Glad to know you guys still like this story. Thanks for your feedback.
Back to Steve now.
The laptop screen went dark and Steve felt the world tilt beneath him. His vision blurred, the edges darkening like storm clouds gathering. The pain previously present was now partially clouded by a whole different kind of suffering.
He might have collapsed, succumbing to the shock, grief, and anger, had he not noticed Makoni's armed men closing in on him before his behavior got out of hand. Luckily, reflexes honed by years of training kicked in, the Navy SEAL mantra echoing in his mind.
Never out of the fight.
It was now or never. Fight or flight. He'd never choose the latter.
Adrenaline flooded his system, allowing him to push through the pain and weakness. To prepare for what was likely about to happen.
So when the taller one swung his weapon at Steve's back in an attempt to regain control, Steve sidestepped with precision, turning to face his attacker. He unleashed a vicious knee strike and gave all into the kick. It found its mark–square in the groin. A guttural grunt escaped the man, who doubled over in pain. Seizing the opportunity, Steve quickly delivered another kick. This time, into the bridge of the man's nose.
The crack of breaking bone echoed in the confined space, and blood sprayed from the man's nose. Instantly, he dropped his rifle, hands flying to his injured face.
A broken nose–crippling even for the most seasoned fighter. For a few seconds after that, it didn't matter if the man was a tier-one soldier or a common civilian. Because his septum would swell, his face would puff up and involuntary tears would make his eyes water. Not to mention the disorientation and pain. Steve had broken his nose a few times in the field. It never gets easier. One would never get used to it.
Steve threw his body into his assailant's, pushing him backward with as much force as he could manage until the man's head smashed into the metal wall. Which put him damn near unconsciousness and rendered him completely useless at least for the next few minutes.
It all only took seconds.
But by then the second man closed the distance. He didn't have time to react. A swift jab connected with Steve's jaw, followed by another. His head snapped sideways, and the world blurred. Before Steve could react, a kick came his way. He tried to avoid it, but he was compromised. His reflexes weren't fast enough. The boot connected with his stomach. Hard. Unable to stop the impact, Steve crashed onto the metal floor just outside the container with a resounding thud. He couldn't suppress the painful groan.
The man raised his rifle.
In the relentless dance of combat, Steve knew his chances were dwindling. Yet, his warrior spirit refused to surrender. Going down without a fight simply wasn't in his DNA. With a quick maneuver, he looped his legs around the man's and tugged hard, sending him sprawling backward.
As both men scrambled to their feet, Steve scanned his surroundings with his eyes squinted against the bright sunlight. The ship was motionless. Not even that far from the shore. He checked for a possible weapon. He didn't see any, but his eyes caught a glimpse of a sharp metal edge near the mast. He rushed toward it, knowing that using it to cut the zip ties and get his hands free was the only way to improve his odds in the fight.
The second man raised his weapon again.
Steve noticed, and changed direction mid-movement. He threw himself on the floor, making himself a smaller target. The metallic symphony of bullets whizzed by, dangerously close. If Steve had dodged milliseconds later, he'd have been riddled with holes now.
But it wasn't over yet. He began pushing himself upright when a vicious kick to his liver came from nowhere.
The sheer intensity of the pain he felt nearly shut his body down, killing all of his remaining ability to defend himself. He sunk to his knees with a slack-jawed expression on his face. Looked up.
Makoni stood there and glared down at him with fire in his eyes and his pistol pointed at him.
"That's enough!" he growled.
Steve knew he was done. He was literally incapable of moving as his seizing liver turned his limbs to stone.
Makoni's hired goons, their faces wrinkled with fury, pulled him up roughly by his bound arms and dragged him back inside. Just seconds after barely even making it out of his metal prison, they manhandled him through the open doorway, then stepped aside, fuming.
Makoni gripped Steve by the back of the neck and hurled him onto his knees.
He let his shoulders roll forward, dejected. He had no weapon. No energy. His entire body throbbed with the culmination of his ordeal in the last two days. He hadn't been expecting success when he decided to fight. In fact, he had been mentally preparing himself for his own death. Still, the fact he would die like this crushed his morale. He'd much rather die in combat than on his knees, battered and defeated. And it wouldn't be any faceless man to execute him.
It would be Roko Makoni.
The man whom he wished nothing but death upon.
Makoni towered above him, aiming a pistol at his head. He quickly glanced at his hired men with rabid eyes, crazed by the damage Steve managed to deal in mere seconds even though bound and hurt. Then his gaze fixed on Steve. He smiled, satisfied he had the upper hand.
"Did you really think you could make it?" he sneered.
Gritting his teeth, Steve refused to grant Makoni the satisfaction of a response. He knew silence held more power than words in moments like this.
"I guess you didn't," Makoni said. "But you tried anyway. You faced your death like a man."
Steve remained silent.
"Impressive," Makoni said. "At least you can die with some dignity."
Makoni's finger rested on the trigger as the gun hovered in front of Steve's face.
Panting for breath and barely holding himself upright, Steve locked his gaze with Makoni's. His last thought went to his team–hoping they had all made it through the first explosion. And silently apologizing for not being able to say goodbye.
Then Makoni pulled the trigger.
*to be continued*
Sorry for the little cliffhanger.
Let me know what you think.