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For the people wandering about Clarence Street, going about their daily business, the event of a shower of glass falling from the upper levels of a high-rise building coming down onto a hundred unsuspecting pedestrians was quite remarkable. That the glass was followed by a conference table, of sorts, which gathered enough momentum on it's fall to pummel to adjoining parked cars into a permanent dent in the tarmac made it a once-in-a-lifetime experience for anyone there to witness it. Something you'd tell your grandchildren about.
But it was the body that quickly followed that made the day something really outstanding.
For Kyle Mellor however, it was all in a day's work. He had tracked his quarry for what had seemed an age, and had finally cornered "The Scorpion" in, of all places, a well frequented high rise office block in the middle of town. However, the difference today was that he hadn't expected his prey to be prepared for his arrival.
The fight itself was brief. From the moment Kyle swung the door open, fists and feet flew at him like daggers; swift and lethal. But he was equal to the task of defending himself, moving like lightning to avoid what blows he could, and essentially competent at blocking those he could not. As the fight raged swiftly onwards, the furniture was quickly involved, chairs hurled by one at the other, smashing into splinters against the walls as they inevitably missed their target. Before long, The Scorpion made use of the well finished hardwood table that was the centrepiece of the room. It must have weighed half a ton, but it was lifted from the floor as though it were a small sack of flour. It's size made it difficult to avoid as it was swung, and Kyle took a blow to the face as The Scorpion wielded a weighty and cumbersome piece of wood the size of a small whale like a rapier in the hand of a champion fencer. However, the room itself was not large enough to accommodate such an object being freely swung about like a cat by the tail, and the window inevitably intervened.
The shattering of glass made a strangely powerful booming noise, and the table itself became entagled in a web of broken glass, cracked cement and warped steel. With the make-shift weapon neutralised, the combat ensued with vicious enthusiasm. Kyle, still reeling from the blow dealt to him by the half-ton hardwood rapier, was dealt a stunning blow, and sent reeling into the entangled table. Upon impact, the table lost its battle to stay within the building, and disappeared out the window as it fell to the street below.
Kyle was on te backfoot, defending a continuing flurry of blows, with his back to a gaping hole in the building's side. It was no longer a fight he could win, and eventually The Scorpion's strength was too much. Should have somehow maintained the element of surprise, he reflected, as his bruised body was rudely exited from the building, and plummetted to the street below to assess the damage to the conference table.
From an onlooker's point of view, the event was a miracle. An act of divine intervention, unexplainable by any word other than miracle. The body looked already dead when it appeared from the building. Falling gracelessly without the usual flapping resistance one might expect against the inevitable. Only wind resistance caused any movement at all, as the very air pushed the body about as it fell, like a rag doll flung from a baby girls grasp by her mean older brother, intent on throwing the doll only to see how far it went. But the final second seemed to take an age, could have been played back in the mind with superb clarity, as the body sudeenly twisted twice in the air, righted itself and landed on the pavement.
The pavement reacted with a shudder, setting off a dozen or so car alarms in the vicinity. Alarms which had only just been silenced following the arrival of the table. But the image of the fallen man would stay with all who saw it for the rest of their days. He had landed perfectly with his left foot, right knee and left hand all making a cushioning impact on the tarmac. His right arm was outstretched, balancing him, and the tarmac itself was cracked and sunken where he had impacted upon it. But he was alive and unharmed, and carried a wry, reflective smile as though this had all been done before. Moments later, he was gone. Simply walked off, and everyone around was too astonished to even question him.
But it was the body that quickly followed that made the day something really outstanding.
For Kyle Mellor however, it was all in a day's work. He had tracked his quarry for what had seemed an age, and had finally cornered "The Scorpion" in, of all places, a well frequented high rise office block in the middle of town. However, the difference today was that he hadn't expected his prey to be prepared for his arrival.
The fight itself was brief. From the moment Kyle swung the door open, fists and feet flew at him like daggers; swift and lethal. But he was equal to the task of defending himself, moving like lightning to avoid what blows he could, and essentially competent at blocking those he could not. As the fight raged swiftly onwards, the furniture was quickly involved, chairs hurled by one at the other, smashing into splinters against the walls as they inevitably missed their target. Before long, The Scorpion made use of the well finished hardwood table that was the centrepiece of the room. It must have weighed half a ton, but it was lifted from the floor as though it were a small sack of flour. It's size made it difficult to avoid as it was swung, and Kyle took a blow to the face as The Scorpion wielded a weighty and cumbersome piece of wood the size of a small whale like a rapier in the hand of a champion fencer. However, the room itself was not large enough to accommodate such an object being freely swung about like a cat by the tail, and the window inevitably intervened.
The shattering of glass made a strangely powerful booming noise, and the table itself became entagled in a web of broken glass, cracked cement and warped steel. With the make-shift weapon neutralised, the combat ensued with vicious enthusiasm. Kyle, still reeling from the blow dealt to him by the half-ton hardwood rapier, was dealt a stunning blow, and sent reeling into the entangled table. Upon impact, the table lost its battle to stay within the building, and disappeared out the window as it fell to the street below.
Kyle was on te backfoot, defending a continuing flurry of blows, with his back to a gaping hole in the building's side. It was no longer a fight he could win, and eventually The Scorpion's strength was too much. Should have somehow maintained the element of surprise, he reflected, as his bruised body was rudely exited from the building, and plummetted to the street below to assess the damage to the conference table.
From an onlooker's point of view, the event was a miracle. An act of divine intervention, unexplainable by any word other than miracle. The body looked already dead when it appeared from the building. Falling gracelessly without the usual flapping resistance one might expect against the inevitable. Only wind resistance caused any movement at all, as the very air pushed the body about as it fell, like a rag doll flung from a baby girls grasp by her mean older brother, intent on throwing the doll only to see how far it went. But the final second seemed to take an age, could have been played back in the mind with superb clarity, as the body sudeenly twisted twice in the air, righted itself and landed on the pavement.
The pavement reacted with a shudder, setting off a dozen or so car alarms in the vicinity. Alarms which had only just been silenced following the arrival of the table. But the image of the fallen man would stay with all who saw it for the rest of their days. He had landed perfectly with his left foot, right knee and left hand all making a cushioning impact on the tarmac. His right arm was outstretched, balancing him, and the tarmac itself was cracked and sunken where he had impacted upon it. But he was alive and unharmed, and carried a wry, reflective smile as though this had all been done before. Moments later, he was gone. Simply walked off, and everyone around was too astonished to even question him.
I like the understating in your desciptions, gives everything a bit of an edge.
And someone landing perfectly from a massive fall has always been undeniably cool. It's a law of something.
Nice.
And someone landing perfectly from a massive fall has always been undeniably cool. It's a law of something.
Nice.
Superheroes scrapping in a skyscraper - I like. Lots of detail in the fight, and a humourous ending. (And I recognize your style ;-))
At which point...?
that made sense until half-way through...
For the people wandering about Clarence Street, going about their daily business, the event of a shower of glass falling from the upper levels of a high-rise building coming down onto a hundred unsuspecting pedestrians was quite remarkable. That the glass was followed by a conference table, of sorts, which gathered enough momentum on it's fall to pummel to adjoining parked cars into a permanent dent in the tarmac made it a once-in-a-lifetime experience for anyone there to witness it. Something you'd tell your grandchildren about.
But it was the body that quickly followed that made the day something really outstanding.
For Kyle Mellor however, it was all in a day's work. He had tracked his quarry for what had seemed an age, and had finally cornered "The Scorpion" in, of all places, a well frequented high rise office block in the middle of town. However, the difference today was that he hadn't expected his prey to be prepared for his arrival.
The fight itself was brief. From the moment Kyle swung the door open, fists and feet flew at him like daggers; swift and lethal. But he was equal to the task of defending himself, moving like lightning to avoid what blows he could, and essentially competent at blocking those he could not. As the fight raged swiftly onwards, the furniture was quickly involved, chairs hurled by one at the other, smashing into splinters against the walls as they inevitably missed their target. Before long, The Scorpion made use of the well finished hardwood table that was the centrepiece of the room. It must have weighed half a ton, but it was lifted from the floor as though it were a small sack of flour. It's size made it difficult to avoid as it was swung, and Kyle took a blow to the face as The Scorpion wielded a weighty and cumbersome piece of wood the size of a small whale like a rapier in the hand of a champion fencer. However, the room itself was not large enough to accommodate such an object being freely swung about like a cat by the tail, and the window inevitably intervened.
The shattering of glass made a strangely powerful booming noise, and the table itself became entagled in a web of broken glass, cracked cement and warped steel. With the make-shift weapon neutralised, the combat ensued with vicious enthusiasm. Kyle, still reeling from the blow dealt to him by the half-ton hardwood rapier, was dealt a stunning blow, and sent reeling into the entangled table. Upon impact, the table lost its battle to stay within the building, and disappeared out the window as it fell to the street below.
Kyle was on te backfoot, defending a continuing flurry of blows, with his back to a gaping hole in the building's side. It was no longer a fight he could win, and eventually The Scorpion's strength was too much. Should have somehow maintained the element of surprise, he reflected, as his bruised body was rudely exited from the building, and plummetted to the street below to assess the damage to the conference table.
From an onlooker's point of view, the event was a miracle. An act of divine intervention, unexplainable by any word other than miracle. The body looked already dead when it appeared from the building. Falling gracelessly without the usual flapping resistance one might expect against the inevitable. Only wind resistance caused any movement at all, as the very air pushed the body about as it fell, like a rag doll flung from a baby girls grasp by her mean older brother, intent on throwing the doll only to see how far it went. But the final second seemed to take an age, could have been played back in the mind with superb clarity, as the body sudeenly twisted twice in the air, righted itself and landed on the pavement.
The pavement reacted with a shudder, setting off a dozen or so car alarms in the vicinity. Alarms which had only just been silenced following the arrival of the table. But the image of the fallen man would stay with all who saw it for the rest of their days. He had landed perfectly with his left foot, right knee and left hand all making a cushioning impact on the tarmac. His right arm was outstretched, balancing him, and the tarmac itself was cracked and sunken where he had impacted upon it. But he was alive and unharmed, and carried a wry, reflective smile as though this had all been done before. Moments later, he was gone. Simply walked off, and everyone around was too astonished to even question him.
But it was the body that quickly followed that made the day something really outstanding.
For Kyle Mellor however, it was all in a day's work. He had tracked his quarry for what had seemed an age, and had finally cornered "The Scorpion" in, of all places, a well frequented high rise office block in the middle of town. However, the difference today was that he hadn't expected his prey to be prepared for his arrival.
The fight itself was brief. From the moment Kyle swung the door open, fists and feet flew at him like daggers; swift and lethal. But he was equal to the task of defending himself, moving like lightning to avoid what blows he could, and essentially competent at blocking those he could not. As the fight raged swiftly onwards, the furniture was quickly involved, chairs hurled by one at the other, smashing into splinters against the walls as they inevitably missed their target. Before long, The Scorpion made use of the well finished hardwood table that was the centrepiece of the room. It must have weighed half a ton, but it was lifted from the floor as though it were a small sack of flour. It's size made it difficult to avoid as it was swung, and Kyle took a blow to the face as The Scorpion wielded a weighty and cumbersome piece of wood the size of a small whale like a rapier in the hand of a champion fencer. However, the room itself was not large enough to accommodate such an object being freely swung about like a cat by the tail, and the window inevitably intervened.
The shattering of glass made a strangely powerful booming noise, and the table itself became entagled in a web of broken glass, cracked cement and warped steel. With the make-shift weapon neutralised, the combat ensued with vicious enthusiasm. Kyle, still reeling from the blow dealt to him by the half-ton hardwood rapier, was dealt a stunning blow, and sent reeling into the entangled table. Upon impact, the table lost its battle to stay within the building, and disappeared out the window as it fell to the street below.
Kyle was on te backfoot, defending a continuing flurry of blows, with his back to a gaping hole in the building's side. It was no longer a fight he could win, and eventually The Scorpion's strength was too much. Should have somehow maintained the element of surprise, he reflected, as his bruised body was rudely exited from the building, and plummetted to the street below to assess the damage to the conference table.
From an onlooker's point of view, the event was a miracle. An act of divine intervention, unexplainable by any word other than miracle. The body looked already dead when it appeared from the building. Falling gracelessly without the usual flapping resistance one might expect against the inevitable. Only wind resistance caused any movement at all, as the very air pushed the body about as it fell, like a rag doll flung from a baby girls grasp by her mean older brother, intent on throwing the doll only to see how far it went. But the final second seemed to take an age, could have been played back in the mind with superb clarity, as the body sudeenly twisted twice in the air, righted itself and landed on the pavement.
The pavement reacted with a shudder, setting off a dozen or so car alarms in the vicinity. Alarms which had only just been silenced following the arrival of the table. But the image of the fallen man would stay with all who saw it for the rest of their days. He had landed perfectly with his left foot, right knee and left hand all making a cushioning impact on the tarmac. His right arm was outstretched, balancing him, and the tarmac itself was cracked and sunken where he had impacted upon it. But he was alive and unharmed, and carried a wry, reflective smile as though this had all been done before. Moments later, he was gone. Simply walked off, and everyone around was too astonished to even question him.