Old Porters: Burning Eden

Chapter Twenty Eight

Twenty Eight

The timer on the screens read 5.00 minutes, then 4.49, then 4.48 as Roger took a step forward and lunged across the old wood desk in front of him at the plump middle aged woman sitting behind it. It was only a distance of about five feet, but before Roger had closed the gap he was slammed into the desk top by a force from above him. Startled, with his face pressed against the smooth wood work surface, Roger wondered what the hell was happening for a moment, but only a moment, because then he was thrown across the room like a stuffed toy.

After first hitting one of the screens, then the wall behind it, Roger dropped to the floor. Laid amid cubes of glass, the vigilante looked over to the desk. Erebus had reappeared and she had brought Abaddon with her. The warrior was wearing her skeleton armour and although the vigilante could not see it, he assumed she was smiling beneath her mask.

"It's time for us to head to the vault," Shelley said looking at Erebus. She turned to Abaddon and added, "If you can kill him within the next four minutes and thirty seconds feel free to join us. Try not to spill too much of his blood on my floor."

Standing up, using the wall for balance, Roger watched the trio shift nervously backwards a step. The remaining screens read 4.21. No time to ask if they wanted to surrender, no time to be nice.

Pushing off the wall Roger took a deep breath. He wanted the world to slow down, he wanted more time. But nothing happened. Maybe he was too burnt out and damaged from his earlier adventures, he did not know.

4.18 Roger swung his right fist at Abaddon's jaw. She swung her left arm up and blocked the blow. Twisting in the same motion, the warrior brought her right leg up and slammed her kneecap into the vigilante's chest, just below the ribs.

Roger gasped as the impact forced all the air from his lungs. He rolled with the blow, crashing into the desk, stumbling and knocking the desk lamp to the floor in one, not so smooth motion. The lamp shattered as it hit the polished wooden floor.

Shelley and Erebus hurried past the screens, the timer rolling down with every step. The lacky held the laptop from the desk in her hands like it was a tray full of drinks. Roger saw the screen, displaying the same timer as the one projected onto the walls and beneath it, a button that said 'Cancel'. He knew that was where he needed to be. Of course between him and the laptop was Abaddon, who was throwing her fist towards his head at that moment.

4.09 Roger snapped his head out of the way of Abaddon's haymaker. Her fist hit the desk and it cracked. Roger jumped up and clamped his hands around her throat. The material was rough but it was not reinforced, so he squeezed. The warrior reached out and grabbed at the vigilante's throat, but her arms were not quite long enough for her to successfully choke him, just as he had intended. Instead, Abaddon slammed her heel down onto Roger's toes. There was a clang as she struck the steel cap of his boots. It crumpled with the impact, but caused her more discomfort than him.

Six seconds into his strangulation of Abaddon, Roger felt a punch to his chest. Much to the vigilante's surprise Abaddon's fist hit with the force of a bullet even though she barely built up any momentum with the swing. The blow knocked the wind out of Roger and he dropped to his knees, feeling as if his organs had been re arranged. Once she was free from Animal's grip, the warrior took a deep breath. She hated to admit it that even with her upgrades, he still had the upper hand in a fair fight. It seemed that the best policy would be to make sure this was not a fair fight. With the vigilante down on one knee, grabbing his chest in front of her, Abaddon attempted to do what had worked out well for her in the past. Kick him in the face.

As he told himself he was leaving himself vulnerable, Roger saw Abaddon take a step back, then swing her right leg forward. The vigilante shifted his weight backwards and grabbed the approaching boot with both hands, one wrapped around the heel, the other holding onto the sole. He saw scrapes and a piece of gravel stuck between the tred, but no mud. He was not sure why that mattered. He also wondered what the official name for the pattern on the bottom of a shoe was called. He assumed there was one but he had no idea what it was called, and not knowing things bugged him. He decided that he would add looking up the official name for the pattern on the sole of a shoe to his to do list, along with all the other stuff.