Attack of The Suit
Matthew Ryan Fischer
What was the suit made out of, The Kid wondered to himself. When he
punched the jacket, the man in the suit acted like he didn’t feel a thing, and
The Kid thought he just about broke his hand. Whatever the fabric was, it was
dense and tough as nails. Once upon a time, The Cowboy had told him if he ever
tussled with a Suit, that The Kid should aim for the head. The Cowboy wasn’t
kidding, but The Kid was all out of ammo.
The Kid had tracked down The Tuxedos, and had followed them for
days. He had heard there were four, but so far, he had only seen three. Perhaps
the other was late. Perhaps their mission had changed. The Kid considered
killing the ones he had found and worrying about their brother later. Three-fourths
of a job well done was better than zero. The Cowboy had always said he was
impatient and told him to do the job right. The Kid considered The Cowboy’s
final words, and so he waited. The fourth would show up soon or later.
But then The Suit showed up first. The Kid had never learned what
The Suit’s agenda was. He didn’t think they were Tuxedo co-conspirators, but allegiances
were changing so rapidly these days, one could never be sure.
The Kid always fancied himself a top fighter, on par with anyone
they had come up against. Tonight, he felt like an amateur. The Kid should have
gotten help. He had been impatient. He wished The Swordsman was here. The
Swordsman would cut this guy’s head clean off and it wouldn’t matter how strong
the suit was.
The Kid struggled for his life and ended up pushing The Suit back
against the window.
The glass cracked. Another strong push and it shattered. The Suit fell.
The Kid looked out, watched as The Suit hit the ground. A fall
that would shatter any man’s bones. The Kid watched as The Suit slowly got up
and shook himself off.
“What the fu---”
What is that suit made out of?
Run. A different voice in the back of his
head instructed him. Run!
The Kid ran.
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