paul, as well as Jake. He trusted all three of his teammates. He felt confident that he'd come out of this without a scratch; he trusted them.

He opened his closet & took out the official Razor Sharp gang jacket. It looked like a regular jacket from the front, but on the back, it bore the gang emblem. It was of two knives crossed, with a flag below them with the words "Razor Sharp". Above the knives was an eagle's head, its wings spread behind the knives. Wearing this, with the other three men wearing the same, it looked like they were the kind that were not to be messed with.

He put on a sturdy pair of Nike running shoes & grabbed his pack from the floor. It was the first time that he would be using it. It contained his P90 SMG, his pistol, a large switchblade, & a few other items not pertaining to weaponry, such as a thermos filled with water, et cetera.

He stood up & walked over to Jake & Don at the door. Jake nodded & said, "Let's do this!" With that, they headed out the door. In the main central room, Paul was already waiting for them. Now fully united as a team, they headed out the door. As they walked through the tunnel, Greg realized that he hadn't been out in the open air since Chris had rescued him, two months prior to this.

"Hey, Greg, you know how to drive a motorcycle, right?" Jake said.

"Well, I learned when I was a teenager, & I drove one for quite some time, until I saved enough to buy a car. But it's been a while."

"Good, because I got something to show you."

He led the group to the garage, where a tons of motorcycles were parked. Jake walked to the back of the garage, in the right corner, & stopped at a gleaming black new-looking motorcycle. He walked it over to Greg.

"This will be your bike. I hope it will be of great use to you. Consider this an official welcome to your fist mission," Jake said, smiling widely.

Greg just stared. Before him was a brand-new Honda CB500F, a sleek, badass-looking sports bike with a powerful liquid -cooled twin parallel engine. It stood there, as if beckoning for a driver.

"How…how did you manage this? Thank you!" Greg spluttered his thanks.

"No problem. The gang pays for it, & we get a lot of money from missions, such as you are about to embark on." Jake dropped a set of keys into Greg's hand. "Here are the keys. Now let's get moving! Our mission involves bringing a certain enemy of one of our contacts to justice."

"What do we have to do?" Asked Paul.

"A certain man by the name of Richard Gold lent some money to our good friend Jed Mill. Greg, he's a man who was many times helped us. We're indebted to him. Anyway, Jed took a bit of time to pay, & Mr. Gold continued to pressure him. Even after the debt was paid, Gold continued to intimidate him, eventually just assaulting him & taking more of Jed's money, for no reason, saying it was interest for the loan that took so long to pay," Jake explained.

"That's bullshit. He didn't need to get all pissed just because Jed took a little while to pay," Don muttered.

"Exactly. Now Jed wants us to get his money back, no matter what the cost. He said it doesn't matter even if we have to kill him. Just recover the money, & Jed's lost honor. You all understand?"

"Got it," Greg & the other men said.

"Great. Now let's go."

They all grabbed a helmet from a large rack. Greg did the same, putting on a large black helmet with a tinted visor to further hide his appearance. He could feel the anger rising again in him. Even if he didn't know Jed Mill, an insult to his gang was an insult to him. He wanted to help his teammates show the world that NOBODY messes with Razor Sharp & gets away with it.

He hopped onto his new motorcycle & sat onto the padded seat. He thrust the key into the ignition & turned it, driving the engine to life. He could feel the power of the twin engines vibrating beneath him. Jake pressed a button on a remote control & the garage door slid open, sunlight flooding in to where the four men were sitting ready on their motorbikes. They moved out & Jake shut & locked the door behind them.

"You ready?" Jake asked.

"Let's get 'em."

The four motorbikes Revved up & shot out from the indentation in the wall where the garage was located. They sped out, Jake in the lead to show them the way. They were ready for anything.

It was time to kick some ass.