Rotted Roots — Part 5: Blood and Bruises
2324 Walker Place was built as a housing project for underprivileged families looking for low-income housing. It was championed by the city but fell apart when the building quickly became a den of drugs and gang violence. It was later bought by Atrium Real Estate to be built into deluxe condominiums for well-to-do millennials. But when Maxwell Ryder revealed it to be front for an illegal underground drug lab, the project was shut down. It had sat in mid-constructed ruin for seven months, empty and alone. Until tonight.
Ryder kicked two agents through an open doorway and into the stairwell. His knuckles were already scraped raw. Grabbing an agent who had run up behind him, Ryder spun him around and tossed him down the stairs, watching as he crashed into his compatriots below him.
Fighting had gotten harder for Ryder as his body aged. He had been trained in several forms of martial arts when he was a child in an effort by his parents to develop him into a “renaissance man” before taking control of Ryder Industries. While he could still fight well, his days of effortlessly leaping across a room and moving his hands with imperceptible speed had passed. Now he relied on forward momentum and weapons to hold an advantage over his opponents.
“The stairs!” rasped Ellis as he led the remaining three agents down the hallway towards him. Ryder, spying a discarded toolbox by the doorway, seized several dusty tools and hurled them, one by one, at the oncoming agents. A pair of pliers collided with one of their foreheads. A wrench released a hollow snap from the chest of another. Two fell. The others continued.
Ryder heard the agents in the stairwell climbing back up towards him. Without thinking, he grabbed the toolbox and dashed into the stairwell. He threw it into the chest of the lead agent and leaped forward, smashing his elbow into a temple and riding their momentum to break his fall. More of their bones snapped. Before they could get up Ryder knocked the other two out forcefully. Several teeth clattered against the wall. He felt his knuckles split open even further.
An echoing thunder exploded into the stairs as Ellis and the only other standing agent hurdled down towards Ryder. He grabbed a hammer and swung it. Both dodged. Ryder fought hard against them. They still outnumbered him. They cornered him and rained blow after blow against his body.
Stars were returning to his field of vision. His head throbbed. His bones felt like powdered brittle inside his skin. He was tired — always tired. He began to felt his knees buckle and his eyes cloud over once more.
That’s when the Chronos kicked in.
The world slowed. The fists that collided against his body began to relent. Ryder took a deep breath. He hated his life at this moment. Without having the Chronos still burrowed into his body, he would have been done for. Being an addict had, for once, saved him.
Seizing on the opportunity, he turned and grabbed the unnamed agent by both ears. He could feel himself coming back to reality. Before he did so, however, he jammed his heel into Ellis’ groin and slammed the agent’s head into the concrete wall. Once he was back in the world, everyone was down. Ryder stepped over the bodies and left the stairwell.
A cold wind blew through the floor from the gaping holes where windows were meant to go. Bundles of wood were stacked against the wall. Mounds of powdered concrete were slumped by a wheelbarrow. Ryder collapsed to his knees. He felt faint. It hurt to breathe. He could feel his left eye starting to swell shut.
“Not bad, for an old guy,” a raspy voice spat. As Ryder turned his head a foot collided with his spine and knocked him on his stomach. Ryder crawled along the dusty floor. Kicks still punctuated his side. Ryder rolled quickly, sending his world spinning, and got to his feet. Ellis was still standing. He removed his jacket and flexed his hands underneath the gloves.
Both men continued their fight. Ryder got in close for body jabs and thrown elbows. Ellis moved quickly, utilizing the kinds of basic moves that Ryder could have easily blocked had he not been an old man. With one leaping kick to his chest, Ryder was down once more. Ellis straddled him against the wood and continued to punch Ryder in the face.
“How’s all that drunken boxing working for you now?” More punches to the face.
“Better than your grappling,” grunted Ryder. He spat a wad of bloody saliva into Ellis’ eyes. While he was distracted, Ryder grabbed a two-by-four from the pile and bashed his ear. While he was disoriented, Ryder shoved him to his feet. Unrelentingly, Ryder landed punch after punch on Ellis, mixing in attacks with the board in his hand to ensure Ellis stayed disoriented. They moved towards down the hall. Without relenting, Ryder continued through the protests of his muscles. He let out one final, guttural scream, punched Ellis in the nose, and sent him tumbling through the open window and down two stories. He landed splayed on his back on a parked car.
Ryder looked down on his victim. He panted heavily and leaned against the edge of the window. Someone was clapping from below him.
“I’m impressed,” called Servaes. “Seven of them and one of you? I didn’t think you had it in you to take them all down. Granted, they’re Nationals, but still…impressive.”
Ryder gurgled out a chuckle. “That’s why they didn’t have any guns, isn’t it?” He looked down at Servaes, leaning against the very car Ellis had crashed onto. “You going to send in anyone else, now that I’m all worn down? Finish the job?”
“No. At least, not tonight. I figure you’re resourceful enough that you’ll just break them all too.”
“What now then? You’re just letting me go?”
“Check your mailbox. You’ll find a ticket for the upcoming Desert Knights game in two days. Seat DD 27, lower level. Meet me there and we’ll talk.”
“Who’s to say I won’t just high-tail it out of the city?”
“Mister Ryder, if you tried to leave, we’d know.” Servaes walked to the hood and dragged Ellis off his car. “Besides, I have to look into this mysterious silver-toothed figure you said came to see you. I’m sure you’ll want to know if I found anything.” Tossing Ellis into the passenger’s side, Servaes got into the car and drove off.
Ryder slowly slid to the ground. A neon light from across the road cast an underwater blue hue. His hand shook as he gingerly touched his face to feel for any broken bones. He seemed to be intact despite all the blood he was covered in and the purple bruises already forming on his body. His suit was ruined.
Two days. That’s how long he had to find something. Ryder knew where he had to go. No point in ducking the obvious.
It was time to talk to his brother and sister.
TO BE CONTINUED NEXT WEEK…
Part 2: https://medium.com/the-assortment/rotted-roots-part-2-a-meeting-is-set-1c879ad163ee#.m5ejkesx1
Part 3: https://medium.com/the-assortment/rotted-roots-part-3-contact-is-lost-3a684d5ce7c9#.ooxxuts1f
