Shadow Mutation (Book Seven) [UNDER MAJOR EDITING]

Chapter 6: Losing His Fight

He skates down the sidewalk, streetlamps winking at him as he passes. You're supposed to get lighter when you get rid of things, but every loss just makes him heavier.

He swings his hockey stick aimlessly. No matter how hard he tries, all he can think about is April. April's hair. April's smile. April sitting in a lecture hall with a pair of reading glasses and a shiny laptop, taking perfect notes and asking perfect questions. April's laugh. April's snappy sarcasm. April being happy. April smiling at him, looking at him from the pillow beside him, trailing her fingertips up and down his chest as she glows with love and...

He slams his stick into a beer bottle, sending it skittering across the street before it smashes into glossy brown shards in the gutter. His stomach flips and he skates faster, searching for the burn in his muscles to distract him.

If he were twenty-one, he'd be three drinks in by now, and he wonders if he should count himself lucky that his dad died before he was legal. Just another way to fuck things up.

Don't think about it, he tells himself. It's your own damn fault you're in this mess. You're the one who broke up with her. You're the one who chased Andy away. You're the reason Dad wasn't watching the road.

A loud crash echoes from nearby and Casey jolts to a stop, eyes widening. He hears voices, undecipherable from here, but not for long. He kicks back into gear, skating towards the noise as he flips his mask down.

"Idiots! This is irreplaceable cargo!"

He'd know that accented hiss anywhere. Casey's vision burns red as he grips his hockey stick tighter. A nest of snakes, ripe for the butt-kicking.

He skids around the nearest corner into a loading dock, coming face to face with a large gang of men, inked with purple tattoos winding around their biceps. Hun stands closest to him, surveying his men from behind his dark sunglasses. He turns to Casey, nostrils flaring as his lip curls, and Casey swears he sees the dragon's face on Hun's pectoral ripple.

"Hockey boy," he growls.

"You miss me, Scum?" Casey asks as he lowers himself into a shooting stance.

"Aw, not this kid again!" Sid groans. Fong and Tsoi nod their agreement as Fong plants his fist in his palm.

Some of the other men growl. Others crack their knuckles as they grip their fists, grinning. Three men near the back man a dolly loaded with metal boxes, each locked with a keypad.

"Alright, I'm feeling generous. Three seconds to ditch the goods," Casey says, stick hitting the pavement, "or I'll start knocking teeth out."

"I don't think so," Hun says. He whistles and motions at the men, sending them scurrying toward the unmarked white van parked at the end of the loading dock. "Dragons, teach him to mind his own business."

"Cool. I'm always a fan of the hard way," Casey says as multiple men rush at him.

On any other day, in any other situation, Casey would race headfirst into this fight with gusto, laughing his ass off, hollering "goongala" as he whipped their butts. Today, he's not feeling it. Today, there's only rage.

He evades a punch and throws out his gloved hand, his homemade taser hitting Sid straight in the chest. The beefy man howls and tumbles over, twitching a little. Casey tosses three pucks onto the pavement as others approach. With three quick strikes, the pucks meet their marks; forehead, gut, crotch. The men topple, groaning in pain.

Only, five men replace the four he's taken down, and Casey has a sobering thought. Ever since Hun came to power, he's trained these guys up. The gang has kept growing and where once there were three stooges and one competent leader, Casey now faces ten or more guys on top of the original four.