THE CHARIOT

Timothy D. Tucker

Chapter 1: The Test

I had always wondered if my martial arts training would work in an actual fight.

New York City, nestled deep in the heart of The Big Apple was a modest Shorin-ryu dojo. Skilled warriors from around the country battled inside of these hallowed walls, rigorously testing the ancient art of Karate. All except for one man...

I trained in school for years.

The dimly lit interior of the room was alive with the constant motions of combat. Sweat flowed freely from their white Karategi, and the air buzzed with the familiar feeling of intensity, aggression, and discipline. One young man did not partake in these activities however. He sat crossed leg along the wall, his back pressed against the mural of Sokon Matsumura. A black and yellow hood obscured his face, but he could see all before him.

I was the best in my class.

He watched as his peers performed the robotic movements of the Katas, their movements being wasted in the flowery motions of the watered down art. Pre-determined forms and choreographed gestures diluting the Arts true purpose: to kill.

But we were never allowed to hurt each other...REALLY hurt each other.

Several of the students were participating in sparring. Their ragged breathing and intense eyes only gave the illusion of combat, as they were heavily clad in protective gear and used light contact. The punches and kicks that were originally intended to break a mans body has been degraded to "points."

How did I know that this attack would break a bone? Rupture an organ?

The young man stood up from his spot on the floor and stretched, the cobra design on the back of his hoodie visible in the shadowy light. He moved to the front entrance, stalking past the would be "martial artist" and fighters.

I prowled the back alleys of New York in search of an opportunity to put my skills to the test. I needed to know what kombat really was...

"HEY!!"

The young man stopped dead in his tracks at the sound of the voice. All around him the activities of the others ceased and focused their attention on him.

"Just where do you think you're going!?"

The young man turned around and faced his questioner. He kept his head low, the hood obscuring his eyes as he gazed at the mans flushed, sweaty face.

"I'm leaving..." The young man said.

"Wait a minute, aren't you that kid Kobra?"

The young man, Kobra, shifted on his feet. "That's what every-one calls me."

The fighter clapped his hands together, seemingly mocking Kobra. "Well, looks like we got a star in the house! What's the matter? Too good to spar with us?"

A thin smile spread across Kobra's lips. "Actually, that's exactly it. I'm WAY too good to spar with you guys."

There was little to no disagreement amongst the other students, because even they knew it was true. The young man known as Kobra, every bit as deadly as his moniker.

The other fighter laughed, indifferent to Kobra's legendary status in the dojo. "Well, you've never sparred me before..."

Kobra narrowed his eyes, sizing up the other fighter for anything telling. He was bigger that Kobra, and during his sparring sessions had displayed superb technique, but none of that even mattered when there was a fist being smashed right into your face.

"That sounds like a challenge to me." Said Kobra, removing the hood from his face. His full length blond hair cascaded around the back of his neck as he tore the hooded sweat-shirt off of his body. The other fighter looked on incredulously as Kobra adjusted his hand wraps.

"Kid, do you know who I am!? I'm Percy Gunner! Two time Regional Shorin-ryu champion! I stunt doubled for Johnny freaking Cage! You think you can take me on!?"

Kobra wasn't listening as he was busy stretching out his legs, carefully making sure he was loose to freely move during combat.

"Ok kid. We go full contact. Shorin-ryu tourney rules, punches and kicks allowed to the head, no grappling, deal?" Kobra could detect a hint of unease in Gunner's voice, which would make the work all the more easier.

"No deal. Full contact, no holds barred, anything goes. Fight stops when I feel like stopping it."

Gunner scoffed at the younger Kobra. "You got a death wish kid!? Ok, Ok, let's go! But I got to warn you, I won't hold back!!"

Gunner dashed towards Kobra, who was still busy warming up. Kobra saw the gloved fist coming from a mile away as he side-stepped the incoming attack. Kobra was in his opponents blind spot, free to exact swift and painful punishment from his superior position...

"THOOOOOFFFFF!!!!!"

Kobra struck. His bare knuckles connected with the groin of Gunner, felling the two time Shorin-ryu champion in a single blow. Gunner landed on his hands and knees, desperately gasping for breath and clutching his aching crotch.

All around, the other students buzzed with excited chatter at the spectacle. There was no honor, no respect, no prize, and no consequences. Just a winner and a loser.

"Maybe you need to stop watching so many Johnny Cage films..." Kobra said, picking his hoodie off of the hard-wood floor. Gunner squealed in response, still reeling from the devastating blow. The other Shorin-ryu students hastily spread apart to make way for Kobra.

Kobra pushed the doors of the dojo open, and ventured out into the night of New York City...