A Touch Of Lightning (COMPLETED!)

Chapter 61 Cruise 1

"Get in! Or we'll break your legs!" A man snarled.

Callin could hear the rapid, terror-stricken breathing of the older couple, the man's breath coming in pain-quickened gasps. Somebody had most likely just punched him in the stomach, Callin figured. Then, he rounded the corner and stopped short.

There were four men surrounding the elderly couple, two of them holding lengths of metal pipe, the other two holding ropes and strips of cloth. Obviously intending to tie the couple up and blindfold and gag them. All four men saw Callin at the same moment.

The biggest of the four, a man with a craggy face and greasy ponytail, took a menacing step towards Callin.

"Get lost, punk!"

Callin saw the desperation and fear in the elderly couple. He saw the four, muscular men with their weapons and their ropes. And he saw himself standing surrounded by guards with their weapons, holding power-electrified chains and cuffs. His eyes began to glitter dangerously.

"Let them go. Leave now, while you still can." He growled, standing in a ready, half-crouch, his hands curled slightly at his sides.

If he had his claws, they would be bared right then. Instead, the tips of his fingers were burning, alternately feeling like they were being dipped in ice and then in fire. That same feeling was beginning to race around inside, chasing up and down his entire bone structure. It was both disorienting painful, and exhilarating. As if his power was right there, just beyond his grip, but about to break free anyway, with no way of knowing where it might go.

The one with the ponytail glanced back at another, who nodded slightly, his mouth smearing up in a hard, lizard smile. Callin noted it. Every pack has a leader, he knew. And without their leader, most packs would run. He didn't want them to run. His fangs were burning hot in his mouth, his vision was turning red, and he was doing nothing to resist it.

The big man in front of him charged him, a direct rush, intending to simply knock Callin down through his sheer body mass, expecting Callin to be caught off-guard, to either backpedal or attempt to dodge. Callin did neither.

He opened his mouth wide in a feral scream and darted forward to meet the rush, his direct, side-thrust kick connecting with incredible force with the man's stomach. The man folded over his foot with a sickening, forced gasp. Callin yanked his foot back and darted into the air, straight up, his other foot lifting high, then slicing down in an axe kick, with his full, falling body weight behind it, his heel driving into the cluster of nerves and tendons at the base of the man's skull and neck. The man, bent over already, accelerated face forward, smashing into the ground with a dull thump, sounding like a bag of meat being dropped onto concrete. He did not move again.

Callin stood over his prey, his eyes alight with dark fury. He met the others eyes, then opened his mouth in an evil parody of a grin, exposing his fangs, and beckoned them forward.

"Next?" His voice was hardly recognizable, the sound crawling up from deep in his chest, rasping with an animals rage.

The two with the metal pipes stepped towards him. Cautious, measured moves. They knew now that he was no simple teenage boy. They were used to working together, both obviously working in harmony to some previous agreed upon plan. Callin knew better than to let them control the fight, especially since they were holding metal pipes. Normally, he wouldn't have thought twice about them, but now he wondered how long it would take to heal if he got hit with one.

He locked his eyes onto the one on his right, as if he were completely focused on him. Just for a second, just long enough for the two of them to think he truly was leaving himself open. Then, as his razor reflexes caught the beginning of movement out of the corner of his eye, to his left, he threw himself into a side flip. Towards the one rushing him. Completely over his head, shocking both of them, catching them off balance, unprepared.