The Mysterious Hero

The Mysterious Hero: Chapter 7

            The mother of the little girl wailed, tearing through the crowds of people, but an officer stopped her from getting any closer to the thug. I was frozen in my spot, unsure of what to do. He held an innocent little girl, who didn’t deserve this. If he killed her then that little girl wouldn’t even be able to experience the joys of life, like having her first boyfriend or learning how to drive. No, she wouldn’t be able to do those things once the thug took her precious life away. I couldn’t let him kill her.

            “Step back,” the thug warned, cocking his gun towards us.

            There was hesitancy on all of the officers’ faces, but they stayed in their spot. They kept their guns pointed at the thug. The crowd of people from before left the scene, probably safe in the parking lot. An officer told me to get back, but I shook my head, refusing to move.

            The little girl whimpered, begging someone with her eyes to help her. The thug gripped her harder, and my heart clenched at seeing the girl in pain. But I couldn’t make a move because if I did, the thug would shoot.  

            “Let her go,” my voice came out loud and strong. “Take me instead.” If I took the little girl’s place then I had a pretty good chance of getting out. I was only concerned for the kid.

            The officers and thug looked at me in surprise and disbelief. The thug snarled, “Why?”

            I had to choose my words carefully. I was surprised that my voice was still confident as I said, “What are you going to do with a little girl? Just let her go and you can have me. I knocked out your buffoons; they’re unconscious in the storage room. If you take me, I can teach you how to punch really well.” My last statement was a lie but it wasn’t obvious to the thug.

            He seemed to contemplate what to do. Nodding his head, he pushed the little girl forward, her small body sliding on the floor. One of the officers carefully picked her up, pushing him behind her to get her to safety.

            The thug narrowed his eyes at me, gesturing for me to come to him. Nodding my head a bit, I cautiously stepped forward. “Hurry up,” he snapped, raising his gun. I noticed that his finger wasn’t on the trigger but on the handle of the gun. It would take him at least two seconds to move his finger to the trigger. Two seconds was enough for me.

            When I was two steps away from him, I pretended to be desperate and slumped my shoulders in defeat. Taking half a step, I halted and kicked my foot in the air, knocking the gun out of his grasp. My moves were too fast for the thug that he didn’t even realize what I did until I had him in a head lock. He flailed his arms as I brought my knee up, plunging it into him stomach. He gasped and dropped to the floor.

            I stood above him to see if he was really unconscious. Then he pulled my leg down, knocking my over. He gripped a knife in his hand, aiming it towards my face. I swished my right hand out to whack the knife out of his hands, and as I did so, the knife cut through my flesh. I hissed in pain, but it was bearable. The cut wasn’t as deep as the gash I had on my arm before, although I could feel the blood running down my arm.

            The thug extended his fist, but I grabbed it and twisted his hand. His face was contorted in agony, as I used my other hand to pull on his triceps. I moved my hands up and started to pull. He screeched when I managed dislocate his shoulder. I clambered to my feet as I watched the thug clutch his shoulder, attempting to relocate it.

            There was a deafening silence, except for my huffing. I looked up at the officers as they stood frozen in their spot, staring at me with wide eyes. Finally, one of the officers ordered, “Cuff him!”