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The Berserker
He and I were locked in combat, eyes staring at each other like two wolves fighting for dominance of the pack. He threw a round kick at me, hoping it would land and knock me down, but I stepped backwards in time to evade it. I then threw two punches at him, a jab and a cross. He raised his arms to block both, but I was expecting that. I then threw another jab, which once again caused him to raise his arms to block, but I then quickly used the momentum from my punch to turn all the way into a spinning side kick, one that landed right in the center of his stomach. The impact folded him like a cheap beach chair.
About two seconds later, the bell rang, and our sensei shouted “TIME!” The match was over, and even though there were officially no winners and losers in classroom free sparring, it was clear that I had come out on top in the match.
“Sparring gear, off!” Our sensei ordered.
As we went to the dojo’s shelves to put away our protective gear, my opponent, Patrick, came up to me and said “Wow, you’ve got one Hell of a turning side kick?”
“Thank you.” I said. “That’s my signature combo, the jab-cross followed up by a jab-turning side kick. No one ever sees it coming.”
“Is that so?” He asked. “You know, do you wanna get a drink sometime? First rounds on me.”
I said “You know, that sounds great.”
_____
The next day we went to a local bar to get a beer. Patrick was a fairly new student at our school, but one who’d already gotten a black belt at a different location, so he was placed immediately in the advanced class.
“So, if you don’t mind me asking, what got you into taekwondo?” He asked.
“Just needed something to keep me in shape after the Army.” I answered. “To be honest, my life lost a lot of purpose after I left. I went from doing something that felt fulfilling, to sitting at a desk processing Amazon orders. But the dojo helped me regain that warrior spirit, you know?”
“Oh, I fully understand.” Patrick said. “You’re very good, it’s no wonder they made you the assistant instructor.”
“Thank you.” I said as I took another sip of beer.
“So, tell me a little bit about yourself.” Patrick said, and it was the start of a long conversation.
_____
I didn’t think much of our conversation at the bar, just figured I’d made a new friend. But a few nights later, while I was fast asleep, I heard Patrick say “Good morning.” as I found him staring at me over my bed, fully dressed in a business suit. Beside him were two men in thick padded armor, each having weapons strapped to their utility belt.
Of course, I tried to fight back. I punched one and kicked the other, but against their armor, my strikes just bounced off. They quickly overpowered and subdued me. They gagged me, hooded me, cuffed me, then stuck a syringe in my arm that made me feel very tired all of a sudden. They then dragged me to my garage, where I was loaded into the back of a van they had parked there.
“Don’t worry, we’ll explain later.” Patrick said as I drifted off to sleep.
______
When the hood and gag were taken off, I was in some sort of gym. Patrick was standing there, still in his suit.
“Good morning.” He said.
I then grabbed him by his shirt collar and said “Dude, you have about two seconds to tell me where I am before I…”
“Ugh ugh, I wouldn’t be so feisty if I were you.” He said as he pointed to one of the windows in the gym. Behind it were four guards, dressed the same as the armed, armored thugs who kidnapped me. “They’re under orders to control you nonlethally, but they’re free to make things very painful for you.”
I let go of him.
“But, since it is important you know, the truth is that I’m not who I say I am. You see, I’m a bit of a talent scout for my boss. I won’t give you his name, but we normally refer to him simply as The Berserker, I suggest the two of us do the same. The Berserker is a very, very wealthy man with a very, very particular hobby.”
“What hobby?” I asked.
“Fighting, to the death.” He answered. “He gave boxing and MMA a try in his younger years, and even made amateur leagues in both, but having to stop at knockout just never satisfied him. So, he has scouts such as myself, who find gifted fighters & martial artists like you, drawn from gyms and dojos all over the country. We bring them here, and hope to give him a real challenge.”
“Here, if you’ll turn your attention to the monitor, you’ll see what you’re up against.”
He used a remote to play a video on a TV in a corner of the gym. A video showed two men stepping into the ring. One was wearing nothing but athletic shorts, and a dark mask that concealed his face. The other wore only sweatpants & boxing gloves.
“The one in the mask is The Berserker.” He explained. “The man you see him up against, was a two time Golden Gloves boxer.”
The boxer began throwing punches, but nothing landed. The Berserker moved with the speed and finesse of a cat, never staying in one spot for more than a moment or two. After the boxer began wearing himself out, The Berserker threw a roundhouse kick that took out his leg, forcing the boxer to then start hobbling in pain as he tried to continue the fight.
The Berserker then dashed behind him and threw another round kick, this one that landed right at the base of his spine. The boxer’s scream of pain was nothing short of blood curdling.
The Berserker then wrapped his arm around his neck, and put him in stranglehold, and did not stop until the boxer finally just lost life.
“This can’t be real.” I said. “There’s no way you can actually get away with this.”
“That’s why we’re careful.” Patrick continued. “That’s why we have scouts all over the country. His last fight was against a college wrestler we picked up at a college campus in Mississippi. Before then, a Brazilian jiu-jitsu prodigy from a gym in Idaho. I can go on, but I think you get the point.”
“He’s won all of his past 118 fights.” Patrick explained. “And in three days, you will most likely be his 119th.”
“Between now and then, you have free reign of this gym, and the living quarters in the room behind that door. If you want food, any food, our 24 hour kitchen staff can whip up anything you want. The Berserker wants you to be fully prepared for your duel.”
_______
I ordered lobster tail just to see if Patrick was serious. To my shock, it was delivered to the gym in about twenty minutes. It even came with a glass of white wine (that I hadn’t even asked for), along with a note signed by the chef that read “I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror if I served this lobster tail without this perfect wine pairing.” Patrick wasn’t kidding when he said they’d bring me whatever food I wanted, although it felt less of a kindness and more of them just trying to fatten up the pig they were about to slaughter. I wouldn’t be much of a show for the crowd if I was weak when I entered the cage.
But I intended to be at full strength during my fight. I knew I was playing into what they wanted, but I also didn’t care. If I was gonna die, I was going to die fighting. So I spent those three days working out just hard enough to not injure myself. I would pound the heavy bags, lift weights, and run on the treadmill for as much as I could take, for hours on end, for all three of my training days. It was all I had to do; the only things I could get to play on the gym’s TV were exercise videos. I didn’t have any books, any magazines, and the only people I had to talk to were the guards (and to put it mildly, they weren’t very conversational).
By the end of it, I was in the best shape of my life. Even when I was in the Army, I was never in such great shape. I felt ready to take on the world. But was I ready to take on him?
_______
“Are you ready?” Patrick asked me, as it was time to step out and faced why lay ahead of me.
“Yeah.” I said, coldly.
“I do hope you know that this isn’t personal. If anything I kind of liked you. But we all have a place in this world, I’m sure an ex soldier of all people understands that.”
I wanted to kill him right then and there, for having the gall to compare his crimes to my service. But there were two guards hovering over me, both with their palms resting on the handles of his firearms, ready to draw & fire the moment I stepped out of line. So I held my anger, and walked to the arena like a man.
“Ladies and gentlemen” a disembodied voice boomed over the intercoms, as the crowd went wild. I have no idea how or why The Berserker got an audience for these fights, or what kind of sociopath would actually pay to be there, but whatever the reason, the stands had dozens of people there to see me die.
I stepped into the ring, and the announcer said “Today’s challenger stands 6’3, weighing in at 185 pounds. He has eleven years of taekwondo under his belt, but will that be enough? He’s about to find out.”
And then, The Berserker entered the ring. He was at least two inches taller and much more jacked than I ever was, I could tell that this alone was gonna make it a difficult fight.
“On three!” The announcer shouted. “1…2…3!”
The Berserker then came at me with a flying round kick that would have shattered my rib cage if it had landed. Thankfully, I evaded just in time, and his foot flew through the air.
But before I could even counter, he continued the turn and threw a spinning elbow strike that landed right on the side of my face. I then spit out one of my own teeth.
He followed up a flurry of punches, but I stepped backwards to keep his fists away from me, until I felt the cold metal of the cage.
He thought he had me cornered and helpless, and he went on the offensive, hoping to land a knockout punch. This was a mistake; as he came charging in, I lifted my front leg and shot a lightning fast sidekick directly to his liver.
He stumbled backwards in pain & shock. For the first time in the fight, I had a moment of advantage, and I didn’t intend to waste it. I followed up with a spinning wheel kick that made his jawline meet my heel.
Before he could recover, I threw a body punch that landed right in his stomach. I then tried to throw another, but he blocked it in time. And then, before I could throw anything else, he stepped in close, grabbed my arm, and threw me to the ground, judo style.
He then began making it rain hammerfists all over me. I tried to cover myself as best as I could, but he was constantly moving over me, finding new spots to slam his hands into.
If I didn’t stop this, I’d be a goner. So I crawled out from underneath him, and then used bicycle kicks to create some distance. Once I put a few feet between us, I hopped back on my feet.
I then went on the offensive. I stepped forward and threw a punch, but he stepped back. This gave me an idea; my signature combo had never failed me before, why wouldn’t it help me now?
I threw two punches at him, a rapid jab-cross combo. He raised his hands to block, and stepped back. After resetting, I threw another jab; he once again put his hands up to his face to block, but this time, I twisted my hips, and nailed him right in his exposed, unprotected stomach.
He collapsed in pain, and spat out a mouthful of blood. Back in the dojo, my kicks were usually softened by foot pads, chest protectors, and my inclination to not hurt my friends. But in this arena, none of those things were there to stop my sidekick from devastating him. All I had to do was decide how to finish him off, and I figured stomping on his neck would be a
I had never killed anyone before, not even during my time in the Army. I wasn’t sure if I could even follow through with it; but I won’t lie, I enjoyed the feeling of crushing his windpipe a lot more than I thought I would. Watching him try to breathe only to suffocate was the icing on the cake.
______
After the fight, the guards escorted me out.
“PATRICK!” I shouted as my former opponent’s lackey came out.
“Yes, sir.” He said.
“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t do to you what I just did to your boss.” I said.
“Sir, please calm down.” Patrick said.
“I could’ve died in there. I…”
“Sir, please, sit.” Patrick said.
I took a deep breath, and then took a seat. I decided to at least hear him out before killing him.
“Don’t lie, I saw the look on your face. You enjoyed the feeling of taking the life out of him, didn’t you?”
I did not care about Patrick enough to bother lying to him. “Yes, I did.” I answered, bluntly.
“Sir, these fights make more money than you’ve ever dreamed of. Tickets to be in the audience cost $50,000 each. Our dark web live streams cost $2,000 per view.”
“Are you serious?” I asked.
“Completely. The only other places on Earth that provide an experience even close to this are in third world shitholes where you’d take him a deadly disease as a souvenir. For those wanting a bit of luxury with their show of blood, this is truly a one of a kind experience.”
“And our headliner, the one they all come to see, is now dead. Do you get what I’m saying?”
_____
A month later…
“Are you ready, sir?” Patrick asked me.
“100%.” I said as I finished my stretch kicks.
Patrick then turned to a guard and said “Let the announcer know it’s time to open the fight.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, please introduce our returning champion!” the announcer boomed as I entered the ring.
“And in this corner, we have the challenger. A Muay Thai fighter, handpicked from one of the toughest gyms in Louisiana.”
It was time to start my first real day at my new job.
#short fiction#original fiction#short story#original story#original work#martial artist#martial arts#action story#action adventure#action#original writing#fiction writing#writing
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Big Thunder Mountain Railroad: Chief Mankiller's Lost Treasure (Tales from the Magic Kingdom)
I’ll never forget that day: the day a strange man in an even stranger suit came up to me while I was at work.
“Good afternoon officer.” He greeted.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
“Well yes, I was thinking you could.” He said. “I heard you used to work on the Big Thunder Mountain Railroad.”
“Yeah, I did.” I said. “Now can I help you with a law enforcement matter?”
“No, you seem to have law enforcement around here covered.” He said.
“Then please be on your way.” I said.
“You sure?” He asked before tossing a gold nugget at my feet.
“Sir, if you are attempting to bribe…”
“Oh no, no bribes.” He said. “Just a gift. And there’s more where that came from if you meet me for a drink after your shift ends.”
_________
Not many people still talked about the Big Thunder Mountain.
The Big Thunder Mountain used to be the heart of our town’s economy. At one point, half the men here, including myself, worked up there. Given that I was a half-deaf veteran of the Civil War (and the losing side no less), mining was just about the best thing I could do for myself, and for a while, it was pretty good living. But overtime, the mine just stopped producing gold. About ten years ago, the final nail of the mine’s coffin was planted when a flash flood destroyed most of the track and killed a good portion of the miners. The owners simply decided to cut their losses and close the mine completely, and the whole town suffered as a result. Ten years later, and I’m one of the mine’s few workers in town who didn’t leave.
I wanted to just forget that part of my life; but still, I was too curious not to meet the fellow at the saloon.
When I saw him sitting at a table, drinking beer and smoking a pipe, I walked up to him and bluntly asked “What do you want?”
“My name’s Jonathan Cole.” He said. “And you’re Abraham Schneider, I take it.”
“Yes.” I answered. “Now, what do you want?”
“I believe there’s still treasure in the Big Thunder Mountain.” He said. “And I want you to help me find it.”
“What makes you so confident?” I asked.
“Oh, I have my sources.” He said. “Listen, help me find what I’m looking for, and I’ll give you rewards beyond what you’d ever make in this craphole of a town.”
He could tell I was hesitant.
“Look, it’s a completely victimless crime.” He continued. “The land owners have long abandoned the mine, they don’t even know what’s down there. And even if they did, they wouldn’t know where to look for it. You have literally nothing to lose and everything to gain. So, what’s it gonna be?”
_________
The next day, we left. I had a Deputy cover for me, and I went to join Jonathan at the entrance to the mine.
“Who’s all these folks?” I asked as I pointed to three men who were there to join us.
“Oh, they’re just here for protection.” He explained. “Never know what can happen in these old mines.”
“Very well.” I said. I also had a handgun concealed under my coat. “Do you have the map?”
He then handed me an old, faded, and crumbled up map. But still, I could tell exactly where their treasure was.
“Follow me.” I said as I lit a lantern.
______
Even though it had been years, I still remembered those catacombs by heart.
“Alright, here’s where the map is leading to.” I said, as we entered an empty, dead end chamber.
“You sure?” Cole asked.
“Positive.”
“Alrighty then.” Cole said before pulling a bottle out of his jacket.
“You really gonna get a drink right now?”
“Oh, this is no drink.” He said. “This here is nitroglycerin.”
“You serious?” I asked. “You telling me that you’ve been carrying nitroglycerin this entire time? You could’ve blown us sky high.”
“Calm down, I know what I’m doing.” He said. “Now everyone get out of this room, unless you wanna die.”
_______
He set the bottle down near one of the cave walls, and once everyone had cleared out, he pulled his gun and shot the bottle. It caused an explosion that revealed that one part of the cave wall was actually hiding something behind it.
“Gentlemen, we have our riches.” Cole said as he entered a room filled with Native American artifacts.
“Wait, I thought you said this had gold.”
“I said it had treasure.” He explained. “And it does. The lost treasure of Chief Mankiller, a Native American war chief who stashed his treasure in this mountain right before his last battle with settlers. And we get to split it four ways.”
“I’m sorry, four ways?” I asked.
“Oh yeah, that’s the best part. We’re done with you.” Cole said before drawing his gun and firing at me.
_______
Thankfully, the bullet only grazed me. Another inch or so, and I’d have been a goner, but all I got in that cave was a flesh wound.
But still, I had to play dead. It was one versus four, there’s no way I could've won in a fair fight. Luckily, it only took them a minute or so to grab the treasure and be on their way.
Once they were gone, I knew I needed to make a plan. I couldn’t beat them all at once. But then, I remembered that just around the corner, there was something I could use.
I even checked the railroad tracks; they were all in good enough shape. And then, I found her, the train I used to operate back when the mine was open. There was even charcoal left behind in the engine.
“Perfect.” I said to myself as I pulled a match out of my coat and tossed it in the engine. From there, all I had to do was wait for her to start back up and ride her again.
________
I caught up to them just moments before they were going to exit the mountain.
At first, they were stunned; they heard the train coming, but were dumbfounded as to who was riding it or how it even got started at all.
I stopped the train right at the mouth of the cave. If they wanted to leave, they were gonna have to go through me, and I wasn’t gonna let them.
One of them fired at me. He missed and hit the side of the train. I returned fire and hit him right in the forehead.
Cole began running away while his friends opened fire. It would’ve been difficult to outshoot both at once with just a handgun, but then I remembered the shotgun I always kept hidden underneath the train car’s floor.
I then fired through a gap in the train's outer metal lining, and killed both of them.
Then, I turned to Cole. Only bad part about trains is that they can’t go backwards, so I had no choice but to pursue on foot.
I lost him when he turned a corner and went down one of a handful of tunnels. And then, from wherever he was hiding, he fired at me, and I was forced to take cover against one of the cave walls.
“Thanks for doing me a favor back there.” Cole said. “Now I don’t have to split the treasure four ways.”
He fired at me again, and this time, I saw the flash of his gun; I knew where he was hiding.
After he took his next shot, I immediately jumped out of cover, turned, and fired. Killed him with one shot.
_________
Turns out Cole was right; I did end up a rich man that day. All I had to do was ride a few days to Houston, find the right antiques broker, and then I never had to look back at the Big Thunder Mountain ever again.
#fiction#short story#short fiction#action#action adventure#action story#wild west#western#cowboys#cowboy#disney#disney story#magic kingdom#disney ride
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MrMonster's Martial Arts Journey 4: Pencak Silat
Country of Origin: Indonesia
History: Silat's true origins are hard to come by. It is by far the oldest martial art we've visited so far, maybe one of the oldest in the world.
The earliest recorded history of Pencak Silat begins in the 6th century, when warriors known as hulubalang trained to defend their regional monarchs. Penchak Silat’s first true test was during the Mongol invasion of Java, where Silat trained warriors successfully repelled the Mongol army.
Silat gained rapid popularity during Indonesia's brutal colonial occupation by The Netherlands. Dutch colonists had a lot of advantages, but the Silatists on the islands were known to fight like Hell.
After the end of Dutch rule, modern Silat began to take shape with the formation of the IPSF, an organization created to unite all of Indonesia’s martial arts styles under one roof. The martial art is now the standard martial art of the Indonesian military, an extracurricular in Indonesian schools, and a sport in the Southeast Asian games.
Techniques
Silat has many varied substyles. Some are more sport oriented, and take on a very karate-like system of striking. Others are more military/self defense oriented. Regardless of which focus it takes, most substyles of Pencak Silat have the same basic techniques including…
Kicks
Blocks and Traps
Knife Fighting
Knife Defense
Sweeps
Famous practitioners
Indonesian actor Iko Uwais, known for roles such as Rama in the The Raid duology, and Kai in the Netflix series Wu Assassins.
#martial arts#martial artist#indonesia#indonesien#nonfiction#silat#hand to hand combat#fighting#combat#Combat sports#self defense#self defense moves
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My Grandfather vs Sheriff Jones
The United States of America
February 1942
We were living in a small, rural farming village out in the desert. For the most part, things were quiet, and uninteresting. We went about our days, in peace, and went home.
But then, the Sheriff came with the bad news. He went to our part of town, the neighborhood of farm houses owned almost exclusively by the 5 or 6 Japanese families of the town, to tell us the news we had been told to expect but hoped wouldn’t.
“ATTENTION ALL JAPANESE!” Sheriff Jones shouted. “I’m here to inform you that you have 72 hours to settle all your affairs. After that, you will report to Casa Azul Relocation Camp.”
“What?” My grandfather asked. “This is an outrage. We have done nothing wrong. We had nothing to do with the attack on Pearl Harbor.”
Not many men in the county had what it took to stand up to the Sheriff. Sheriff Jones was a man you did not want to mess with. He may not have looked it, being at least 40 years old & quite overweight, but he was a skilled fighter. His weekend hobbies were boxing and wrestling. He was known to settle his disputes by challenging his enemies to fights (and he’d rarely if ever lose).
“Doesn’t matter.” The Sheriff said. “I have my orders, and you will either comply, or I will make you.”
He got back in his car and drove away. My grandfather, the community’s unofficial leader, turned and said “You heard the man, time to get ready.”
_______
My grandfather and I drove into the city to sell the last of our crop for the season. We truly had no idea what would become of our family farm while we were gone, but at least we could get one last batch of our pistachio crop to the market.
After dropping them off, a group of local young men approached us. Those three assholes were known for starting trouble, but generally stayed out of our way. But today, probably emboldened by the Sheriff’s news, they were even worse than normal.
“Hey, aren’t you guys supposed to be getting ready to get out of here?” One of them, I believe his name was Dwight, asked as he laughed to himself.
“What, you think this is funny?” My grandfather asked. “That we’re being separated from our homes, our whole lives being upended.”
“Yeah, I do.” Dwight replied. “I’m sure once you’re gone, your homes are gonna sell for dirt, and then, we can piss all over your…”
My grandfather then punched him, square in the face. Dwight then said “Looks like grandpa here wants to get hurt. Let’s give him what he wants.”
Dwight then came at him with a haymaker punch. My grandfather evaded it, dove in close, grabbed him by the arm, twisted around, and picked Dwight up only to slam him onto the ground.
Dwight’s friends came running over to help, but neither lasted long. My grandfather kicked one of them in the stomach, and punched the other in the face, knocking out both in just a few moments.
“What, that all you assholes got?” My grandfather sarcastically asked as he put Dwight in an armbar. “What, just a few seconds ago you were talking about pissing in my house, what happened?”
“Grandpa, I think they’ve had enough.” I said, as I started to get scared.
He let Dwight go and we went home.
____
“How did you do that?” I asked.
“I was waiting for the right time to tell you.” My grandfather said. “But I guess it’s now. When I was younger, I was the head sensei of a dojo, in Japan. Taught karate and judo. But one day, the Imperial Army attempted to buy me out, force me to train their army, forced me to get them ready for war. I took your mother, and we left Japan. Ended up here in America, where I put martial arts behind me.”
“Behind you? You need to stop the Sheriff?”
“Excuse me?” He asked.
“If any of us can beat him, you can.”
“Sorry honey, that’s not happening.” He said. “I’m sorry you had to see me fight today, but that’s not something I want to make a habit of.”
“But, you can do something. You can fight him, and you can win.”
“I guess we’ll never know.” He said.
And then, I lost my temper. “Fine, but when we lose everything, just know that you could have helped, but you chose not to.”
_____
On the day the bus came, my grandfather left early to talk to the Sheriff.
“Sheriff Jones, I have a challenge for you.” He announced. “I think you’ll find it interesting.”
The Sheriff’s face perked up like a kid given money to go to a candy store. “What kind of challenge?”
“A fight. Just you and me. No weapons, hand to hand only. I win, that bus turns around and you forget about your orders. You win, we all go peacefully.”
The Sheriff handed the deputy his weapons belt and said “You’re on. Deputy, start our match.”
_______
“In three…two…FIGHT!” The Deputy shouted, and just like that, they were at it.
The Sheriff began the fight by throwing a jab-jab-cross combo to my grandfather’s face. He blocked all the Sheriff’s punches, but then, the Sheriff dove in low and grabbed his leg. He then took him to the ground, and started pounding on him with his fists.
When the Sheriff thought my father was knocked out, he got up and said “Well, glad this was settled. Now, everyone get onto the bus or I’ll…”
However, the Sheriff was wrong. My grandfather picked himself up off the ground. The Sheriff turned and saw him, but it was too little too late; my grandfather had already begun his back leg sidekick, and came flying towards the Sheriff.
The Sheriff practically bent over in pain, giving my grandfather the perfect opportunity to knock him down with a hook kick. He then kicked him while on the ground, but the Sheriff got up, and began throwing a flurry of punches. My grandfather blocked most, but some of them landed, each one being a powerful blow. I could tell my grandfather couldn’t take much more of this.
“Did you really think you could win?” The Sheriff taunted as he continued throwing punches. “I respect your bravery, but just know that all of this will only make it even sweeter to finally evict all of you.”
Just as it looked like my grandfather had no strength left, he grabbed the Sheriff’s arms, and did a miraculous hip throw. Considering the Sheriff had at least 50 pounds on my grandfather, it was a sight that surprised us all.
While on the ground, my grandfather put the Sheriff that dislocated his arm. He then started kicking him, but the Sheriff blocked his foot, raised himself up, and threw a powerful hook that I would later find out broke my grandfather’s ribs.
I thought it was all over. But then, my grandfather summoned all his strength, and threw a roundhouse kick that knocked out Sheriff Jones. I almost felt bad for the Sheriff, I’m sure his jaw took a long time to recover.
“And there you have it.” My grandfather said to the now unconscious Sheriff.
He then turned to the people of his neighborhood and said “Looks like we’re staying home.”
#Original Work#original writing#original fiction#original story#action#action adventure#action story#short#short story#short fiction#martial arts#martial artist#judo#karate#boxing#wrestling#western#wild west
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#universal orlando#universalorlando#islands of adventure#themepark#universal studios#lost continent#the lost continent
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MrMonster’s Martial Arts Journey: Sanda
Country of Origin: China
History: Sanda (sometimes referred to as Wushu, Wushu Sanda, Sanda Kung Fu, Sanshou, or even simply Chinese Kickboxing) has roots in Chinese Lei tai fights, a brutal, 1000+ year old Chinese tradition of bare knuckle fights that often proved lethal.
When the Republic of China (1912-1949) wanted to develop a hand to hand combat system for their military in the 1920’s, they turned to lei tai to have a basis. However, there is one major problem inherent to any lethal martial art; it’s lethal. Studies show soldiers are significantly less useful if they die in basic training. So, they had to make it something safe enough to train, as well as add elements from imported martial arts like Western boxing and wrestling. Following the Chinese Communist Revolution, it not only became the PLA’s main system of martial arts training, but it has expanded beyond military use into becoming a sport with tournaments all over the world. While Communist regimes may not be good for much, as we’ve learned both here and in our previous entry (Sambo), they’ve undoubtedly given the world some unique and powerful martial arts.
Techniques
Sanda is both a striking and a grappling martial art, a fighter can win by either a knockout or a submission. Because of this, it has a wide variety of techniques. Some of the main ones include…
Hip throws
Double leg takedowns
Punches
Roundhouse kicks
Front kicks
Famous practitioners
MMA fighter Zhang Welli
MMA fighter Muslim Salikhov
Actor and MMA fighter Cung Le
#martial arts#martial artist#nonfiction#sanda#kung fu#chinese martial arts#hand to hand combat#fighting#Combat sports
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The Sound of the Infected
Location: the city formerly known as Austin, Texas
Time: 2024, one year post outbreak
Back when the outbreak began, Austin was ordered to evacuate, as all major cities were. Almost everyone complied, and those who weren’t were rounded up and forced to by the military. Everyone the government had on record was accounted for and pushed out of the city, whether they wanted to or not; but no one stopped to check to make sure that I, the blind homeless man living in an alley between a hotel and a convenience store, ever complied with the evacuation orders.
_____
I woke up in my shelter (a former hotel room), and my first feeling was the same one I felt every morning; hunger. So I put my braille copy of To Kill a Mockingbird back on my shelf (I had a bad habit of reading myself to sleep), and decided to go check on my traps, hoping I’d caught something to eat. If I was lucky I’d get a racoon or a possum, but if nothing else I was sure there’d be a rat or a pigeon.
I grabbed my mobility cane, strapped on my utility belt, and carefully opened the door to my room. I poked my head out, carefully listening to anything that might have been an infected. I hadn’t heard or smelled an infected in weeks, but you could never be too careful.
I didn’t hear anything, so I continued walking. Even though I had muscle memorized my way out of the building, I still held onto my wire just in case. I had long set up a series of wires in the building to always lead me back to my room if I got lost.
I unlocked the building’s front door, and once again listened for the infected. I heard nothing, so I pressed on. I could tell just by the feeling of heat on my skin that it was daytime, so I knew there’d be less infected wandering the streets. The infected preferred to be out at night, they only wandered during the day if they were really hungry.
I learned early on that if I stuck with the same buildings each time, animals would stop falling my traps after like, a week or so. But after a month or so, the wildlife would forget, and I’d be free to set up traps there again. So, I tried to change my locations at least every 3 or 4 days, and not use the same buildings for at least four weeks. Today the start of a new set up.
As I was approaching the building (I memorized how many steps it took to get there), I heard the one sound I wanted to hear the least; the low pitched snarl of an infected. And even if I couldn’t hear him, I could definitely smell him approaching. Most infected start to smell after a while, but this one was particularly rancid.
From the sound of it, it was alone. I waited for it to get closer, and could still only hear one footstep at a time, so I felt a bit lucky that it was a loner.
I drew my revolver, and waited for the infected to get closer. As he did, I isolated the sound of his growling; once I had a lock on his head, I aimed, and pulled the trigger.
I then checked to make sure I didn’t miss. I put away my gun and drew my machete, ready to fight it off if it was still alive. It wasn’t; I felt it’s lifeless body with my mobility cane, I knew it was dead.
I then continued towards the building where I laid my traps. Once inside, I ran my cane along the wall, checking the snares I laid out.
My first three snares were nothing. This was expected, not every single one could be a winner. But as I approached my fourth snare, I smelled something, so I knew I must have caught something. I felt it to take sure it had died; it did. So I put my plastic gloves on, and bent down to feel what it was; it was a racoon. I then put it in a plastic bag, tied it to my belt, and then moved on.
While I continued searching, I heard something else walk into the building. Then, I heard the growls, and knew it must have been infected. But it wasn’t just one this time, I could hear at least three growling mouths. And they were getting closer.
I couldn’t fight all three at once; there was no way I could isolate their sounds quickly enough to shoot with accuracy, and trying to fight them off with my machete would’ve been hopeless. So instead, I ran.
I found a door. I opened it. I then closed it behind me. But this wasn’t going to help me for long; the infected weren’t very smart, but they usually remembered enough of their old lives to do basic tasks like flipping light switches and opening doors.
While they stumbled towards the door, I wandered the room more. I found a staircase; this must have been the emergency stairwell. I started walking up, hoping I could lose the infected on another floor.
But then, as I was approaching the top floor, I could hear a loud pounding coming from above. Something was stumbling down the steps.
I drew my gun, and waited. I could only hear one snarl, so it must have been another loner. Once I isolated his sound, I fired, and could tell just by the sudden thud on the ground that I landed another shot.
But I didn’t have time to even catch my breath, because the other three infected were coming. I dashed up the steps, hoping to escape them.
I got to the next floor, and felt the walls until I found the door. I opened it, dashed past, and slammed it behind me. I then started feeling for a piece of furniture I could use to barricade the door.
I didn’t find anything, and I could hear the infected approaching. One of them opened the door, but before any could enter, I threw my entire body weight against it. I could tell something was caught in the door, probably an arm or a leg. While still pressed against the door, I pulled my machete, and started flailing. I must have hit something, because one of them screamed in pain and recoiled.
I quickly realized how futile it would be to try to hold them back much longer, so I sheathed my machete, drew my gun, and took a few steps backward. The moment I heard the door swing open, I opened fire. It would have been pointless to try to shoot them back in the lobby, but in a tight doorway where all three would be stumbling over themselves to push past, I knew I’d have to hit something.
I fired my four remaining shots as best I could, and then took off running. I had no idea how many I killed, and had no intent of waiting to find out the hard way.
The explosive sounds of the gunshots gave me temporary tinnitus. When it wore off, I could hear one set of footsteps and one snarling mouth stumbling after me.
I didn’t have time to reload my gun, and could tell by my cane that I reached the end of the hallway and had no idea where else to run. So I drew my machete and got ready for a fight.
As the infected got closer, I started flailing my machete. Most infected are smart enough to not run face first into a blade. It would instead circle me, hoping to catch me off guard.
I swung at it, but missed, and it grabbed my arm. This was bad, but not the end; it would be if it bit me, but a scratch wouldn’t infect me.
It then tried to pull me in close, probably to land a bite, but I quickly slashed it with my machete, and cut its arm clean off. It then howled in pain; that was good, it’s howl let me know exactly what it was. I then raised my machete and threw out one last slash, one that buried my blade in its skull.
I then paused and listened for any more infected. I heard none. I reloaded my gun, just to be safe, but still, I heard nothing.
With all that madness out of the way, I breathed a sigh of relief, checked to make sure my racoon was still where I left it, and started making my way back out. This was the hardest part of my new life; anytime I lost track of where I am, it’s a struggle to get back to a landmark. But thankfully, all I had to do was follow the hallway to the end and go back down the stairs to end up back in the lobby where I started.
I don’t know how long I’m going to make it living day by day in the ruins of my city. But at that moment, all I needed to know was that I was about to have dinner.
#story#Original Work#original writing#original fiction#original story#horror#horror fiction#short story#short#short fiction#short horror#short horror story#zombie#zombie story#post apocalypse#post apocalyptic
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Agent Jennifer Bryan: A Hostage Criss in Tel Aviv
by mrmonster
“I’ve got him.” I said.
“Jennifer, I’m begging you, just call the authorities.” My handler, Gregory Mithcell, said to me over our secured communications line. “He’s racked up more kills than most Navy SEALs, even you can’t…”
“I’ve got him.” I repeated as I went to engage my target, a known terrorist named Abdel Al Naijar.
Abdel Al Naijar was a particularly dangerous terrorist; born and raised in the middle of an active warzone in Syria, he learned to fight to survive from an early age. He had personally carried out at least four terrorist attacks in Israel for the group Al Muhima just in the past two years, and I had reason to believe he was planning even more.
Before I dive into this story, I should probably tell you more about what I was up to. I was in Tel Aviv, on behalf of the CIA, to help advise an Israeli politician on the foreground of a historic defensive treaty between Israel, Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, and other Middle Eastern as a joint effort against terrorism in the region. Only problem is that a lot of terrorist groups weren’t too happy, including Al Muhima. Worse, many were recieving funding and training from Iran, who saw the deal as a threat to Iran's power in the Middle East.
Al Muhima had carried out numerous attacks, warning that they would continue if any progress was made on the deal. While we didn’t have any solid evidence (for all we knew, it simply was terrorists just wanting to stop the deal for their own self interests), I knew deep down that Iran must be behind these attacks.
So anyway, when I finally found Abdel Al Naijar in the streets of Tel Aviv, I knew I had no choice but to engage. I didn’t have my gun on me, so I ran right up behind him, and punched him in the back of the head.
If it were most anyone else, I’m certain it would’ve been a knockout. But for him, he appeared to just shrug it off. Then, he grabbed me and threw me against a wall.
He pulled out a knife and tried to stab me. I evaded all his knife strikes, and then quickly countered by throwing a front kick right to his family jewels.
“You think you can hurt me.” He said. “I’ve been in pain since the moment I was brought into this world. You can’t even imagine the kind of brutality I’ve had to live with ever since I was a child.”
“You’re right, I can’t.” I said as I landed another punch. “But if you think I’m going to let you hurt anyone else, you’ve got another thing coming.”
I then grabbed him, pulled him in close, and tore his eye out with my index finger. Even he couldn’t withstand such excruciating pain. He pushed me aside, and started running away.
“This isn’t over!” He shouted. “I will kill you and every other American piece of shit in Tel Aviv.”
“You can try.” I said as I began to recover. “But when you do, I’ll put you in the ground.”
Once it was safe, I called my handler.
“He got away.” I said. “But with one less eye than he came with.”
“Good.” He said. “I’ve arranged for you to have a meeting with a Mossad counterterrorism agent.”
Mossad is Israel’s equivalent of the CIA; they’re an agency known for their effectiveness. I knew we could make serious groundwork on the case working with them.
A few minutes later, I was picked up in an armored van and taken to the office of a Mossad Agent.
“Good morning; I’m Josef Cohen, Special Agent, Mossad.” He introduced.
“Hi, thank you, I’m Jennifer Bryan, CIA.” I said.
“I heard you had an encounter with Abdel Al Naijar earlier.” He
remarked.
“Yes, I did.” I replied. “He was tough, but I forced him to retreat after I gouged out one of his eyes.”
“My word.” He said. “You really know what you’re doing.”
He continued “I’ve heard you’ve been advising Congressman Elias Mizrahi on the terms of the defense deal.”
“Yes, I have.” I said. “And we’ve made good progress. Just yesterday, we sat down with a Saudi Arabian general to hammer out the terms of the deal’s military spending commitments.”
“Excellent.” He said. “Congressman Mizrahi is actually on this way right now, I called his office an hour ago. I normally couldn’t get a Congressman on such short notice, but when I explained how urgent things were becoming, he agreed to meet with us.”
This was all well and good…until we heard an explosion coming from the hallway.
We then heard shouting in Arabic; I don’t speak Arabic, but Josef told me “They’re saying ‘Go in, go in.’”
“Congressman Mizrahi, go to safety.” I said as I drew my weapon.
There was running and shouting down the hall, but not for long. That was quickly drowned out by a few bursts of gunfire.
Elias and I checked our weapons and then dashed out, only to find Abdel, three of his goons, and two civilians with guns pointed right at their foreheads.
“Lower your weapons.” Abdel said. “Or these two get what they deserve.”
Elias and I had no choice. We couldn’t allow a pair of civilian workers to get hurt, so we lowered our handguns.
Only then, in one of the most coldhearted displays of violence I’ve ever seen, Abdel turns around, and shoots both of the hostages himself.
“Kill the agents.” He said to his men.
I then pulled a second, hidden handgun out of my boot holster, and shot two of the terrorists. Elias charged the third, disabling him with a punch before he could fire his weapon. Now, it was just us and Abdel.
Abdel took off running, and fired at us as he ran. While he dashed down the hallway, I fired back, and hit him in the arm. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop him.
“Jesus, this dude is invincible.” I said.
“Come, quickly.” Elias said as he picked his handgun back up. “We have to save Mr. Mizrahi.”
When Abdel saw that we were approaching, he began firing at us. Elias and I took cover, and fired back. I quickly ran out of the little ammo I still had, but Elias didn't. Unfortunately, Abdel got lucky and took out Elias's leg.
"Are you alright?" I asked.
"I'll be fine." He said as he tied his jacket around his wound. "Call an ambulance for me later, go save the Congessman."
I dashed down the hallway, knowing Abdel could find Mizrahi any second.
"Come on out!" Abdel shouted. "Or this hostage is gonna die."
"Alright, I'm here." Congrssman Mizrahi said as he left his hiding spot. "Please, do whatever you want to me, just don't kill her."
Abdel then killed the hostage anyway. He killed her for nothing; he killed her just to kill her.
I charged him from behind, slamming him against a wall with all my force. Then, I put him in a chokehold.
The Congressman showed a lot of bravery for a civilian. He grabbed a stapler off of a desk, and hit Abdel over the head with it. It was a good try, but Abdel then struck him twice as hard across his jawline. Then, he got back to trying to escape my chokehold. He dropped to the floor, landing on top of me. He then pulled my arm off his neck, and started punching from on top.
I created distance by pushing off his knee, grabbed him by the fact, and slammed his head against the floor. And then, I did it again. Finally, I did it a third time to ensure he was finished.
As he was dying, I whispered “Before you go, I want you to know that you completely failed.” I explained. “You came here to stop the deal. But you did the opposite; thanks to you, the entire Middle East will see how vital this deal is.”
Both Special Agent Elias and Congressman Mizrahi were fine. Their wounds were only minor, they were both expected to make a full recovery in just a matter of weeks, maybe days.
“Thank you Ms. Bryan.” Elias said as I visited him in the hospital. “If not for you, Mr. Mizrahi would be dead.”
“I'm just glad the deal will survive.” I said as I left the hospital. My work in Tel Aviv was done, I was off to a new mission.
"Oh, and by the way, the CIA has uncovered evidence that Al Muhima has been directly funded by Iran." I said. "News of this will only make the other signatory countries see this deal as inevitable."
#Original Work#original writing#original fiction#original story#short#short story#short fiction#spy#spy story#action adventure#action#action story
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Got art of my gorgon OC Veronica from @saiscribbles
Thanks again :)
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Agent Jennifer Bryan: Tragedy in Bogota
“We’ve scheduled for you to meet with an agent of Colombia’s National Intelligence Directorate.” My handler explained to me as I was leaving the airport.
I was in Bogota because our informants in the Caracas Cartel, the most powerful drug cartel operating out of Venezuela, told us that the cartel boss himself, Marco Rodriguez, was planning some kind of attack on civilians in Bogota, Colombia’s capital city. And I wanted to be there to stop it.
____________
I was taken from the airport straight to a meeting room at Colombia's NID headquarters.
"Buenos días." I said upon meeting NID special agent Maria Sanchez. "¿Prefieres español o Inglés?"
"From you, English." She answered. I didn't see a problem with my Spanish, but I decided not to make a big deal out of it.
“As I’m sure you’re aware, we have intelligence that the Caracas Cartel is working with…”
Moments later, a man barged into the room.
“Sorry, but this meeting is over.” He said.
“I’m sorry sir, but who are…”
“Ricardo Garcia, Director of Intelligence.” He said. “Now leave this building at once before I have security escort you out.”
“Sir, I have valuable information concerning…”
"Don't want to hear it." Director Garcia said. "I don't trust the CIA. Now again, if you do not immediately start leaving this building, security will escort you out."
I had no choice. I packed my things and I left the building. Moments after I did, Agent Sanchez called me.
“I’m very sorry about the Director.” She explained. “He’s very distrusting of the USA, especially your CIA. He believes that your organization’s history in Latin America means you cannot be trusted.”
“Look, I’ll admit that the CIA has historically not done good things in the region.” I said. “But I’m here to help, there has to be some way to get through to him.”
__________________
Almost immediately after entering my hotel room, I was attacked from behind.
“Leave Colombia.” My attacker told me, in Spanish. “The only reason you’re not dead already is because a dead CIA agent raises questions. Make up whatever excuse you need to, but be back in the US soon or you will die. Understand?””
I said “Yes.”
“Good.” He continued before letting me go and pushing me to the ground. Then, he sprinted out of my hotel room.
_________
"Agent Sanchez, I'm in what I fear to be grave danger." I said. “I was just attacked in my hotel room, and told that I’d be killed if I remained in Colombia any longer.”
“Are you safe now?” Agent Sanchez asked.
“Yes, but I fear my situation might change. Is there anything you can do to help me?”
“There’s a safehouse downtown.” She explained. “It’s a butcher shop, Carne por Rodriguez. Go there and ask for a wagyu strip steak, they’ll know exactly what you’re talking about.”
“Understood.” I said as I started searching for the location on Google Maps.
______________
I found the location without much difficulty, and after saying the pass phrase, was allowed into the back, into a well guarded room with multiple agents working at computers.
“What danger are you in?” I was asked, in English. I was kind of glad we were putting the formalities on hold and getting straight to the important part.
“I believe I’m being targeted by the Caracas Cartel.” I said. “I came here to Colombia to brief one of your NID agents on a potential threat from the Caracas Cartel, and when I arrived at my hotel room, someone was waiting there to attack me.”
“Interesting.” An agent said. This agent was a tall man whose most defining feature was a very thick mustache. “I’m Special Agent Ruiz. And you?”
“Special Agent Jennifer Bryan, CIA.” I replied.
“This reminds me of a similar attack we had to deal with just a month ago.” He said. “One of our agents from Medellin barely escaped alive after being choked half to death in a motel room he was using. Only reason he survived is because a housekeeper knocked on the door before the assassin could finish him off.”
“Any leads on who the attacker might be?”
“Very little.” He said. “We got an image of him off a CCTV camera, but that’s it.”
He then pulled up an image for me on his computer screen, and my immediate thought was “That’s him. I know it.”
“Good.” Agent Ruiz said.
“We have to start looking for him while we at least know he must be in the area.”
“Unfortunately, I cannot allow you to do that.” Agent Ruiz said. “We’re under orders not to work with any CIA agents.”
Before I could say anything else, he said “We can keep you safe here, just like we can be a safe haven to any witnesses who need it. But we cannot work with you.”
“Alright, goodbye then.” I said as I grabbed my things and started to leave.
“Ms. Bryan, I’d prefer you stay here.” He said.
“Yeah, and I’d prefer stopping whatever threat is coming from the Caracas Cartel.” I said as I left the safehouse.
_________________
At first, I thought about how to find the mysterious hitman, but then it occurred to me; why track him down when I knew he was the one who wanted me gone. In other words, I could use myself as bait. I just needed some help.
“Agent Bryan, are you alright?” Agent Sanchez asked after she picked up the phone.
“Yes, I’m fine.” I said. “I just…I need your help. I know you were told not to work with me, but if we don’t work together, lives could be lost.”
She paused for a moment before saying “Alright, what do you need?”
“I’m planning to use myself to lure out whoever wants me to leave.” I said. “I’ll be the bait, you be the trap.”
“Fine.” She said. “Where do you want to meet?”
“I can’t think of a better place than in front of your headquarters.” I said.
__________
I was praying this would work. I had a bad feeling that this was going to end with me getting shot from half a block away, but still, this was the only way I thought of to get the jump on the cartel.
And my plan worked. As I was approaching the building, a car pulled up beside me, and a man stepped out carrying an Uzi submachine gun. I would’ve died, if Agent Sanchez weren’t there with a pepper gel canister that immediately immobilized him.
The driver got away, but the wannabe shooter didn’t. Instead, Agent Sanchez grabbed him, threw him against a wall, and said “Unless you want me to hurt you, really bad, you’re gonna tell us everything the Caracas Cartel is planning.”
When he still didn’t talk, she said “My friend here is a CIA agent. One
phone call from her, and you’re spending the rest of your life in one of America’s deepest, darkest prisons like Guantanamo Bay or Florence ADX. Or maybe we can let you stay here in a Colombian prison, where you can get things like daylight, family visits, and food that has flavor. What’ll it be?”
Our new friend hesitated for a minute, and then said “Nicolas Maduro, the Dictator of Venezuela, has ordered us to carry out the assassination of a crew of Colombian journalists who’ve spent months investigation his administration’s links to our syndicate. Only thing is, we can’t make it look like an attack on them, we have to make it look like a random act of violence that they were unlucky enough to find themselves in the crossfire.”
“So what’s the plan?”
“The plan is to have a bombing at a cafe where the journalists are known to work out of.” He continued. “One that’ll kill basically everyone on the street at the time.”
“Where’s the cafe?”
“Columbus Boulevard.” He said. “But you’ll never get there in time, it’ll go off any minute now.”
“We’ll see about that.” I said as Agent Sanchez and I took off running.
Once we got to the cafe, we saw my would-be assassin from the hotel idling inside a car, constantly looking around. As we approached, he saw us.
“Shit.” I shouted as I started firing at his car.
He stepped out of the vehicle, and then began shooting at us with an AK-47. At this point, almost everyone around was panicking and running, but that didn’t stop a few from becoming collateral damage.
“SHIT!” I shouted after watching him mercilessly mow down two civilians just to get a clear shot at me.
I ran for cover behind a taxi, and continued firing at him. Only thing is, I was careful not to shoot through any civilians, he was not. He continued firing at me, no matter how many innocents were in his line of fire.
“I have an idea.” Agent Sanchez whispered. “When I lay some cover fire to distract him, you dash towards the suv across the street. From there, you should have the chance to take him out.”
“Understood.” I whispered back.
When our attacker stopped to reload, Agent Sanchez briefly left cover to fire at him. While she didn’t land any shots, she gave me the perfect opportunity to sprint towards a better position. And once I had the SUV as cover, I was able to quickly take out the hitman.
______________________
From there, there wasn’t much to tell. The authorities called in a bomb squad to handle the weapon; other Caracas Cartel hitmen were captured, including the one Agent Sanchez interrogated outside of her hq. But there was just one loose end I had to tie up before leaving Colombia. Thanks to our efforts, Colombia was closer than ever to finally getting solid leads that could someday mean the arrest of Marco Rodriguez. There was just one thing I had to do before leaving Colombia.
“Director Garcia, you are under arrest for criminal conspiracy.” Agent Sanchez explained as a pair of Colombian federal officers were escorting the former director out of his office, in handcuffs. “If you’re wondering how we figured it out, Agent Bryan decided to do some digging into the bank statements of the men who tried to kill her, and she realized that many of them had received payments from your offshore accounts.”
He didn’t say a word as he was escorted out. “Thanks again, Agent Bryan.” Agent Sanchez told me as I made my way towards my taxi. Now that I had finished my business in Colombia, I was headed home.
“You’re very welcome.” I said. “You’re the first one I’ll call with any new information on Marco Rodirguez or Nicolas Maduro.”
“Deal.”
#Original Work#original writing#original fiction#original story#spy#spy story#spy stuff#colombia#cia#femme fatale#action#action adventure#action story#Adventure#adventure story#fiction#short fiction#fiction writing
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MrMonster's Martial Arts Journey: Sambo
Country of Origin: Russia
History: In the 1920s, the Soviet Union’s interior ministry wanted to create a style of hand-to-hand combat that would aid The Red Army on the battlefield. Russian martial artists Viktor Spiridonov and Vasili Oshchepkov were given the task of combining the best techniques from several martial arts, including judo, Japanese jiu-jitsu, and catch wrestling to create a martial art that would make their soldiers unstoppable in any close quarters combat situation, and sambo was the end result. Even after the dissolution of The USSR, sambo continues to be practiced by The Russian Federation’s armed forces, and is now a popular sport practiced around the world.
Techniques
As both a striking and grappling martial art, sambo has a wide variety of techniques. The main ones include, but are not limited to,…
Leg Locks
Body Throws
Casting Punches
Famous practitioners
Undefeated UFC champion Khabib Nurmagomedov
Keanu Reeves, who trained sambo for the John Wick film franchise
Russian dictator president Vladimir Putin
#sambo#martial arts#martial artist#russia#mma#mmafighter#ufc#fitness#combat#combat sports#nonfiction
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Agent Jennifer Bryan: An Assassin in Taipei
“8:27 AM, suspect on the move.” I said into my recording device.
After spending two weeks in Taipei, Taiwan, tracking the whereabouts of a Taiwanese congressman believed to have connections to a powerful Taiwanese triad, I couldn’t have been more bored. So far, he’d done nothing out of the ordinary.
But then, right as he was leaving his apartment building, a man emerged from a car parked on the street and shot him multiple times with a silenced handgun.
“Shit!” I said to myself. First, I quickly used the camera embedded in my sunglasses to get a picture of the attacker. Then, I ran out of my stakeout spot to confront the assassin.
As he was trying to get away, I ran up to him and kicked him in the back. He fell and dropped his gun. He then reached into his pocket and pulled out a switchblade. But before he could use it on me, I fired a quick shot of pepper spray into his eyes from a hidden canister embedded in my lipstick. It wasn’t enough to disable him, but it was definitely enough to make him fight sloppy.
He tried slashing me with the knife, but I repeatedly parried it away. Then, once I got a good opening, I hit him across the face with a powerful elbow strike.
He stumbled back, and then turned with a lighting fast stab that I barely blocked. It cut my arms pretty bad, but a cut-up arm is a lot better than a cut-up face.
I then backed up, and started going on the defensive. If he got in too close, I'd create distance using side kicks.
Moments later, we heard people coming, so the mysterious assassin threw a flash bang onto the ground and made a quick escape.
___________________
I got a call from my handler shortly after.
“We IDed the guy from the photos.” He said. “His name is Chen Li, and he’s an agent of China’s Ministry of State Security.”
"I know you're not gonna like this, but I'm putting you under orders not to engage him." My handler said. "He's one of the world's most feared assassins. You’re lucky to even be alive right now, I doubt you’ll be so lucky a second time."
"Understood." I replied. However, I had no plans on following those orders. If he was so dangerous, I knew I had to find him before he could hurt anyone else. So I planned to use the tracking device I stealthily implanted on him during the fight to find him.
______
I tracked him down to a fish market. As I was looking for the specific building he might have been in, until I felt a firm knife pressed against my hip.
“Don’t move.” someone whispered.
I considered obeying him. But then I realized that doing so would probably get me killed. So instead, I stepped back and drove my elbow right into his stomach.
He tried to stab me, but I parried his arm, and then started running away. Unfortunately, just a few moments later, I was surrounded by four guys, and they captured me.
Next thing I knew, I was in the back of a van, and there was a chloroform rag against my face.
______
I woke up chained to a wall.
"Good afternoon." He said.
"What do you want?" I asked.
"Honey, you're more than I could ever want." He said. "Our plan will go so much better, knowing we have a CIA agent we can blame for everything."
"You see, by the end of the day, Taiwan's government will be in ruins. We were gonna blame it on the triads, but blaming it on the CIA will be so much better. And by tomorrow, the Ministry of State Security's plans will be set in motion to reduce Taiwan to a puppet state."
It sounded like a good plan. But there’s one slight thing he didn’t account for; the fact that I had a hidden pin in my sleeve, one with a strong acid that could melt through chains.
The moment I was free, I dove right for him. Before he could even scream, I had him in a chokehold. Once I was sure he was unconscious and couldn’t cause anymore trouble, I frisked him for weapons. I found a 9mm in his side pocket; it wasn’t ideal, but it would do. I also found the agent's phone, which I took.
I left the room we were in to find myself in a fish packaging warehouse. Once I was seen, someone shouted “SHE”S FREE, GET HER!” in Mandarin, so I started shooting. They retreated, and I dashed towards the front exit. I didn’t stop running until I was at least a block or two away.
________________
I checked the phone, and found their plans in an open text chain. Thankfully, I could read Mandarin as well as speak it. It revealed that Chen Li was planning to kill the Taiwanese President from an office building overlooking the Taiwanese Capital.
And he was planning to do it within the hour, so I knew I had to act quick. I ran to the building, and raced up the stairs to find the room he was using on the fifth floor.
And then, I found him. Sitting at a windowsill, with a rifle that looked like it could make a shot from a mile away. And he looked like he was about to fire.
I ran up behind him, and before he could even react, I slammed my fist into the back of his head. From there, I put him in a rear naked choke.
He pulled me over his shoulder and body slammed me to the ground. From there, he started punching me. I retracted my legs to cover my torso, and then pushed him away with a powerful kick.
I then shot in for a double leg takedown. Once I had control over his legs, I hoisted him over the windowsill, and dropped him out, watching as he plummeted to his death from five stories up.
______
Shortly after the fight, I got a call from my handler.
"Taiwanese authorities have apprehended the spies working out of the fish plant." He explained. "Congratulations Jennifer, you've single handedly undone a six year operation by the Chinese government to ruin Taiwan."
"Does this mean I'm not in trouble for disobeying you?" I asked.
"Yes." He said. "I'm sorry I doubted you, your instincts saved a whole country today."
"Unfortunately, you don't have long to celebrate. The president wants you in Bogota by tomorrow. We’ve intercepted reports that a Venezuelan cocaine boss is planning something big in Colombia.”
"I'm on my way to the airport right now."
#Original Work#original writing#original fiction#original story#spy#spy story#spy stuff#action#action adventure#action story#femme fatale
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MrMonster’s Martial Arts Journey 1: Capoeira
Country of Origin: Brazil
History: On Brazil’s 17th century sugar plantations, slaves had few options if they wanted to learn how to fight. Their masters would punish any attempt to learn any form of fighting, so what were slaves to do? Create a martial art that could be disguised as a dance.
Capoeira allowed for slaves to teach themselves how to fight, but in a way that onlookers would brush aside as a simple dance routine. Overtime, Capoeira became its own subculture with music and dance, but its primary focus remains as a striking art.
Techniques
Capoeira is known for a variety of fast and fluid kicking techniques, including…
Meia Lua de Compasso, a spinning heel kick
Martelo, a variation of the roundhouse kick
Armada, a spinning crescent kick
And of course, there is ginga, capoeira's footwork meant to confuse and distract opponents, while setting up opportunities for strikes.
Famous practitioners
Multiple MMA fighters including Anderson Silva, Thiago Santos, and Jose Aldo.
Actor and stuntman Lateef Crowder
https://youtu.be/VePy7-kPAys
https://youtu.be/xOH8B9BFBvg
https://youtu.be/0hy7lnsUb4M
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I just- I just rewatched princess and the frog for the 20th time… they are my favorite couple 🥺🥺🥺🥺💖💖💖
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Samson’s Pit
Location: Orlando, Florida
“And now, put your hands together for…SWAMPY!” the show’s host shouted through his microphone.
I then walked onto the stage, in an alligator costume, ready to dance around and take photos with the kids. Which, on a 95 degree summer day, was really not a lot of fun.
I was working a summer job at Gatorworld, a shitty theme park just a few miles outside of DisneyWorld, meant to leech off DisneyWorld’s tourists. After an hour where kids were shown snakes, snapping turtles, and even a cougar, I was sent out in a big hot Gator costume, so all the kids could get their moment with Swampy.
______
It was the last show of the day. I thought I could just pack up and leave, and was really hoping to. There was a tropical storm heading to Orlando that night, and I wanted to be indoors when it happened.
After I got out of the gator costume, my supervisor came up to me and said “Hey Samantha, Brennan just called me, he’s stuck in the mother of all traffic jams trying to get back into the city, he doesn’t know when he’ll be here. Do you think you can feed the gators?”
Brennan was our local animal handler, and a pretty damn good one. He was jacked as a professional wrestler, and had a command voice that would make even our meanest animals shut up and sit still.
“Sure thing, Mr. Gutierez.” I said as I went to get the gator food. As much as I wanted to get home, I figured feeding the gators wouldn’t take too long.
_______
It was simple; I was supposed to take raw beef/pork patties, and throw them around the area we called “The Pit.”
The Pit was the focal point of our park; it was a fourteen hundred square foot outdoor exhibit home to twenty-three alligators, including our main attraction, Samson.
Samson was twelve feet long, and weighed over eleven hundred pounds. He was the nastiest, most aggressive gator in the whole park. And he was the one tourists would come from all over the United States to come see.
“Ugh.” I said to myself as I opened one of the plastic barrels full of the mostly expired meat discs. It smelled like a dumpster on a hot day, and so strong I had a gag reflex. It was supposed to take just a few minutes, but then, my watch flew off my wrist when I was throwing a meat patty, and flew all the way into the pit.
“Damn it.” I said. My boyfriend got me that watch, I couldn’t leave it. I unlocked a ladder, hoping I could just lower myself into the pit, grab it, and get back out before anyone saw me.
But then, as I was about halfway down, I heard the sudden creak of the ladder breaking off its bolts. I don’t know what made the ladder so loose; I don’t know if it was storm damage, or if the damn screws had just rusted off, but for whatever reason, the ladder had broken, and I fell ten feet into the pit.
I landed in a two foot puddle of water. I quickly picked myself up and stumbled towards the nearest patch of land in the Pit. I grabbed my walkie talkie, but it didn't work. Must have been damaged in the fall.
"Shit." I said to myself. "HELP! HELP, I'M STUCK DOWN HERE!" I tried shouting, but no one was around to hear. All the guests had already gone home, and the remaining staff were doing their jobs in other areas of the park.
I couldn’t get back up the ladder, that would be impossible. My only hope of getting out of there would be to get to one of the Pit’s extraction doors.
There were four doors at the bottom level of the Pit, doors that would allow us to safely get in and extract gators that needed medical attention. And now, it was my only hope of getting out of that pit. Only problem was that none of them were near the island I landed on, so I had to wade through the murky water.
____
When I reached a nearby patch of land, I breathed a sigh of relief, thinking I was safe when I turned around and saw gators were continuing to help themselves to the crap I had already thrown into the pit. But then, my heart sank when I saw something crawl out of the water.
“Shit.” I said as Samson started crawling towards me.
The rest of the gators may have been happy to munch on the expired meat we got for pennies on the dollar from Wal-Mart, but Samson clearly wanted something more fresh.
“Hey buddy.” I said as I stepped back away from him. The only weapon I had on me was the box cutter I used to open the meat barrel, I couldn’t possibly fight him off if he attacked.
Which is exactly what he did. Moments later, he lunged at me. I turned and started running for a tree. If I couldn’t fight him, I could at least try to escape him.
I got to the tree and hoisted myself up with just seconds to spare. Samson was barreling towards me, he would have caught up to me if I had been even a little slower.
After unsuccessfully trying to snap at me, Samson gave up and retreated back into the water; but I knew he was still out there, waiting.
Worse, almost immediately after I climbed the tree, it started raining. Which meant the storm was imminent. I had to worry if I wanted to escape getting caught in the wind and rain.
_____
I could see one of the extraction doors. The emergency outdoor unlock lever would probably get me inside, but I would still have to get past Samson.
I threw a stick in the water. Samson took the bait and rose up to attack it, thinking it was an animal that landed in his pit. I used the opportunity to jump down from the tree, and run.
I dashed towards the extraction door, and pulled the lever as hard as I could. I loosened it, but couldn't get it all the way, and didn’t have a lot of time once Samson noticed what I was doing.
“Shit.” I said to myself before desperately trying to get to another tree. This time, I didn't make it; Samson ran up to me and got a hold of my leg.
“AHHH!” I shouted in pain. I then turned and stabbed him in the face with my box cutter. When it barely punctured his scales, I leaned in and got him in the eye.
That made him let go of me and retreat. I then crawled towards another tree, and once again pulled myself up to keep away from Samson.
___
The rain was getting worse; it was difficult to even see straight without focusing. I knew I needed to escape, and fast, or else I’d be a goner.
I jumped as far as I could, and dashed towards the gate. I pulled the lever, and this time I pulled all the way down. I then opened the hatch, and crawled inside.
I thought I was safe; I thought I could close the door, grab the emergency rifle, and get to safety. But then, I tried to shut the hatch, desperately hoping that I had escaped Samson. But then, right as I was closing the door, something blocked it. A snout blocked it.
“Shit.” I muttered to myself as Samson muscled his way into the room.
I didn’t have time to grab the rifle. Instead, I quickly opened one of the room’s gator kennels, and slid myself inside. Those things could hold alligators up to nine feet long, so I had enough room. Samson tried banging on the glass, but he couldn’t get to me.
And just when I thought the situation couldn’t get any worse, water began draining in from the hatch. The storm was creating a flood in the pit, a flood that was spilling over into the extraction room.
____
I waited for what felt like an eternity. I truly don’t know if it was two minutes or twenty, at that point, my brain was going a million miles an hour. I finally got grounded again when Brennan walked in, distracted by his walkie talkie. “Shit, one of the extraction doors opened, the whole room is…”
“BRENNAN, STOP!” I shouted right before Samson bit into his leg.
There was nothing he or I could do to save him. Samson dragged him down, and began devouring him alive.
I burst out of the kennel, and ran to grab the rifle. “Son of a bitch.” I muttered to myself before firing at Samson.
I hit him in the back; I clearly hurt him, but not enough to kill. Samson then came back and charged at me; I crawled onto a table, and took another shot.
My shots were clearly hurting him, but he wasn’t dead yet. He then threw his body weight against the table, knocking me off of it.
He then charged at me, mouth wide open. But split seconds before he could reach me, I fired, and my shot landed right in his mouth. He then dropped on the floor, his face landing just inches from mine.
I then found the walkie talkie and radioed.
“Mr. Gutierez, it’s me, Samantha. I need help, my leg is real bad, call an ambulance.”
______
He ran down there to help me out of there. He did the best he could with our first aid kits while we waited on the paramedics. Thankfully, my leg wasn’t as bad as I thought, they told me I was gonna make a quick recovery.
I left Gatorworld at the end of the summer. I don’t have any ill will against the park; it was, after all, my decision to go for my watch. But I am glad that Samson is no more.
#short#short fiction#short story#short horror story#alligator#themepark#florida#Original Work#original writing#original fiction#story#original story#short horror#animal#animals#state of florida
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