#19: Perimeter Patrol.

Moving swiftly and silently, Drake approached the scrapyard and began circling the perimeter, keeping low to avoid detection. The old cars, trucks and vans piled up along the fence prevented him from getting a good look inside.

Ahead of him, he could make out the tell-tale orange glow of a lit cigarette. Drawing a bead on the light, he squeezed the trigger.
There was a muffled “pft-pft” sound, followed by a faint groan and thud as the darts hit their mark.

He moved over to the guard and rolled him over into the recovery position.  A second guard came around the corner. He and Drake saw each-other and raised their guns simultaneously. Something swished through the air and struck the Marauder on the back of the neck, knocking him down. Drake plugged him, just in case. A figure dressed in a black jumpsuit and wearing night-vision goggles materialized out of the darkness.

“I thought you didn’t want to get involved,” said Drake, walking over to the fence and beginning to work on it with a pair of bolt cutters.

“And let you have all the fun?” replied Jake, pulling off the goggles and picking up the kunai he had thrown.

“What about Lola?”

“We’re not married just yet, so she doesn’t have to know RIGHT now. I’ll make it up to her later.”

The brothers slipped through the hole in the fence and crept over a pile of rusty, broken down vehicles. Suddenly, the scrapyard flooded with light, pinning them under the intense beams, exposing them to the gang members surrounding them.

“Drat,” they said in unison. 

20 Final Face-off (Double Length)

As Drake’s eyes adjusted to the sudden light, he noticed just how many Marauders there actually were. Close to forty thugs surrounded the brothers; hanging from the crane, jumping off cars, all hooting like a pack of gibbons and swinging their weapons.
A few strategically placed men stood acting as sentries, covering the Mandibles with rifles, well out of shotgun range.

Drake dropped his MP 40 and put his hands above his head.

The leader, now wearing a long red robe and several large gilded chains as he stood astride a battered old monster truck, raised a hand for silence.

“Well, if it isn’t the proud little warrior,” boomed the leader. “You even brought a friend to share your curb-stomping.”

The brothers said nothing, but stared defiantly at the leader.

“Malcolm used his free call to warn me that you were on your way tonight, so we could plan a little welcoming party for you.”

Drake mentally kicked himself for not taking this into consideration.

“I took down your friends, I can take you too,” he said coolly.

The leader chuckled.

“Yes, that was pretty impressive, beating them all like a drum, especially Tito. But now it’s your turn.”

The Marauders started up their chanting again.

A narrow-faced, thirty-something man stepped forward and indicated that he wanted to talk to the leader. The man looked out of place among the younger hooligans. He dressed like a greaser, straight out of a 50’s film: leather jacket, white tee-shirt, powder-blue jeans, slicked-back hair and all. A veritable walking anachronism. After a brief discussion, the leader silenced his gang again.

“Johnny here wants to take first crack at you,” the leader said. “You shot his brother in the chest yesterday, now he’s in intensive care with four fractured ribs.”

Drake noticed how the Marauder neglected to mention that he’d been the one to use the brother as a human shield.

“Since Johnny’s my right hand man, I’m gonna let the two of you duke it out, Mano-e-Mano."a

An appreciative roar from the gang as Johnny stepped into the open area, opposite the Mandibles. a

“No guns and no interference, last man standing wins!”a

Two Marauders relived Drake of his tranq gun, shotgun and auto-revolver, but left the truncheon. Another two dragged Jake off to the side and pinned his arms behind his back.

The two combatants circled each-other.
A sudden glint of steel and Johnny had a switchblade in his hand.
Drake unfolded his truncheon and gave a few practice swipes, before settling into a solid stance.
He’d expected a few crass remarks from his opponent, but Johnny remained silent and focused.
Soon the rest of the gang followed his lead, watching eagerly.
Jake was the blade expert of the family, guns being more Drake’s forte, but he tried to remember what his brother told him about knife fighting. It was important to try and gauge the opponent’s level of skill, whether they stuck to offense or preferred defence and which hand they favoured.

He saw that Johnny was proficient by the way he twirled the blade back and forth, occasionally changing hands, indicating that he was possible ambidextrous.
Drake could feel the piercing gaze of his opponent and knew that he was doing the same thing.

Pushing any errant thought of failure out of his head, Drake focused on slowing down his breathing and keeping his heart-rate steady.

“BEGIN!”

Next Week: Drake duels Johnny the Greaser, but how will our hero fare against an opponent who fights dirty?

#21: Close Combat.

At first, nothing happened as Drake and Johnny circled each-other. The Marauder eventually made the first move, switchblade flashing through the air. He was fast, faster than Drake, who only just managed to deflect the blow with his truncheon. Johnny swiped again and again, displaying a remarkable accuracy. 

Drake realised that his opponent was heavily reliant on his knife. Maybe too reliant, if he could get the knife away from the Marauder, Drake could easily finish the fight before either of them got seriously hurt.

Blocking another thrust and a downward slash, Drake went on the attack. Johnny’s footwork was just as quick and he danced back out of range. They were evenly matched until Johnny miscalculated, got in too close and was knocked back by a palm-strike to the chest, sending him sprawling.
Rather than press his advantage, Drake waited for his opponent to retrieve his weapon and stand up. Instead, Johnny flung a handful of dirt into Drake’s face, blinding and disorienting him…