Heeeere's another one, because I can't stick to one thing.
The I-Don't-Own anything spiel - i just like to play around with some ideas.
College was difficult, but I'd rather walk across campus in the rain with a 30 pound backpack and be late for class then the alternative.
The alternative being; running across campus, in the rain, with a 30 pound backpack, and never making it to class - because I was running for my life.
Yup. Not to sound dramatic or anything, but I've seen Taken, and this felt like a scene from right out of the movie, except I didn't have a bad-ass dad to come and save me from my potential kidnappers.
Some backstory to this action-packed opener; I had just finished my last class of the day and was headed to my dissertation to study for a math test that was located across campus. Stepping into the grey light of the storm-cloud filled afternoon, I had hurried to make it to the math building before the clouds decided to stop withholding their promise of rain. Right as the first drops started to appear on the pavement, a shadow flickered near the corner of my eye.
Turning my head, I did not slow my pace as I scanned the area. There were some alleys in-between the NYU buildings, but all I could see in the area were a few trash cans half-hidden in shadows of the quickly-darkening sky. Nothing looked suspicious, and there were enough people around that it hadn't even thought to be worried.
'Probably just a cat,' I had thought in passing before putting my head down to shield my eyes from the now-swiftly falling rain.
Socks starting to soak through my shoes, I'd debated if I could risk ditching class and instead head home, knowing that most of the students in my class would be doing just that. As soon as I had made the decision to fast-walk the shortest route to my dorm, another shadow, this one more solid and larger looking, streaked across the corner of my vision again.
Heart starting to pick up a little speed, I had looked again into the alley I was passing, not wanting to see what my gut was telling me was there. I'd reduced my pace enough, not quite a stop, but slow enough to give my eyes and ears a little more time to process the area.
Again, nothing.
With renewed determination to make it out of the quickly-worsening storm, my heart continued to beat harder than normal, especially when I'dd noticed that the few other people who had been within shouting distance were now out of sight, taking shelter in other buildings or already in their cars driving away.
Keeping my eyes downcast to protect them, my ears had been peeled listening for any suspicious sounds, my eyes darting back and forth to try and keep watch within my limited range. Luckily, I'd listened to my gut instead of the mantra of 'I'm fine's' that had been running through my head.
The person - or as it turned out to be persons- had gathered behind me in almost complete silence. But one had made a bad move or footfall, helping in my already-paranoid brain to latch onto the noise that would have been dismissed in any other situation.
I had spun around, one fist up and the other holding onto the can of pepper-spray that was attached to my car keys with a glare on my face and panic in my veins. It took me a second to register what I'd been looking at. Luckily my fight or flight instincts kicked in, or I would have wasted precious time puzzling over the group of strangely dressed men assembled in front of me.
As I turned to run, I headed for the nearest 'panic button' emergency call box. Campus was littered with them for this exact purpose.
'Well, maybe not this exact purpose,' a thought whispered sarcastically as I sprinted with my eyes almost fully closed to keep them shielded from the rain and trying not to slip on the slick concrete, 'I don't think the school ever planned for pajama-clad thugs...'
My attackers- I think there were six -were dressed head-to-toe in black, their faces (what little I could see of them) had on some weird metallic grey mask, and all of them carried a wide variety of weapons. I didn't have a chance to get a good look at said weapons, my brain was screaming danger and I was spinning on my heel before I could test just how inadequate my ten year old yellow-belt-in-karate was when up against steel and numbers.
With my heart pumping sense-enhancing adrenaline, my ears were able to pick up a few shocked exhales from the group behind me, and then the subtle noises of cloth-clad feet running through water puddles in pursuit.
Luckily, I think I'd taken the group by surprise with my spin-and-sprint, gaining those desperately needed extra seconds to reach the call box. The blue light beckoned, giving me something for my feet to pump towards. I could feel more than hear my pursuers gaining ground, but with a surprising burst of speed, I reached out my hand to hit the large button, knowing that I couldn't stop or slow down.
'Whooshing' noises registered in my mind and then a sharp sting, but they were too late. Whatever they had thrown at me had cut the top of my reaching hand, but the adrenaline in my system helped me to ignore the slight injury and instead, slam my now-bleeding hand onto the big blue 'emergency' button as I raced passed it.
My head screamed at me to keep running- I had alerted the police, and I was confident that there were video cameras attached to the box to help them in finding me sooner rather than later, but that didn't mean I was out of immediate danger- so I ran, trying to find the quickest way to a busy street. Luckily, I was in New York, meaning there were busy streets full of people around every corner.
But of course, unlucky me took a corner too soon.
Instead of heading down a side-street into a main street, I had taken an alleyway. It was so cliche, I was ashamed to be a New Yorker. Everyone could tell the difference in daylight and normal circumstances, but in the dark and in panic, even the most seasoned concrete-jungle survivor could make mistakes.
At least that's what I tell myself when the end of the alley comes into focus and my momentum carries me into the wall blocking my escape.
Bouncing off the shoulder that had come up to protect my body, I slam my hands on the brick with a shout of frustration and terror, then turn to face my attackers.
The way they move can only be described as animalistic. They keep to the shadows, advancing slowly, as if sensing my fear and wanting to savor the growing panic that charges the air around me.
But I'm not going down that easy. I don't have the slightest clue as to why I was being chased, but there was no way I was going to go down without a fight. Taking a step away from the unyielding wall, I suck in a breath and scream louder then I have since kindergarten-
"SOMEBODY HELP M-" my plea is cut short as something 'whooshes' through the rain, and this time something like a baseball hits me on the left side just under my ribcage.
I stumble back and collide with the wall behind me, my bleeding hand coming up to cover my side and meeting with something slick with rainwater, foreign, and blunt.
My brain can't register what it is before my attention is drawn up to see that the group of weirdly-dressed men are close enough now that I can see the whites of their eyes. I don't know how I know, but some of them feel blank no emotion emoting from them at all, while others feel giddy, like they know about to get away with murder and would enjoy every second of it. And for all I knew, they were.
I'm breathing sharply through my nose now, dismissing my thoughts as I lean my head as far away from the closest assailant as I can get and meeting the hard brick with the back of my head. He stalks slowly closer, until finally I can smell the foulness of his breath inches away from my face. He looks to be 6' tall, and built like a steroid-injecting quarterback. I can't even pretend to put on a brave face as he towers over me. His eyes are smirking through the slits in his mask as he brings his hand up and places it onto the brick wall next to my head. The others in the group stay a few yards back, watching- but not advancing. He brings more of his weight onto the hand on the wall, leans even further into my personal space, and then inhales deeply.
I shudder when the man closes his eyes in delight, as if actually smelling my terror. He lingers for a moment, and just when I see his eyes start to open, my ears pick up another 'whoosh', and then a 'thud' as the strangest-looking knife I have ever seen sinks its way into the wall next to my head, and directly into the hand laying there.
I flinch at the close proximity of the knife, vaguely glad that someone either has terrible, or very impressive aim.
Even with a knife in his hand, it takes a few seconds for the man in front of me to register this new development, and for me to realise that this wasn't something thrown by one of the men behind the creep now stuck to the wall. The man's eyes drift from my face to his hand, before letting out a terrifying bellow of rage behind his mask, signaling all hell to break loose.
I try and sink down and away from the man in front of me, but he registers the movement and uses his unstuck hand to back-slap me across my temple. I see stars, and my vision turns hazy as I stagger from the powerful blow, but by some miracle I stay standing. I trip over to the side of the alley, placing a hand on the wall to keep me steady and provide something solid as the world tries to straighten itself back from tipping on its side.
Vaguely, I hear the unmistakable sounds of a struggle and look up in time to see some of my attackers sailing through the air to land with a tremendous 'BANG' into one of the open dumpsters across from me. I have enough sense to be impressed, but not enough to dwell on the scene as huge black shadows move in and out of the rain, leaving my pursuers laying on the floor in their wake.
I'm so entranced by these gracefully powerful beings that I don't see Creeper until it's almost too late. The knife that had been keeping him pinned to the wall now grasped in his uninjured hand, I see his arm raise and then plunge down toward me out of the corner of my eye. I gasp and turn my back to him, trying to protect my front from his attack, but knowing it's frutial. I wait for the blow, and flinch when I hear a tortured scream instead.
Slowly turning my head to look over my shoulder, through the rain and the shadows I see my would-be attacker clutching a stump of bleeding flesh where his arm used to be.
I turn fully and watch in shock as the man falls to his knees, moaning in agony, then seeing a large, definitely non-human hand, reach out with the end of something, and swiftly clubs Creeper in the back of the head. His body goes limp, and (almost comically) falls unconscious next to his recently-decapitated arm with a muffled 'thump'.
All is quiet except for the sound of my breathing and the rain against the pavement. I can see the outline of my saviors in front of me, but my vision is still fading in-and-out that I can't quite see who they are. I can tell they are enormous, and that they look to be carrying some heavy-duty equipment, but I can't make out details. The silence is broken by one of the shadows breaking away from the others and inching its way closer.
The shadow speaks.
"Nasty Leo. I don't think I've ever seen you cut someone's arm off before," says a deep, gruff voice.
Again, in the partial light of the moon, I see a three-fingered green hand emerge to pick up the knife from my former-attackers detached arm. He wipes the grime off on the arm's sleeve, and then straightens back into the shadows.
There's a silence as I feel cautious eyes watching me. I decide to break it, to try and express my gratitude to my saviors before they disappear- I have a suspicion that they don't stay in one place for too long- but before I can the pain in my side registers so unexpectedly that I let out a gasp and unconsciously use the wall to steady myself, but a moment later feel my butt hit the ground hard.
My left hand comes up to cover my side that had been hit earlier, and what I first mistake as rainwater I sluggishly realize is something warmer. I have an idea what it might be, but my lungs are having a harder time taking in oxygen than they usually do, and I can't seem to form coherent thoughts. That, or I'm going into shock.
I feel warm fingers on my cheek and a voice tells me to open my eyes. When did I close them? I can't remember. But I listen to the voice and force my eyes to reopen, focusing on the figure before me.
It's strange how within the past few minutes I've had two different men invading my personal space, and yet one of them elicited fear and the other brings peace. Two very different emotions for two very different men. This one is large, larger than the other, and yet seems like he can take off in any direction without the slightest sound. He's also green and bald, but for some reason that doesn't seem to register like it would under normal circumstances.
His electric blue eyes are studying mine, and I forget all about the green and the bald and the three fingers still touching my cheek. The blue strip of cloth surrounding them only enhances how beautiful they are as they hold my gaze, and all I feel is peace and security in that moment. Either that, or I've hit my head too many times tonight for it to be severely impairing my judgement.
He's gone almost as soon as I opened my eyes, another figure pushing the blue-eyed one out of the way. He's also as large and green, but is wearing all sorts of flashing tech and seems to have the energy of a hummingbird - constantly fidgeting and checking, then rechecking and adjusting. He seems worried though, his eyes magnified by the glasses perched on his nose making it easier to read the worry in them.
I'm aware of him scanning me with something that looks like a futuristic watch, then gently moving the hand covering my side and letting out a hiss of breath, saying something to the other shapes around him. I hear urgency in his tone, and also vaguely the sound of vehicles approaching. The vehicles don't have sirens though, so I'm confused as to why they are here.
The other figures hear them too, and seem to freeze in place for a moment as they decide if the new arrivals are friend or foe. I think they settle on 'foe'.
I let out a gasp as the one with glasses injects my side with something, and then presses some sort of cloth around the object still embedded in my side. It's almost instantly soaked through by rain and warm liquid.
The Blue-Eyed one is back, and lifting me up from off the ground, one arm under my knees and the other cradling my back. I've never been carried like this before, but he makes it seem as though it's almost effortless. My head falls against something hard and unyielding, but it's warm to the touch and smooth against my cheek.
There's a moment of shifting and tense muscles, then the sensation of falling. I gasp and try and make sense of the immediate relief from the rain and almost pitch-blackness that now surrounds me. I can't tell if my eyes are closed or not, but it's getting harder to care about such silly details. I feel myself drifting, but I want to convey my gratitude. I know they won't hurt me, and even though this feels like a drug-induced dream, I like the security I feel in the arms of my rescuers, I want to tell him that.
My free hand is my sticky one, but I move it to touch the man's chest-protection, hoping he can feel the pressure there. His pace (one that is very fast now that I realize) never wavers, but I feel his attention on my hand against his chest. I look up to where I hope his eyes are and catch a flash of blue through the darkness.
"Thank you," I manage to whisper, "thank you... thank you, thank-" I can only repeat the phrase. Nothing else comes out and I'm too exhausted to try. Blue-Eyes doesn't say anything, but his pace impossibly seems to quicken and his hand briefly squeezes the shoulder he's supporting.
Soon it's too much for me to resist the pull to drift into oblivion, and though I hear the vibrations of Blue-Eyes talking through his chest-protection, I can't make out what it is he's saying, and soon the vibration helps me fall into the waiting darkness that much faster. I do not worry though. There is too much goodness in the eyes that are watching over me to worry.