Sunday, 20 July 2008


He glanced at the liquor store assistant, and then at the shop door. His field of vision had detected members of the local street gang outside. He let the keeper have a polite smile as he scanned through the bottles of spirits. His Chinese reflection watched himself from the glass of a Bells whisky bottle, as his hearing caught waves of voices from outside. A short black leather and jeans, disguised his twelve stone combat trained frame. Which was usually dressed in a Gi. The reflection in which he cast from himself, seemed to resemble his fathers. He looked down at his calloused knuckles, and journeyed back to his childhood and the training his father had gave him. In all of twenty seconds he was back there with his Sifu, until they moved from China to the States in search of a better life. His pain scowered the walls of his internal skin and this young man orphan, who had lost his master, father and best friend, to the back trash gang dwelling outside of this store. He took the bottle of Bells whisky to the counter. The store assistant went to the back for carrier bags, so he checked on his telescopic nunchaku, and Sai tucked neatly in his rear belt.
The assistant waddled back with a cigarette resting on his bottom lip, 'Hey, pal. I can call the cops, save you getting hurt by that lot out there. They're known for muggings pal.'
He shot his eyes at the gang through the glass door, he was like a caged Tiger ready to break free. 'Yes, I know they are. But thank you all the same.' His English was fluent.
He unscrewed the cap off the Bells whisky bottle, and tucked a bandanna into the neck. Then, with respectful speed, he swiped the store assistants cigarette from his lips and then lit the cloth of mayhem.
'Sir! What are you doing?' Shouted the store assistant, with a delayed reaction.
He smiled again at the store assistant, and walked towards the door...
The gang scurried around like ants from a disturbed nest. Fire had taken ahold of some, as they tried to make sense of this attack. One of the gang pointed at a shifting shadow that had moved behind them, avoiding perceptual vision. A silhouette emerged towards them with great speed, and hit with great power. It was time for them to pay for taking the life of his father, they had fallen prey to the Shadow Of The Tiger. A one man vigilante with pain as his neighbour. A young man orphan, one hundred man Kumite winner. It all took twenty seconds.
Blood and crying could be seen and heard after the onslaught, Police graced the pavement and casualties were present. The area at the still of night could sleep in peace.
The store assistant ran out to the Police.
'Did you get a good look at this mystery man in question?' Asked the police, taking notes.
'Just that he looked Chinese, and spoke very politely. Replied the store assistant.
'Okay. Did you happen to get his name then?'
The store assistant shook his head, but pointed towards the steel shutter to the arcades. Through the smoke and broken bodies across the square, in blood was written...

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