1st August 2009
I've started to plan more recently. I've been lazy of late. I've not taken due care when it comes to guarding my identity. I've been so wrapped up in seeking revenge and hunting down those mutant gangs that i've let far too many things slide. I've been operating on some gut level instinct whilst on patrol instead of relying on training and preparation.
I realised this recently and as a consequence, i've began to plan things out meticulously. Patrols, routes, times, even things to say while on a night out. I now have plans and contingency back-ups for a multitude of conceivable scenarios. Many of which are unlikely to ever transpire. But I am aware that there are so many more ways that I could be optimising my efficiency.
I spend hours planning and strategising, but sometimes it all just goes to ****. I was...
I was patrolling in the city centre of all places. Like i've said before, I dislike patrolling in the city centre because there are usually so many police (and people in general) that I find it difficult to operate effectively. Not to mention the plethora of CCTV cameras which cover the inner city as a whole.
There is one area of the city centre which isn't adequately protected though - and thats the Odyssey arena on the other side of the River Lagan. Its an event and entertainment venue, the Belfast equivalent of Madison Square Garden and there are numerous pubs and clubs. Not a week goes by where something of some consequence happens there, so lately i've taken to adding it to my sweep of east Belfast.
I had my birthday party to attend and had spent the day alone with my thoughts. I'd done a bit of shopping in town and actually done some writing in a Clements coffee shop on Donegal Square West. I'd meandered about for a bit, lost in a world of thought and pre-meditation. I'd gone home, changed, and headed out early on patrol with the intention of making a late appearance at my party by about half eleven. The party was to be held in Roost Bar, a venue in the city centre about 10 minutes from my apartment. I'd planned to go home and change into my costume ('Viper' from Top Gun) and head round. Truth be told, I didn't really want to go and had in fact half considered just not going. Funny how things work out.
It was about quarter past eleven and the Odyssey Arena was a ghosttown. Granted, there were a lot of people about, but in terms of anything requiring a Man In Black intervention... there was nothing. Its strange. Although I recognise that the area needs to be patrolled, I don't like going there as there's not really anywhere I can lie low inconspicuously the way I can in other parts of town. I made a few sweeps of the area - nothing too overt, and off the relative inactivity of the area, decided to leave early so that I could make the party in good time. For a brief second I entertained the notion of showing up in uniform as the Man In Black but just as quickly dismissed the idea as idiocy. Not to mention pure egoism. Funny how things work out.
There's a small, narrow footbridge that spans the River Lagan, connecting Mays Meadow (the area of land that the Odyssey is on) to the rest of the city centre. I didn't even think twice about crossing it, even though people have been attacked on it before. Another sign of how lax i've become lately in my thinking.
I was about halfway across, directly above the large concrete moat waterbreak when I saw three hooded figures walk on from the opposite side of the bridge. Straight away I knew it was a trap, and I swore silently at myself for being so careless.
The footbridge comprises part of the Lagan Weir to control flooding and river levels. There are access points and maintenance bunkers at regular intervals. These bunkers sit below the bridge level and are access by steel ladders. As I turned to go back the way i'd come, I heard the clang of heavy boots on metal and saw groups of more hooded figures clambering up the access ldders to block the bridge. I turned again and saw that in addition to the original three mutant kids, there were now a dozen, perhaps more. Some were carrying weapons - brandishing clubs and knives, evil sets of eyes glittered malevolently.
I noted with growing dismay that my protege, the one i'd 'taken under my wing' so to speak was amongst them. I tried to catch his eye, but he looked at me blankly, looking through me, refusing to even acknowledge that he knew me. I looked over the side, intending to jump into the water, then remembered what the mutant kids would undoubtedly already have known - I was directly above a 50ft drop... on to the bottom of a concreete moat. They'd sprung their trap at the perfect moment.
I thought briefly of the bridge scene in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom and just as quickly pushed the foreign thought away, I couldn't affored to be distracted, not if I were to survive. The gangs were approaching steadily. Not hurrying. They were taking their time, safe in the knowledge that I was completely trapped.
I set my jaw, and started to hop lightly up and down, readying every single muscle in my body. Its a great technique i've learned to get yourself ready for action straight away called 'state alteration.' You can alter your mental state to fit any scenario if you know how. And the technique is surpriingly easy. Next time you find yourself in a mental state of mind where things feel amazing and you want to be able to recapture these feelings and emotions again, you allow yourself to fully experience everything. Feel your breath coursing through your body. Feel the blood pumping around your veins and arteries. Every sound, everything you see all ads to this perfect mental state. Everytime I get into a fight or experience a strong adrenaline rush, i've tried to truly feel, truly be aware of my state of mind. You try and capture this mental state, you allow yourself to feel and experience everything about it, to hear, feel, see, touch and taste the emotion. And when the feeling is ats most palpable, you lock it with a trigger action, or word, or gesture. Some people click their fingers, others dance around in their room. Me? I hop up and down. At least when readying myself for a fight. Other situations have different trigger actions.
I hopped up and down, psyching myself up. I've been planning for scenarios and situations. Some of which will most likely never occur. This situation however, I had planned for. A very simple plan - punch, kick and fight my way out of this.
The bridge was very narrow, perhaps only 3 or 4 feet wide. On the positive, this meant that they could only take me on one or perhaps two at a time. On the negative side, it meant that I would have a longer, more drawn out struggle ahead of me. I would have to fight my way through a crowd on about 15 people in front of me whilst simultaneously defending myself from attacks to the rear.
Its funny the thoughts that go through your mind at times like this. First one unbidden thought of Indiana Jones, now I thought of the scene in Lord of the Rings wheer Aragorn tells Frodo to 'Go. Run Run.' He turns and walks calmly, strolls, in fact towards the approaching horde of Uruk-Hai. I thought of that and grinned, despite myself. My grin grew wider as the first mutant kids stopped hesitantly, fearfully. I stopped hopping and dropped to a ready stance. Ambient sound dulled as my heart began to race, my veins and arteries pumping. My ears were full of a distant roaring and with growing clarity of thought I realised I was hearing my blood pump through my body. This was it, my Berserker attack. I threw a yell of primal rage, fury and anger and charged the first kid.
He threw a weak punch which had no chance of landing, and doubtless I wouldn't have felt it if it had. I sidestepped to the right and spun, elbowing the back of his head while simultaneously snap-kicking the next mutant kid in the face. I pinwheeled round, ready to take on the next in line and came face to face with my protege. For a moment we just looked at each other impassively. "I told you people were starting to hate you again" he said. Then he smirked, yet not maliciously - more conspiratorial - and lowered his voice "But I haven't. And I haven't forgotten what you taught me."
Off my look of complete surprise, he whirled abruptly and viciously pushed one of his compatriots off the bridge into the water. There was a short scream as the mutant kid fell which was cut short by a splash. For a second, no-one moved. Holy s**t.
I laughed out loud, amazed and turned to face the group of mutant kids to the rear. They looked just as amazed at this turn of events, but quickly recovered. I didn't hesitate, didn't pause. I sailed into them, beating on them, blocking punches and 2 by 4's and knife stabs, all the while moving slowly backwards as my new sidekick forged a path forward. The clamour of noise gew as everyone was yelling, screaming and shouting, including me and my sidekick.
You always see in team-up movies and comics how at this moment the two who team up always have a few quips and snappy one liners, but in reality its a bit different. Fact is, we were too busy trying to stay alive to waste our time and breath on talk. A blur of punches, knives and clubs rained down on me, on both of us and although I could feel them, although I was being subject to the worst pummelling of my life, I was so pumped with adrenaline and indeed a mounting sense of glee at being joined by my new helper that I was able to ignore them all. I can take punches and kicks to the body no problem, i'm used to them by now, and i've reinforced my uniform in most vulnerable spots, but i'm still having difficulty becoming invulnerable to knife attacks.
I was slowly but surely taking a lot of damage. We both were, and I was dimly aware of my blood dripping on the wooden gangway bridge. Knives, punches and clubs, we were being attacked from every conceivable angle... but we were making progress. Slowly but surely, inch by violent inch we were approaching the end of the bridge. I felt the wound in my chest rip open, the stitches pulled from the skin and I began bleeding profusely. The trickles of blood became rivers, the tracks becoming wider and wider, smeared over the bridge and handrails. I started kicking and punching blindly, viciously, not holding anything back, and I could see that some of the mutant kids were approaching me more warily.
Louder than the continuous throb of noise from the attacking crowds, I heard a muffled cry behind me and turned, expecting the worst, but saw that my sidekick (who had held his own incredibly well but was losing as much blood as me, if not more) had reached the end of the bridge, and had kicked - King Leonidas style - the mutant kids down the entrance ramp. They collapsed in a heap like dominoes and we jumped over them, using their prone bodies as makeshift stepping boards. We had gotten to the end, and were still alive. Barely.
We were both panting heavily, our breathing laboured, and I felt (and heard) the faint gurgle of a punctured lung. I coughed and sprayed blood on the ground. My sidekick slumped and fell against me. It was an effort to move, but as I looked up towards the bridge, the mutant kids were regrouping, charging down the ramp, a baying mob of muted cries and yells.
I grabbed my sidekick and we started to run. My chest was agony, I was having difficulty breathing but we accelerated to a full sprint and made towards High Street and the Victoria Square area. The rasping was growing... I was going to need medical treatment soon. And not my usual brand of self-administered bandaging, but proper medical care. We ran blindly, being pursued past gawping groups of onlookers, club-goers, pedestrians and tourists. All wearing the same horrified expression. The groups jumped out of the way, shocked looks and bemused expressions as we sprinted past.
Running blindly, not really focussing on any one thing, I nevertheless recognised a building and we veered towards it, operating on pure survival instinct. We ran down an alley to the side, and scaled the fire escape steps onto the roof. I looked back, hoping; but we were still being pursued. I took a brief second of respite to ask my sidekick how he was, he replied by giving me the finger and a withering look. He was still able to force a laugh though.
"We should split up." My voice croaked, my lips flaked with specks of blood. "They only want me." He shook his head weakly, tried to get to his feet but fell before he got halfway. I nodded my head "Yes." Then, without giving him a chance to respond, I hopped up in full view, jumped across to an adjacent rooftop and started to sprint across, leaping over and weaving around and between external A/C units and other plant. I could hear the mutant kids behind me, gaining on me and I made for a gap between two buildings which seemed familiar and was a handful of strides away when they caught me.
A hissed whisper "Where's the other one?"
And the reply "F**k him. We've got the Man In Black." Punch. Kick. Punch. Stab. Kick. I was spent. I couldn't even muster up the energy to defend myself. I blearily looked at the blood falling from the ends of my fingers, dripping to the gravelled rooftop. I stared at the blood, transfixed. I was a human rag doll being swung around, punished brutally and mercilessly. Here lies the Man In Black. Killed by a bunch of twelve year olds. I started briefly at the image of that epitaph, sheering away from the possibility and began to fight back weakly. I lunged up at the nearest mutant kids, grabbing for his face. I swung blindly, wildly, desperately; flinging my arms and clenched fists as though they were demolition balls. One blind haymaker took me off balance, and one of the mutant kids, seizing the opportunity, slammed my face with a massive punch. I careened wildly over the edge of the building, arms wheeling comically and I went over into the alleyway.
I wondered if I would die on impact or if I would just bleed out into oblivion, when I slammed into the steel steps of the fire escape. I had only fallen a few feet, but as I landed on the steps, I rolled down awkwardly, head over tail, banging my shoulders against the ground, my head slamming off the wall and steel railings. I smashed through the fire escape door and carried on rolling down the internal concrete steps. I felt my left arm snap on one of the impacts and as I tried to stop my wild tumbling, I saw the mutant kids still, still giving chase. I landed awkwardly on my left leg and kicked off, propelling myself down the steps even quicker.
After what seemed an eternity of falling and wheeling, I slammed through another door and finally came to a stop, lying sprawled out on the ground. No, not ground. A dancefloor. I realised that my wild fall and tumble had taken me through the maintenance door of a busy nightclub. Music was blaring and strobe lights captured the soundless, horrified expressions of the gathering crowd around me.
Sprawled out on the floor, face down, I tried to get to my feet and collapsed again, blood pooling beneath my chest. I coughed weakly, blood spattering beside my face. I gazed at the ceramic tile of the floor, not really able to move, think or do anything. I struggled again weakly, somehow getting as far as my knees. The music stopped, and I heard the growing murmur of speculation, hushed whispers and gossip. Amidst the mutterings, someone said my name loudly and clearly. I sagged over, falling on all fours and hacked laboriously. Someone shouted my name again, "My god! Martin!" I looked up blankly, unfocussed, my eyes washing over the crowd. Strong arms grabbed me by the elbow, and pulled me up slightly, letting me rest against them. Amongst the sea of strange faces and unknown, random clubbers, I saw my family and friends staring. Transfixed. Amazed.
I'd ended up at the party after all. I was in Roost Bar.
Funny how things work out.