iPhone Notes Story 03/30/15

Genetics only goes so far.The point is reached where time and skill and determination supersede generous genetic predisposition. Sometimes.

He’ d been losing, badly. End of the road bad. 

In a life and death collision with a man his superior in virtually every aspect, the outcome was obvious. He would lose. He would die.

The genetically superior example had been sent here for this one purpose. A cheap motel room and then hallway, stairwell and now parking lot were the scenes playing out this violent bloody ballet.

He’d delivered good shots, caused significant damage. But the injuries he had suffered over the previous six minutes were greater, significantly worse. He moved his head an inch and missed another kick only to get a spinning elbow into the center of his back. He spun away, avoiding another kick, but he couldn’t avoid the knee that followed as it struck his left shoulder.

His opponent’s size and speed were more than formidable. They were seemingly impossible to counter, to stop.

Death was coming, it was imminent. Accumulated loss of blood and intermittent consciousness placed him in a danger zone he’d not experienced. Strange, he felt relief being this close to it.

It was coming, the end. He could see it. Now.

His supposed killer reared back to deliver what could be the final blow, a punch that had ill will and evil in its intent. 

But in the action this killer committed a fighter’s greatest sin. He hesitated. He examined his kill, took measure of the action. And most likely, envisioned how this blow, delivered by his genetic preeminence, would result in the submission and likely death of his opponent.

But in this half-second of analysis, of clinical dissection, this opponent hesitated. And a half-second is far too much time to delay a kill.

Because within this same portion of a fleeting moment, he rose. Through heavy mists of pain and disorder and stupor, he rose. With his arms and fists down at his side, he maximized human mechanical efficiency and launched upward, a missile, a battering ram.

Ducking his head just before making contact, the crown of his head connected with his superior opponent’s nose, smashing cartilage, then bone.

Because his genetically favored counterpart had begun the downward motion of his punch, the collision of crown of head to face was ugly, messy, fatal.

Size and strength succumbed to experience and brutal creativity. The smaller, weaker, better killer won.

iPhone Notes Story 03.30.15



About Christopher Metcalf - Author

Christopher Metcalf is the author of Lance Priest / Preacher novels. Lance "Preacher" Priest is a spy, a killer, a human chameleon. He is the CIA's perfect weapon who lives by one simple rule -- there are no rules. Spies and Lies is a blog dedicated to espionage, the art and science of lying and occasional creative writing. www.christophermetcalf.com
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