THE ESPERATIUS: VOLUME 1

THE ESPERATIUS: Chapter 1 - Part 1

                                                                                             Section 1.

. . .

It was October 19th.

And it was raining.

As alarms blared all over the street, the owner of the recently robbed shop ran out into the dark and rainy streets, carrying his trusty shotgun. Robbed right from under his nose, the clerk was furious and willing to take his frustration out on any ne'er-do-well that found it hilarious to try and pick on him.

The robber made haste out of the area, but he was not alone.

"Ahh, can't you all just leave me alone?! I only took a small packet of food lying around! And a soda!"

The robber knew negotiating with a group of thugs, that happened to have been close friends with the clerk, wasn't going to end well for him.

Now Albert Holmes was in trouble.

Only a few pedestrians remained on the soggy streets, as it was in the middle of the night. Puddles formed across the street, huddled in small inclines downwards caused by faults.  As such, Al nearly fell into one whilst turning a corner.

He glanced over his shoulder to get a count of the men.

There were five of them, and one looked to be much larger than the rest. He wore the usual biker get up of mostly dark leather, although he also appeared to have some sort of large firearm strapped to his back. The only difference was that his lackeys all held blunt weapons.

Al needed to shake these guys before the guy one decided using a gun was a good idea.

He continued to lead them on a chase for another half mile before he checked on them again.

There were four of them now: the big guy had vanished. 

"Oh well maybe it's my lucky-"

Al's sentence was cut short when he rammed into something extremely hard and immobile. It felt like a somewhat thick metal barrier.

The ram forced Al backwards, skidding across the floor a bit after hitting the pavement with his shoulder. Thankfully, it didn't feel broken or dislocated. 

"Ow. . . ," Al grumbled, sitting up and looking at what he had run into.

It was the big guy. He stood as immovable as a titanium wall and taller than most men could reach standing on a stool. His leather glistened in the rain droplets with his fists clenched.

Pissed wasn't exactly a strong enough word to describe the man.

"Oh hey big Mack! Didn't quite see you there," Al said, attempting to keep the dry sarcasm on top of his general fear level. 

It was then that his four lackeys caught up, having their weapons out. They looked rather pissed off, and quite frankly, Al couldn't judge them for it.

"Can't we just talk this over?" Al asked, bringing himself upright. The big man huffed, and raised his fist.

"The only negotiating we'll  doing tonight is with my fist," he said, preparing to drop his fist square in Al's face.

Just before release however, Al felt a small, annoying tick in the back of his head, similar to an OCD reaction to objects cluttered around unkempt or a picture frame that isn't centered.

The itch wanted him to move downwards, and to the right. 

And so, he did. 

The fist missed by a country mile as it nearly annihilated one of the other lackeys. The man grunted in response to Al's dodge, and tried bringing his left elbow down on Al's spine.