Post by Jude Liang on Sept 28, 2015 20:48:47 GMT -5
[OoC: Qi purchase thread here. Prefer stats (+5 WIS) for the AH portion.]
46. 47. 48. This was the 48th pushup of this set. A loose droplet of sweat dripped from Jude’s forehead and onto the asphalt beneath him. The ground had left the imprint of small stones on his hands, from all the pressure. 49. 50. Jude gave a short exhalation and stood up. He then wiped the sweat from his brow using the back of his hand. This type of workout was never his cup of tea, but recent events had convinced him of the necessity to get in shape. Unfortunately, his aching muscles screamed at his brain in disagreement. Jude massaged his triceps as if to quell their resistance and to quiet them.
The sun had already set for the day, and the area around Jude was empty, as usual. No one would have any reason to be in this abandoned parking lot unless they were up to something fishy. Jude found this observation amusing, as it would mean that he himself was up to no good. A high school boy furiously kicking the air in the dark wouldn’t look too innocent or mentally stable. But Jude could care less. He was here for himself, to toughen his body for hardships to come. Mind over matter was how the old saying went. Jude’s mind was fantastic at just about everything, except convincing his body to work hard. So, he was especially proud of himself for maintaining this training regime for—he counted in his head—nearly 6 weeks now.
Next in today’s workout was hand strengthening. For this, Jude usually brought a bag of rice to the lot as a weight, and then opened it up for the hand training. He placed the bag directly in front of him, on top of a fairly sized rock he had found. He then raised his right arm up with the elbow up and fingers pointing at the bag’s open mouth. Never had rice seemed more threatening. Jude inhaled. On the exhale, he plunged his rigid hand into the rice. The friction still left a burning sensation on his skin despite the layer of tough skin that had started to form on his fingers. Jude pulled his right hand out and inhaled, with his left arm already cocked. Exhale, left hand in. Inhale, left hand out. Exhale, right hand in. And so on.
Right when Jude was ready to call it quits, he heard several voices that seemed to be approaching the parking lot. Jude remembered what he had thought about shady business in this abandoned place. Whoever the voices belonged to, it was likely that they weren’t here for a midnight workout. Jude grabbed the bag of rice and dashed over to the remains of an old car. Now that he was out of sight, he could keep an eye out for these mysterious newcomers. Jude watched through the driver and passenger windows of the junk car and counted five people coming out of the distant shadows. Three of them were at least six feet tall, male, and dressed in black button downs and slacks. Two of these men were pushing another older and shorter man who had his hands behind his back. The last tall man was doing the same to a boy who couldn’t have been more than 10 or 11 years old. Jude felt his heart rate rise. This didn’t look good.
“Spit it out, old man!” tall man #1 demanded, and pushed the older man into a lamppost. Tall man #2 added, “Just give it up. There’s no point in resisting. We’re here to get the goods, not to bother you or this youngster.” He nodded towards the small boy. Tall man #3 remained silent with his hands on the boy’s shoulder. The older man had several bruises on his face, and he was bleeding from the nose. He replied to tall man #1, “I told you, I don’t know. Even if I did, I wouldn’t be able to tell you! Just let us go, please. I’ll give you anything else you ask for.” The boy was silent and most likely in shock. His eyes were wide open and full of tears.
Jude gritted his teeth as he watched this dialogue unfold. He could have cared less about what the black-clothed men wanted, or even whether the older man was seriously hurt. Jude was more concerned about how he would get out of the parking lot without drawing attention to himself. So why did he still feel a pang of guilt? This wasn’t like him. Jude’s way was to steer clear of trouble and walk away from situations that might turn sour. He was most certainly not the defender of innocence, caped crusader, or white knight type. Shaking his head, Jude grabbed his bag and prepared to stealthily exit the scene.
At the same moment, Jude heard the sickening thud of bone slamming into flesh. He turned his head to the source of the noise. Tall man #1 had moved on to coercion by force, landing several hard punches into the older man’s gut. Moral righteousness aside, this made Jude squirm. He was well acquainted with the sting of flying fists. It was a type of pain that he preferred not to experience or give to others. The young boy began to wail, “No…stop! Papa! Please, stop hitting Papa!” This exclamation went straight into Jude’s ears, and pierced his heart. Tonight, this boy might lose his father. The pain of that loss would overshadow the pain of a thousand punches. Jude had never lost his father, but losing Uncle might as well have been one and the same. If Jude walked away from this situation, it would mean walking away from his own predicament years ago.
Suffice it to say that there wouldn’t be any walking away any time soon, at least not until the boy and his father were safe. Jude had made the crucial decision to get involved. And once Jude deliberately involved himself with anyone or anything, it would take a substantial amount of convincing to stop him. After taking a brief moment to formulate a plan, Jude cradled his rice bag in his arms and made for the cover of darkness. Then, he carefully travelled through the unlit areas of the lot, using lampposts and shrubs as cover. Gradually, he got closer to the lamppost where the older man was held. Jude’s idea was simple: strike from the rear to take the three men by surprise. If all went well, Jude would at least have fighting odds. Regardless, he could never be too careful. ‘No battle plan survives contact with the enemy.’
19, 18, 17. Jude silently counted the number of feet between him and his target as he slowly closed the distance. 13, 12, 11. Jude picked up the rock that he had used as a pedestal for the rice bag. Speaking of the rice, he had grabbed a few handfuls of it and stored them in his pockets. 8, 7, 6. He was now entering audible range. This was the danger zone, so to speak. Tall men #1 and #2 were still occupied with working on the older man. Their yells and punches provided ample camouflage for Jude’s footsteps. Tall man #3 was closer to Jude, with the boy in front of him. 3, 2, 1.
Jude swallowed his saliva and swung the rock with both hands. It cleanly smashed into tall man #3’s head. He collapsed with a weak croak. The boy was the first to notice this, and he turned around with a look of confusion on his face. Jude would have liked to say a few words to this boy, but time was of the essence. Dropping the rock, he bolted past the boy and towards the other tall men that had just seen their accomplice fall to the floor. Jude released a handful of rice into each of the tall men’s faces. A poor smokescreen, but it would have to do. As the men brought their hands up to shield themselves from the sudden shower of rice grains, Jude ducked down and threw a hard left straight into tall man #2’s family jewels. Jude nearly winced in sympathy, but composed himself to launch a follow-up right stomp kick to the outside of the man’s left knee. By this time, both enemies had recovered from the distraction. Jude burst past tall man #2’s weak defense and quickly hit a one two punch into his solar plexus.
As tall man #2 went down, tall man #1 rushed Jude from his left. He wasn’t too happy about how their little interrogation had turned into a bilateral altercation. Tall man #1 threw a right hook at Jude’s temple. He must have been fueled by rage, because the attack was fast and fierce. Jude snapped his torso backwards, barely out of the hook’s range. He could have sworn he felt the wind from that one. The angry man continued to barrel forward, attempting a left-handed, wild haymaker. Jude recognized the opening when the man’s hand swung back in preparation. Changing gears, he darted forward and launched a vertical punch to tall man #1’s neck. As expected, Jude’s strike made impact before the man’s. The tall man tried to clear his airway by coughing, but Jude was relentless. He approached the now defenseless adversary and grabbed his shoulders. Two knees to the groin and the man was down.
Deep breaths, deep breaths. Jude had to consciously force air in and out of his heaving lungs. All the action had taken a toll on his stamina. It didn’t help that he had already tired himself out from the earlier workout. But this was worth it. Jude looked at the older man, and then the boy. They would be fine after a trip to the hospital to treat the father’s injuries. With a smile, Jude said to the boy, “It’s okay, you’re okay. Let’s get you and your papa out of here, alright?” For some odd reason, the boy still had a fearful expression on his face. He started to form shaky words with his lips. Jude started to walk closer in order to hear more clearly, but was interrupted by a blunt impact to the back of his head. Everything went black.
Jude awoke to the sting of violent slaps on his cheeks. Tall men #1 and #2 were standing in front of him, and as far as Jude could tell, he was in the same position that the older man was in just earlier. Tall man #1 slapped Jude once more. “You little sh*t…you took out Anderson. F*cked up Stevens’ leg, too. Good thing he got up in time to take care of you. Scrawny kid like you shouldn’t be sticking their nose into other people’s business, anyhow. Shouldn’t you?!” Another slap, then two. Tall man #2, who was apparently named Stevens, was nursing his knee. He spoke to tall man #1, “Stone, don’t waste your breath. We’re here for the papers and nothing else. Finish up with this interloper and let’s get to work.” Jude held his breath. This was possibly his chance to think of a way out.
Unfortunately, the man named Stone had other ideas. “F*ck that, man! What if it was me who got hit on the head with a rock?! I could have died. Nah, I’m gonna take my time with this one.” He then turned to Jude and spat in his face, “You’ll be begging me for mercy before the one minute mark. I guarantee that, you snot-nosed brat. Not even old enough to sprout a hair on your weak, little chest. This is almost a waste of my effort.” Jude didn’t mind these words, as he was frantically looking for a weapon, or anything to help him. The older man and the boy were being watched by Stevens, so they couldn’t lend a hand. Tall man #3, or Anderson, was still out for the count. It was Jude against the world. In this case, the world consisted of Stone and Stevens.
Stone, with all his rage, punched Jude in the stomach. “Don’t space out, punk! You don’t wanna miss the part where you die a slow and painful death.” For all his talk, Stone still packed a hefty punch behind it. The man rolled up the sleeves of his button down shirt and cracked an evil grin. “Hope you like the taste of your own medicine.” He grabbed Jude’s head and brought it down to meet a rising knee. Stars clouded Jude’s vision as a million needles of agony seemed to insert themselves into his face. Before Jude’s brain could even register a response, the stars and needles came again. Stone grunted in satisfaction. Jude supposed that this was retribution for the two knees to the groin that he had previously doled out. Karma was a real b*tch.
This was approximately the time when Jude would have succumbed to the comforting void of unconsciousness. Stone noticed Jude slipping, though, and clutched his neck with his left hand. “Come on, boy, don’t puss out now. I got something that’ll keep you wide awake,” Stone said, as he reached into his pocket. Jude was struggling just to breathe. Yet he could see what Stone had procured: it was a folding knife, which Stone then flipped open to reveal a curved blade . Jude could have sworn he saw flecks of dried blood along the steel surface. Stone slowly carved the point of the knife across Jude’s chest in a diagonal direction. Red rivulets began to flow downwards from the lengthening line. For someone who had been avoiding pain for their whole life, the methodical cut was unbearable. Jude would have screamed if he had the energy to, but all he could muster was a miserable moan. He wondered if this was the end of his story. Perhaps he would see Uncle in whichever place came after this.
“Dantian. It means ‘cinnabar field.’ Sea of qi. The center of our life force.” Jude smiled, as Uncle’s baritone voice resounded in his head. These words were from a lecture that Uncle once gave, when a young Jude had asked when he could learn ‘the cool stuff,’ like breaking bricks and the one inch punch. The dull heartache of these memories was like a healing balm compared to the sharp sting of Stone’s sinister blade on Jude’s chest. Suddenly, an epiphany presented itself. Uncle had been teaching Jude about ‘the cool stuff’ all along. Jude was just too dumb and inattentive at the time to understand. “Qi is in all of us. Know yourself and you will feel that energy. Focus that energy and you might just surprise yourself.” Of course Uncle had never told him how this qi was supposed to do anything useful. Now was hardly the time to test it, but it was now or never. Jude swore to track Uncle down and strangle him if all this “life force, inner energy” talk was rubbish.
The knife finished its red brushstroke on the canvas of Jude’s body. Stone, satisfied with his handiwork, held the karambit up to inspect it. If Jude wanted to make something happen, he would have to do it now. Jude inhaled slowly—a challenge in itself. He began to feel a steady force stirring just below his navel. A few more deep breaths served to encourage that force. With all his conviction, Jude willed the force to travel up his torso and flow into his right arm, all the way down to the fingertips. In a perfect world, Jude’s hand would suddenly burst into blue flame, and his wounds would instantly heal as if by magic. In this world, though, his hand was just a hand, and his wounds were as fresh as they’d ever be. Jude prayed to no one in particular and leaned forward. He drove his fingers towards Stone’s solar plexus, but when they made contact, it was nothing more than a tap. Stone blinked twice, and then chortled, “Hey Stevens, lookit. He’s still trying to fight. I think I just got hit by the killing blow!”
Jude silently cursed. He swore he had felt the qi gather at his fingertips. Was it just an illusion of his failing mind? Refusing to believe that Uncle would have lied so blatantly, Jude concentrated on his dantian once more. He brought the energy back up to his right hand. Then, another desperate finger jab made its way to Stone’s chest. Luckily, Stone was caught up in his amusement, and Stevens only looked on with mild disdain. Even with a clear path, Jude’s middle finger barely grazed Stone. This was it. Jude had no more strength or willpower to gather anymore qi, if it even existed in the first place. He was seriously betting his life on some ancient mysticism that had little to no evidence to support it. But the fire inside Jude burned on, disregarding what his logical brain might have to say. Uncle’s voice chimed in, “Open the gates of your life’s essence. Let qi flow, for it is endless.”
For a few agonizing seconds, nothing happened. Jude held onto consciousness with the last of his strength, willing something, anything to happen with every fiber of his being. Stone, Stevens, and the two hostages stared and waited. Well, that’s it then, Jude thought. I just threw my life away on a fool’s gambit. He gurgled in an attempt to laugh sardonically at this life and death situation. Then, at the same time, Stone’s eyes rapidly bulged. He managed to squeak out a panicked “Huh?” before coughing out a torrent of fresh blood. Stone dropped his knife and began to frantically clutch at his chest, continuously coughing out blood. Stevens seemed to be petrified, as he didn’t take even one step towards his ailing ally. Normally, Jude would have seized this opportunity to counterattack, but he was having enough trouble resisting the temptation of blacking out.
One thing was for sure: this whole qi concept, regardless of its origins or inner workings, was the real deal. Jude had never felt so in touch with his body, and he had never felt so powerful. Imagine what he could do with enough time and training--that is, if he made it out of here alive. Fortunately, Lady Luck was on Jude’s side today. The knife-wielding Stone was the first guinea pig for Jude’s newfound ability. Stevens was so mind boggled and frightened by Stone’s sudden defeat that he fled the parking lot before Stone even hit the pavement.
Despite being heavily wounded and tired to the bone, Jude feverishly conjectured applications for qi while leaning pitifully against the lamppost. He knew that qi energy could be used as a weapon, so it would probably work as a defense, too. Then what about movement? Or controlling the world around him? Last, Jude realized that there might be tens, maybe even hundreds, of qi users on Earth. PHS #552 probably had its fair share. The epiphany was a humbling, yet exciting one. Jude wanted to continue thinking about this new notion, but his body was finally failing him. He grasped at fleeing thoughts as everything began to go dark once again. The last thing he heard before passing out was the small boy’s voice, “Papa...he needs our help.” Jude smiled, and collapsed onto the asphalt with a muffled crunch.
46. 47. 48. This was the 48th pushup of this set. A loose droplet of sweat dripped from Jude’s forehead and onto the asphalt beneath him. The ground had left the imprint of small stones on his hands, from all the pressure. 49. 50. Jude gave a short exhalation and stood up. He then wiped the sweat from his brow using the back of his hand. This type of workout was never his cup of tea, but recent events had convinced him of the necessity to get in shape. Unfortunately, his aching muscles screamed at his brain in disagreement. Jude massaged his triceps as if to quell their resistance and to quiet them.
The sun had already set for the day, and the area around Jude was empty, as usual. No one would have any reason to be in this abandoned parking lot unless they were up to something fishy. Jude found this observation amusing, as it would mean that he himself was up to no good. A high school boy furiously kicking the air in the dark wouldn’t look too innocent or mentally stable. But Jude could care less. He was here for himself, to toughen his body for hardships to come. Mind over matter was how the old saying went. Jude’s mind was fantastic at just about everything, except convincing his body to work hard. So, he was especially proud of himself for maintaining this training regime for—he counted in his head—nearly 6 weeks now.
Next in today’s workout was hand strengthening. For this, Jude usually brought a bag of rice to the lot as a weight, and then opened it up for the hand training. He placed the bag directly in front of him, on top of a fairly sized rock he had found. He then raised his right arm up with the elbow up and fingers pointing at the bag’s open mouth. Never had rice seemed more threatening. Jude inhaled. On the exhale, he plunged his rigid hand into the rice. The friction still left a burning sensation on his skin despite the layer of tough skin that had started to form on his fingers. Jude pulled his right hand out and inhaled, with his left arm already cocked. Exhale, left hand in. Inhale, left hand out. Exhale, right hand in. And so on.
Right when Jude was ready to call it quits, he heard several voices that seemed to be approaching the parking lot. Jude remembered what he had thought about shady business in this abandoned place. Whoever the voices belonged to, it was likely that they weren’t here for a midnight workout. Jude grabbed the bag of rice and dashed over to the remains of an old car. Now that he was out of sight, he could keep an eye out for these mysterious newcomers. Jude watched through the driver and passenger windows of the junk car and counted five people coming out of the distant shadows. Three of them were at least six feet tall, male, and dressed in black button downs and slacks. Two of these men were pushing another older and shorter man who had his hands behind his back. The last tall man was doing the same to a boy who couldn’t have been more than 10 or 11 years old. Jude felt his heart rate rise. This didn’t look good.
“Spit it out, old man!” tall man #1 demanded, and pushed the older man into a lamppost. Tall man #2 added, “Just give it up. There’s no point in resisting. We’re here to get the goods, not to bother you or this youngster.” He nodded towards the small boy. Tall man #3 remained silent with his hands on the boy’s shoulder. The older man had several bruises on his face, and he was bleeding from the nose. He replied to tall man #1, “I told you, I don’t know. Even if I did, I wouldn’t be able to tell you! Just let us go, please. I’ll give you anything else you ask for.” The boy was silent and most likely in shock. His eyes were wide open and full of tears.
Jude gritted his teeth as he watched this dialogue unfold. He could have cared less about what the black-clothed men wanted, or even whether the older man was seriously hurt. Jude was more concerned about how he would get out of the parking lot without drawing attention to himself. So why did he still feel a pang of guilt? This wasn’t like him. Jude’s way was to steer clear of trouble and walk away from situations that might turn sour. He was most certainly not the defender of innocence, caped crusader, or white knight type. Shaking his head, Jude grabbed his bag and prepared to stealthily exit the scene.
At the same moment, Jude heard the sickening thud of bone slamming into flesh. He turned his head to the source of the noise. Tall man #1 had moved on to coercion by force, landing several hard punches into the older man’s gut. Moral righteousness aside, this made Jude squirm. He was well acquainted with the sting of flying fists. It was a type of pain that he preferred not to experience or give to others. The young boy began to wail, “No…stop! Papa! Please, stop hitting Papa!” This exclamation went straight into Jude’s ears, and pierced his heart. Tonight, this boy might lose his father. The pain of that loss would overshadow the pain of a thousand punches. Jude had never lost his father, but losing Uncle might as well have been one and the same. If Jude walked away from this situation, it would mean walking away from his own predicament years ago.
Suffice it to say that there wouldn’t be any walking away any time soon, at least not until the boy and his father were safe. Jude had made the crucial decision to get involved. And once Jude deliberately involved himself with anyone or anything, it would take a substantial amount of convincing to stop him. After taking a brief moment to formulate a plan, Jude cradled his rice bag in his arms and made for the cover of darkness. Then, he carefully travelled through the unlit areas of the lot, using lampposts and shrubs as cover. Gradually, he got closer to the lamppost where the older man was held. Jude’s idea was simple: strike from the rear to take the three men by surprise. If all went well, Jude would at least have fighting odds. Regardless, he could never be too careful. ‘No battle plan survives contact with the enemy.’
19, 18, 17. Jude silently counted the number of feet between him and his target as he slowly closed the distance. 13, 12, 11. Jude picked up the rock that he had used as a pedestal for the rice bag. Speaking of the rice, he had grabbed a few handfuls of it and stored them in his pockets. 8, 7, 6. He was now entering audible range. This was the danger zone, so to speak. Tall men #1 and #2 were still occupied with working on the older man. Their yells and punches provided ample camouflage for Jude’s footsteps. Tall man #3 was closer to Jude, with the boy in front of him. 3, 2, 1.
Jude swallowed his saliva and swung the rock with both hands. It cleanly smashed into tall man #3’s head. He collapsed with a weak croak. The boy was the first to notice this, and he turned around with a look of confusion on his face. Jude would have liked to say a few words to this boy, but time was of the essence. Dropping the rock, he bolted past the boy and towards the other tall men that had just seen their accomplice fall to the floor. Jude released a handful of rice into each of the tall men’s faces. A poor smokescreen, but it would have to do. As the men brought their hands up to shield themselves from the sudden shower of rice grains, Jude ducked down and threw a hard left straight into tall man #2’s family jewels. Jude nearly winced in sympathy, but composed himself to launch a follow-up right stomp kick to the outside of the man’s left knee. By this time, both enemies had recovered from the distraction. Jude burst past tall man #2’s weak defense and quickly hit a one two punch into his solar plexus.
As tall man #2 went down, tall man #1 rushed Jude from his left. He wasn’t too happy about how their little interrogation had turned into a bilateral altercation. Tall man #1 threw a right hook at Jude’s temple. He must have been fueled by rage, because the attack was fast and fierce. Jude snapped his torso backwards, barely out of the hook’s range. He could have sworn he felt the wind from that one. The angry man continued to barrel forward, attempting a left-handed, wild haymaker. Jude recognized the opening when the man’s hand swung back in preparation. Changing gears, he darted forward and launched a vertical punch to tall man #1’s neck. As expected, Jude’s strike made impact before the man’s. The tall man tried to clear his airway by coughing, but Jude was relentless. He approached the now defenseless adversary and grabbed his shoulders. Two knees to the groin and the man was down.
Deep breaths, deep breaths. Jude had to consciously force air in and out of his heaving lungs. All the action had taken a toll on his stamina. It didn’t help that he had already tired himself out from the earlier workout. But this was worth it. Jude looked at the older man, and then the boy. They would be fine after a trip to the hospital to treat the father’s injuries. With a smile, Jude said to the boy, “It’s okay, you’re okay. Let’s get you and your papa out of here, alright?” For some odd reason, the boy still had a fearful expression on his face. He started to form shaky words with his lips. Jude started to walk closer in order to hear more clearly, but was interrupted by a blunt impact to the back of his head. Everything went black.
Jude awoke to the sting of violent slaps on his cheeks. Tall men #1 and #2 were standing in front of him, and as far as Jude could tell, he was in the same position that the older man was in just earlier. Tall man #1 slapped Jude once more. “You little sh*t…you took out Anderson. F*cked up Stevens’ leg, too. Good thing he got up in time to take care of you. Scrawny kid like you shouldn’t be sticking their nose into other people’s business, anyhow. Shouldn’t you?!” Another slap, then two. Tall man #2, who was apparently named Stevens, was nursing his knee. He spoke to tall man #1, “Stone, don’t waste your breath. We’re here for the papers and nothing else. Finish up with this interloper and let’s get to work.” Jude held his breath. This was possibly his chance to think of a way out.
Unfortunately, the man named Stone had other ideas. “F*ck that, man! What if it was me who got hit on the head with a rock?! I could have died. Nah, I’m gonna take my time with this one.” He then turned to Jude and spat in his face, “You’ll be begging me for mercy before the one minute mark. I guarantee that, you snot-nosed brat. Not even old enough to sprout a hair on your weak, little chest. This is almost a waste of my effort.” Jude didn’t mind these words, as he was frantically looking for a weapon, or anything to help him. The older man and the boy were being watched by Stevens, so they couldn’t lend a hand. Tall man #3, or Anderson, was still out for the count. It was Jude against the world. In this case, the world consisted of Stone and Stevens.
Stone, with all his rage, punched Jude in the stomach. “Don’t space out, punk! You don’t wanna miss the part where you die a slow and painful death.” For all his talk, Stone still packed a hefty punch behind it. The man rolled up the sleeves of his button down shirt and cracked an evil grin. “Hope you like the taste of your own medicine.” He grabbed Jude’s head and brought it down to meet a rising knee. Stars clouded Jude’s vision as a million needles of agony seemed to insert themselves into his face. Before Jude’s brain could even register a response, the stars and needles came again. Stone grunted in satisfaction. Jude supposed that this was retribution for the two knees to the groin that he had previously doled out. Karma was a real b*tch.
This was approximately the time when Jude would have succumbed to the comforting void of unconsciousness. Stone noticed Jude slipping, though, and clutched his neck with his left hand. “Come on, boy, don’t puss out now. I got something that’ll keep you wide awake,” Stone said, as he reached into his pocket. Jude was struggling just to breathe. Yet he could see what Stone had procured: it was a folding knife, which Stone then flipped open to reveal a curved blade . Jude could have sworn he saw flecks of dried blood along the steel surface. Stone slowly carved the point of the knife across Jude’s chest in a diagonal direction. Red rivulets began to flow downwards from the lengthening line. For someone who had been avoiding pain for their whole life, the methodical cut was unbearable. Jude would have screamed if he had the energy to, but all he could muster was a miserable moan. He wondered if this was the end of his story. Perhaps he would see Uncle in whichever place came after this.
“Dantian. It means ‘cinnabar field.’ Sea of qi. The center of our life force.” Jude smiled, as Uncle’s baritone voice resounded in his head. These words were from a lecture that Uncle once gave, when a young Jude had asked when he could learn ‘the cool stuff,’ like breaking bricks and the one inch punch. The dull heartache of these memories was like a healing balm compared to the sharp sting of Stone’s sinister blade on Jude’s chest. Suddenly, an epiphany presented itself. Uncle had been teaching Jude about ‘the cool stuff’ all along. Jude was just too dumb and inattentive at the time to understand. “Qi is in all of us. Know yourself and you will feel that energy. Focus that energy and you might just surprise yourself.” Of course Uncle had never told him how this qi was supposed to do anything useful. Now was hardly the time to test it, but it was now or never. Jude swore to track Uncle down and strangle him if all this “life force, inner energy” talk was rubbish.
The knife finished its red brushstroke on the canvas of Jude’s body. Stone, satisfied with his handiwork, held the karambit up to inspect it. If Jude wanted to make something happen, he would have to do it now. Jude inhaled slowly—a challenge in itself. He began to feel a steady force stirring just below his navel. A few more deep breaths served to encourage that force. With all his conviction, Jude willed the force to travel up his torso and flow into his right arm, all the way down to the fingertips. In a perfect world, Jude’s hand would suddenly burst into blue flame, and his wounds would instantly heal as if by magic. In this world, though, his hand was just a hand, and his wounds were as fresh as they’d ever be. Jude prayed to no one in particular and leaned forward. He drove his fingers towards Stone’s solar plexus, but when they made contact, it was nothing more than a tap. Stone blinked twice, and then chortled, “Hey Stevens, lookit. He’s still trying to fight. I think I just got hit by the killing blow!”
Jude silently cursed. He swore he had felt the qi gather at his fingertips. Was it just an illusion of his failing mind? Refusing to believe that Uncle would have lied so blatantly, Jude concentrated on his dantian once more. He brought the energy back up to his right hand. Then, another desperate finger jab made its way to Stone’s chest. Luckily, Stone was caught up in his amusement, and Stevens only looked on with mild disdain. Even with a clear path, Jude’s middle finger barely grazed Stone. This was it. Jude had no more strength or willpower to gather anymore qi, if it even existed in the first place. He was seriously betting his life on some ancient mysticism that had little to no evidence to support it. But the fire inside Jude burned on, disregarding what his logical brain might have to say. Uncle’s voice chimed in, “Open the gates of your life’s essence. Let qi flow, for it is endless.”
For a few agonizing seconds, nothing happened. Jude held onto consciousness with the last of his strength, willing something, anything to happen with every fiber of his being. Stone, Stevens, and the two hostages stared and waited. Well, that’s it then, Jude thought. I just threw my life away on a fool’s gambit. He gurgled in an attempt to laugh sardonically at this life and death situation. Then, at the same time, Stone’s eyes rapidly bulged. He managed to squeak out a panicked “Huh?” before coughing out a torrent of fresh blood. Stone dropped his knife and began to frantically clutch at his chest, continuously coughing out blood. Stevens seemed to be petrified, as he didn’t take even one step towards his ailing ally. Normally, Jude would have seized this opportunity to counterattack, but he was having enough trouble resisting the temptation of blacking out.
One thing was for sure: this whole qi concept, regardless of its origins or inner workings, was the real deal. Jude had never felt so in touch with his body, and he had never felt so powerful. Imagine what he could do with enough time and training--that is, if he made it out of here alive. Fortunately, Lady Luck was on Jude’s side today. The knife-wielding Stone was the first guinea pig for Jude’s newfound ability. Stevens was so mind boggled and frightened by Stone’s sudden defeat that he fled the parking lot before Stone even hit the pavement.
Despite being heavily wounded and tired to the bone, Jude feverishly conjectured applications for qi while leaning pitifully against the lamppost. He knew that qi energy could be used as a weapon, so it would probably work as a defense, too. Then what about movement? Or controlling the world around him? Last, Jude realized that there might be tens, maybe even hundreds, of qi users on Earth. PHS #552 probably had its fair share. The epiphany was a humbling, yet exciting one. Jude wanted to continue thinking about this new notion, but his body was finally failing him. He grasped at fleeing thoughts as everything began to go dark once again. The last thing he heard before passing out was the small boy’s voice, “Papa...he needs our help.” Jude smiled, and collapsed onto the asphalt with a muffled crunch.
