[Kuzco]: 212.Alexander McAllister

Alexander McAllister.

Take 1: Bullied.

*cough cough* A boy was lying down on the ground, coughing a bit of blood. And so young was he, 6 years old. But such was his neighborhood, such were the high-scholars that in it inhabited. In the beginning, he would cry and scream but now? Why bother, why waste the effort when no one’s in earshot. They always made sure of that.
“C’mon, McAllister. ‘rn’t ya gon’a scream?”
“Yeh, ye been gettin’ boring lately.”
It was simple. Lunch money, shoes; whatever they could get their hands on. He was forced to walk about a mile to school, from his place in the field, and he was always ambushed. So many times did he try other paths but to no avail. He gave them the stuff but if he had already healed from his previous beating, they’d give him another one for kicks. He didn’t have a father any longer and he darn well wouldn’t have his mother face these bastards. So he took it. He gave them what he want, if it was one of those days he would take the beating and then carry on to school.
His mother worked in the town; she left prepared dinner because she was forced to work two jobs to keep the house and her child in school.
It seemed, at the time, that the school was the reason of all his misery. He had to get beaten because he had to go to school, he hardly ever saw his mother because she was always working. Even when he did, the boys made sure not to leave any marks on his face and he covered the rest with his clothes. Such was his life.
“…please stop.”
“There ye go!” One of them said, before kicking the child in the gut. “Ain’t this funnier, McAlly.”

Take 2: Skipping a year.
Circumstances sometimes will force a child to grow up. At the end of his first grade, as he crossed to 7 years of age, he had two choices: Quit school or defend himself.
He was far too young to defend himself from people twice his age so he chose to quit school. Everyday he pretended to leave and then spent his days in the vicinities of his home, making time. He often went back home and actually watched tv all day, specially the Chinese fighting movies. Or at least he figured they were all Chinese, what did he know? You can probably guess which his favorites were: the ones who had the crazy funny drunken masters, who were always all over the place and pulling stunts and tricks out their buts to land hits on their opponents. He didn’t believe, though, that a drunk could fight so well. He could remember a few episodes of his father, when he was about five, and he just didn’t believe it was possible. Also, his sister was almost 2 years old now; 3 or 4 more years and she would be going to serious school…a dreadful reality Alexander didn’t think about much.
That was a fun year, or almost a year, up until the time his bullies tracked his home…

Take 3: Drunken Awakening.

*BAM BAM BAM* A knocking knocked hard on the door. It was violent and aggressive, in the middle of the day.
“McAlly, McAlly…why didn’ye come to play with us anymore? We miss you so, McAlly.” Laughter followed as they banged harder on the door, trying to break in. They break a window and Alexander is already running for the kitchen, to get a knife. But the window they broke was in the kitchen and, to top it off, he tripped.
Falling in the floor, he tried to get up on time but they were already getting inside.
“McAlly!” The leader shouted, happy. Alexander ran for the door, to run away but one of the other members had already pushed through.
“AHHHH!” He screamed and ran away towards the window in the living room, this one was completely opened and free but, alas, his baby sister had started crying.
As he was about to jump off, to flee, the leader said.
“Hey, is that a female I’m hearin’!?” He stopped dead on his tracks and turned around to see two of them heading for her room.
“Ya bastards!” He screamed running towards them. “She’s just a baby, leave ‘er alone!” He screamed, terrified and desperate, jumping against one of them. He put his hands and pushed the boy into the ground.
“Oy. Ally wants ta fight, it seems.” The attacked pointed out, amused. “ACK!” He looked down and kicked Alexander away. “He frickin’ bit me!”
“Ohhh, he wants ta fight does he? Hehehe, let’s do what we did to that monkey back at the red crab.” The leader and the second pulled away from their path, ignoring the baby’s cry. They helped two more to grab Alexander and took him to the kitchen. There, a fifth one looked for alcoholic drinks.
“hahaha, it’s gonna be fun, seein’ ‘im pitch drunk.” One of them mocked, as they opened a half full bottle of Vodka and pinned him down on the ground.
“Don’ do that, Brucie. It’s so fuckin’ lame when ye rhyme. What’re ye waitin’ for? Open his mouth.”
Two of his underlings opened Alexander’s mouth and held it open as the leader cautiously and slowly gave the kid a drink.
“Don’t spill one drop, McAlly. I won’t be held responsible for what happens to yer baby there, if you do.” He told him, with a grin.
The Vodka burned and hurt, at first. Half way through though, Alexander started feeling hot, energetic, goofy. The few moments it wasn’t being poured in, he felt like he wanted more…that burned sensation, that hot blooded reaction his whole body offered towards this drink.
“Haha, alright. That’s all of it. Get ‘im up!”
The two men forced Alexander to get up, they let go of him and he tried to take a step, but fell down immediately on his face.
“HAHAHHAAHAHAHahahaha.” They laughed. “How is he even conscious?! The last one’s still in a coma.” Suddenly, they witness as Alexander rose up, having pushed the floor, and just stood there like he was trying not to fall again. Balancing to the right, to the left, in front and left, wavering in confused frailty.
“Awesome, the kid’s actually standin’ up. Hey, McAlly, punch me boy!” One of the grunts asked, putting the face right in range of the child.
Alexander was having trouble figuring out what his senses were telling him, his vision was blurry and colored, his hearing had a strange echo to it. He looked at the face of the enemy and threw a punch, the grunt pulled back at the last minute and Alexander lost his balance, falling down.
Amazingly though, he rolled over and got up again, resuming his attempt to stand on his feet.
“Wow, did ye see that? HHahahaha, boy should be in a circus! The drunken clown, hahahaaha.”
“Do it again, Scotty. Do it again.”
“Sure, c’mon kid, pun-“
Not paying attention to any of the conversation, Alexander was trying to figure out where his thoughts were at. He felt dazed, out of control, out of focus, out of mind. But suddenly, as the grunt was talking and walking towards him, Alexander interrupted him. His thoughts were suddenly nothing but void, and instincts filled his head with a background of familiar movies, a familiar sensation. His vision, for a second, became sharp as he clumsily but rapidly stepped forward and thrust at the guy’s testicles, grabbing them and squeezing them.
Soon he took a hit to the head, sent to the ground where he rolled and got up; another threw a kick aimed to crush him against the wall; he span to the left and the attacker hit the cabinet.
“AH! My fuckin’ toe!”
Alexander tripped and fell to the ground, getting up again, clumsily, before receiving a strong kick to the stomach. He fell to the ground and threw up as everything went all blurry again, with ringing and screeching pain following right behind. The gangue didn’t hold back, didn’t even let him vomit; they smashed him completely right there on the floor, beat him nonstop. In such a state, he almost died but, luckily, his mother arrived in time to get his bloodied, bruised, hardly breathing son to a hospital.

Take 4: To America.

“SIST-ACK!” Alexander had woken up, 3 days later, in a hospital bed. He woke up, he screamed, he felt an immense pain, screamed accordingly, he accidentally fell out of bed. “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!” his mother, who was standing by him waiting for him to wake up, promptly called the doctors. 
It was a miracle. A miracle that Alexander would walk again, that his arms would move again, that he would breathe well again. Even though he was lashed out with pure rage and murderous intent, the kids seemed to have given up on him before causing mortal or permanent damage thought tried really hard, managing to open his head. But he would come out of it with nothing but a scar on the left side of the top of his head.
Still, the boy would stay in bed for about two weeks, and then a wheel chair followed by about a month of limping. 
“Sonny!” His mom hugged him, carefully, with tears of relief. “How are ye feelin’? The doctor say you’ll be alright in a few weeks.”
He opened one of his eyes and looked at his mom. She had a very tired expression. Feeling somewhat guilty, he asked:
“Ma…sister. How’s she?”
“Awww, my son’s all battered and still…” She cried, having a hard time getting words through.
“Clara is a’right. They didn’ touch her. Oh, ma boy, I’m so happy yer a’right!”
It wasn’t long until Alexander had to explain to his mother all that had happened. Mad as she was, she spared her son from any kind of punishment; instead she made immediate plans to move out to a hopefully more peaceful place. After all, her home had become far more dangerous and she was saving the money already anyways.
Once Alexander could walk again, he thus set off to the United States of you know where with his mother; since they had a second hand cousin cab driver who offered to help his mother settle in, it seemed like the right choice. So off they went to live in a flat in New York.
A new life in a new continent, or so Alexander hoped.

Take 5: The sky is the same, people are the same.

A new middle-school, private, in a new country; his mother still had to take in two jobs to afford everything and his sister was in pre-school at the time.
But it seemed he was small for his age and some others were big for theirs and those quite naturally became bullies and what do bullies love? Weird accent.
He was quick to be bullied; the 6th grade kids often had fun trying to teach Alexander to talk “straight” by punishing an accent phrase or silence with punches or kicking or anything else they found amusing. The thing is he wasn’t the only one who was being hurt day in and day out; a few others also had to bear humiliation, as is customary in a school.
Multiple times did Alexander try to fight back but he was never able to make any kind of damage, to even dodge or defend a single measly punch. This time it was just some kids beating on him, it hardly left a mark so he could once again hide it from his mother and sister. But, inside of him, another struggle waged on. It had been a couple of months since he had gotten here, about 4 since the last day in his home…and he hadn’t forgotten the sensation, the alcohol.
Sometimes, when he woke up, he could feel his throat burning pleasurably, an illusion that was quick to fade away. But, due to what happened with his father, he knew his mother would completely freak out if she found any kind of beverage in the house, and all the money he had constantly got stolen so he couldn’t afford a drink. That was, until this day when he was walking to school.
He saw, in one of those cafes with tables on the outside too, a man put down a beer bottle almost full and stand up to go inside, probably to the bathroom.
Feeling very nervous, but very wanting, he stretched out and grabbed the bottle as he walked on. Nobody saw anything; he simply quickened the pace and got a way, turned aside to an alley and finally had his fill.
It was much different then what he remembered; on the third gulp, he choked and thus coughed, violently, almost vomiting. But the burn, the heat…it was difficult to drink but nothing could set his insides on fire like that so in he went.
At the end of it, he burped and let the bottle fall. A silly smile hanged on his face as he bent over to lean off the wall and start walking.
“Need some more.” He whispered as he headed back to the bar; as expected, the man had ordered another one; he was busy messing with a PDA.
“Excuse me, sir.” Alexander politely said as he grabbed his bear bottle and turned it around, chucking it in.
“Hey! HEY! What’re you doing?!?” The man, appalled, asked as he grabbed hold of the bottle and pulled on it so it wouldn’t all go to waste. “Crazy kid, go away before I sma-”
Alexander interrupts the man tumbling on the table, flipping it over; the man consequently reacted by getting up and stepping back, steps which were intercepted by Alexander’s clumsy arm.
The man trips and falls backwards, letting go of the bottle in mid air; Alexander rolled on the ground and caught the bottle with a momentary pull on his arm to go from one side of the body to the other. He almost crushed the bottle in the ground but he didn’t and it only spilled a bit; he brought it over and drank the rest.
“Cxhaaaa….hahahaha.” Alexander giggled, letting his arm slip and hit the ground, not even noticing that the fall broke the bottle. “uhhhhhh, Ah missed this feelin’. Where was I goin’ again? Ah, right! School.” At that, he rose up from the dead and walked on towards his school grounds. The man had tripped unto the road and was now too preoccupied trying to explain what happened, to the driver who almost ran him over, to notice what happened with the drunken fool of a kid.
Back at school, the bullies couldn’t resist Alexander’s goofy expression and obviously drunken walk.
“Hey! Alex! You’ve been hiding on us, huh?”
“I don’t-HIC-bhahahahahahaha” Alexander fell on the ground. They rapidly bent over and looked at him, astonished at his ridiculous behavior.
“Do ye mind gettin’ out o’ me sight?” Alexander asked. “Yer ugly mugs’re ruinin’the si-BURP- sights…ahahaahhaah. Sorry ‘bout that, you make me noxious too. Ahahahahaha.”
“Right, you wanna get hurt!” The leader said, swinging his leg to kick Alexander’s head but he put his hands and grabbed his foot.
“Don’t be low, laddie.” Alexander said, sloppily motioning one of his ands to his heel, having the other one on his fingers and abruptly using a strength he didn’t normally have to turn the foot, twisting it hard.
Alexander then rolled backwards as the bully screamed:
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! MY FOOT!! AHHHHCK!!!”
“Hahahahhaha, that’ll teach ye to bring stink to me nose. Haha, stink to me nose!” Two others advanced and took a swing at Alexander who fell behind while kicking the right one’s left knee, breaking his leg. One more scream.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ. You’re one lucky drunk!” The other said, throwing a kick that hit Alexander’s side, hard, pushing him into rolling sideways. Alexander did so and, at the second roll, he pushed the ground and got up, assuming his drunken stand.
He wasn’t thinking, he was reacting, and he was going with the flow of his will, of the world that surrounded him.
“Ye call that a kick? Me sister can-HICBURP-… wow! Never did both at the same time hahahahahaha, bloody kewl.”
“You’re crazy!” The leader screamed, crying. There were about three left but two of them were scared of Alexander. It was about this time one of the teachers arrived.
“Stop this immediately or I will!” The woman demanded, wielding a big wooden ruler.
“Yes mam!” Alexander responded, saluting his teacher and then falling backwards. “hahahahahahahha….hahahahaha…hihihih…ahhhhh.” Even drunken Alexander knew not to mess with the teachers. They suffered detention but that was that. Alexander didn’t remember what had happened at his home, but now he could imagine for he wasn’t drunk enough to have a memory lapse. The next day, a holiday, as he fought a minor hang over, he watched one of those movies with drunken masters in them. With a bag of ice to his head, he realized that that was possible. For some reason, he was stronger when he was drunk, faster, agiler, he felt constantly like he was on the verge of collapsing but when the moment required an action, it easily and viciously came out…abruptly and suddenly, his senses would momentarily sharpen and he would fight.
But if this was true, he had a way to defend himself…at the same time though, he didn’t because there was no way he could get some alcoholic beverages everyday, just in case.
Or maybe there was…

Take 6: Tragedies.

From that day onward, he spent his lunch money and the small extra on booze. Everyday, he would not take the route to school but leave earlier and head for a liquor store where he knew a homeless guy he was paying to go inside and get him his drinks. The money wasn’t that much and one of them was for the homeless so he could only afford one bottle a day.
But the bullies, for one or two weeks, were nowhere in sight and so he kept saving them. Until he decided he wanted to train and thus he started training.
From that day on, every night, he drank and practiced on the rooftop. There was the rule that required him to stay away from the ledges but otherwise, he started practicing headstands, kicking, and other crazy things he saw in the movies.
Without fail, without the wavering of his determination to be able to protect himself, he trained every night for those few weeks he remained unbothered.
One day, as he left school, the bullies were waiting for him accompanied by older guys.
“That’s him.”
“Hey, brat.” Adolescents, high-scholars again. Alexander did what he had to do, he ran.
He drew the bottle had bought today but he had miscalculated one thing, he needed an opener.
“Shit!” He reacted at needing an opener and at being pulled by a higher power. Thrown at the ground, he looked around at a band of 6 older guys plus the 5 bullies; they had, apparently, waited for the two to fully recover.
“I can’t believe this pipsqueak fucker was the one that hurt you. Well, go ahead.” The obvious older brother said as he forced Alexander to get up and pushed him at the bully leader who was quick to throw a punch at his face; he tried to duck but wasn’t fast enough, or should I say, he hesitated on the decision and thus got smack hit.
“OW! My fucking hand.” The kid complained, shaking his hand. Alexander was still holding on to his bottle, and now bleeding from the mouth.
“I’m gonna beat you real good, you Scottish prick.” He bent over to punch Alexander in the face again. There was more strength to the kid then before, it seemed to Alexander his brother had taught him to throw a punch.
Alexander desperately waved his arm that held the bottle; he took the punch but he smashed the bottle on the kid’s face.
“ACK!” The kid fell to the side and started crying.
“AHHHHH, MYFACEAHHHACHHHHHHHHHAHHHHMYFACEAHHHH!!!!”
“Bro! You little shit ass mother fucker!” The older brother reacted, kicking Alexander very hard on his stomach then bending over and sinking a punch that made him see lights.
“Fucking wail on him, guys!” He ordered and the whole group joined in, kicking and punching a curled Alexander that tried to cover his head in the middle of this slaughter.
At this time, a female worried voice sounded out.
“ALEX! WHAT’RE YE DOIN’ TO MA BOY!” Alexander’s mother happened to be passing by there; she wanted to make sure Alexander was attending school like he was supposed too. Worried sick about her son, she hurried to cross the street; everyone looked on at the crazy concerned mother as she stepped unto the road only to be hit by a fast moving car.
*CRASH* “GUHK!” She was sent flying and broken for a few meters, the car braking to the point of screeching, and then silence…
“Holy shit…was that his mom?” One of the gangue asked.
“Oh my god…”
“MISS! OH MY GOD!” The driver yelled, scared shitless and looked at her. “FUCK THIS!” he got back in and hightailed out of there.
“Serves him right.” The older brother and leader of the gangue commented.
“What?” All his grunts reacted momentarily shocked.
“Serves you right, little shithead.” He kicked him one last time, then picked his screaming brother up and ordered the retreat.
Alexander had been hit one too many times in the head; it took him a few seconds to realize what had happened…the fright stopped his heart but not his legs. He ran as if his life depended on it. He approached his mother’s body, broken, bloodied…
“Mom…?” He wasn’t crying yet, he kneeled, shaking and shivering and poked his mother. “Mom…no, mom…”
“Ah…lex…” He heard the whisper; he felt the faint and frail grasp of his mother’s hands. She was crying, probably in pain.
“B…man. Be a man…fer-cough cough!- fer yer sister…be a…”
“I’ll take care of her mommy, just don’t go away. I’ll do anything!” He felt her grasp weaken. “Squeeze my hand mom, no, please please please, mom! I’ll do anything.” He bowed over her, hugging what he could. “I’ll…please mom…please…”
At the age of 8, Alexander was an orphan responsible for a three year old girl. At the hospital, he met his mother’s cousin who had helped them settle in. He told him:
“I wish I could do more for you two. This is…a tragedy. Alex…” He put his arm around the boy and told him. “You’re flat’s paid for, it was my mother’s. You can stay in it. I will pay for the water and electricity, as long as you don’t use much. Your mother told me you know how to take care of yourself and that’s good, because I can’t. You’ll have to be the one to take care of you and your sister and all I can do is help with the bills until you have a working age.”
“Thanks.” Alexander thanked, with an empty voice but from the bottom of his heart, as he watched the doctors cover his mother’s face with a white sheet. He turned around to leave.
“Where are you going?”
“My sister…” He simply said, moving out.

Take 7: Mad Drunk.

The question “why” was bothering him ever since he met those assholes back in Scotland. “Why is this happening?”, “Why do they do this?”, ”why are people like this?”. It lingered and hurt him, but not more than his mother. It was his fault…not thinking ahead, being irresponsible. So focus was he on drinking and training that he forgot to leave the grades for his mother, to take the bottle opener, to not hurt the little brother of a maniac and so on. He was heading towards his home but he kept walking, not going in. His heart pained him and his lungs wouldn’t let him breathe so he had decided to burn them. So he took the fire escape up to the roof of his building and took the pack of bottles that he had stashed away to hide. It was alright night time, his sister would be dead worried but that was better than knowing her mother was gone so just opened up the first, with the opener that was also in the stash, and bottled it down.
He drank another and another and another. No matter how much he drank, he didn’t feel like he usually felt: no goofy, no giddy, nothing. The sorrow was intensifying, the very faint need to lean out of the edge and plunge to his death lingered ever closer to his will.
He had already sat out on the ledge of the rooftop and was already on his 6th beer.
After 10 minutes, he bent back, rolled and got up he stepped forward and threw the half full bottle of whisky at the air, falling right afterwards. Nothing could make him laugh, nothing could ease the pain and so he set out to look for more, for a pain that would douse the one inside.
It took half an hour to walk what would be 10 minutes but he eventually got there, the only bar in the vicinity that was open 24 hours per day. He had gone there to involve himself in a fight but there he happened to find the gangue.
“Whoah, look who it is! What’re you doi-you’re drunk!” The leader recognizes. Alexander looked at him threateningly and then turned around and left. “hey hey, wait up.” He followed Alexander out and his group followed him out. Alexander was trying to walk away; it was difficult for him, it seemed, to walk straight.
“Hahaha, look at him. He’s like, totally wasted. His mom just died and he—”
At that, Alexander turned around and looked at the group; the kids weren’t there, just the seven adolescent which had forced that situation, that new life upon Alexander. He focused his vision, for a second, on the leader.
“What? You wanna a peace of me?” he stepped forward. “In your state? Don’t think it’s enough your mom died? You wanna risk it again.”
Alexander, for the first time, gave a serious reply:
“I-HIC-…you’re a monster.” He said. “It’s what I want right now.” He stepped forward, towards him. “for a monster to lash out at me.” He fell on the ground, forward.
“Hahahahahahah, what the hell??! HAHAHAHAAHA.” The leader laughed even though he quieted the laugh as soon as he saw Alexander lifting his whole body from a lying position into a headstand. He then fell again and rolled standing up; he shivered and waved around, drunk as he was, until he suddenly assumed a fighting position with such a momentary steadiness that sweat and tears and dust were brushed off his arms. He clenched his fists with his arms trembling and a tear coming down his right cheek which was red. A solid moment where he looked at the leader with the killer eyes of a man who’s ready to give his life for another’s…a moment that quickly faded away as he regained his clumsy balancing, waiting for them to strike.
The leader, though, didn’t seem to be that retarded.
“Kyle, teach him a lesson.”
“Right.” A grunt said, walking towards him. He assumed a boxing position and threw a punch at the head but, due to the unexpected balancing of his body, Alexander seemingly dodges by chance; the punch grazes his neck just as his head was leaned to the left, trying not to fall. His right arm is recklessly thrown, with momentum, at the foe’s elbow while the head came right to push his hand the other way. Arm breaking and screaming followed.
“What the?!” The leader reacted. The push of the arm forced Alexander to side step, almost tripping himself over as he came to a stop.
“Everyone, get him at the same time!”
They surrounded Alexander who sighed and then burped.
“Go fer it.” Alexander told them and they rushed him. He tumbled back whilst kicking one in the kneecap and punching another one in the stomach, and then he was hit.
Again he received a beat down; it was impossible to beat such older guys in a fight. Even though most of them didn’t have any heart behind his actions, he was beaten to submission. All the members of the gangue, though, forced the leader to pull back after a while.
“Yo, it’s enough man! It’s enough!”
“It’s not enough; he shoves a bottle on my brother’s…”
“His mom died!” He screamed back at the leader, the leader shut up. “His mom died, he’s drunk and beaten what more do you want, man? Do you want him dead? Cuz I ain’t following a guy that murders an 8 year old.”
“You’re challenging me?”
“I’m just saying you’re fucking crazy! He was just trying to defend himself, for crying out loud!”
“FINE! It’s over, Alexander. Change schools, don’t ever lemme catch you again, you fucking punk. Let’s go.”
The gangue left, leaving behind the bleeding and bruised drunk Alexander to lie there for the night.
Alexander McAllister then looked at the moon, at the endless and unforgiving night and started crying. That night he cried longer and more than he had ever cried before; he cried because he couldn’t feel the beating, he was numb to physical damage and that left him nothing but the…

Take 8: Decisions.

A few hospital nights later, his new care giver gave him information that would also change his life.
“Alexander. Each time you go to the hospital, it’ll be my money. I can’t guarantee you light, water, food, if you spend the little I can share on treating yourself. Don’t involve yourself in fights, Alex.”
He was going to public school and this new reality was hurtful. He had always been bullied; very easily hurt and now he said he couldn’t get hurt. If he got hurt…
He was relived to find out that his third degree cousin had told his sister about their mom. There are good people in this world after all.
He had already passed the year so he stopped going to classes and simply invested time in training and figuring out how to avoid fights.
He thought and thought about it and came to the conclusion that he had to use his head. One thing he knows is that the bullied and neutrals normally outnumber the bullies, if he could convince these people to join together. Or if he could figure out how to stay out of the bully radar…and he did, his accent and a group.
He spent the vacation time training his accent, to sound like New Yorkers, and training. He always trained; every night, he tirelessly trained in the rooftop.
The new school year arrived and it worked. He wasn’t actually used to socialize but common behavior was easy to predict and, thus, to emulate. He talked normally and made some friends and thus was left alone. All he had to do was ignore the bullied which turned out to be easier than he thought it would be.
The bullies in the public were a lot more violent but they seemed to enjoy only beating up strong folk. They worked with pranks and soul shattering humiliation for the bullied.
He had done it, using his head, he had done. The following years were a breeze, compared to his last three…like always, and I can’t stress this enough, at night he drank away and trained on the rooftop of his building. He turned out to be pretty smart, even helping out some of the bullies with homework; he really found out how to please people, how to get them to like him, how to act and what to say. The accent was really the hard part.
And his sister was growing cute and curious and sweet; he loved his little sister very much and started paying a lot of attention to her, to make sure she was brought up well.
The drinking got him a little used to migraines and other effects of the hangovers. It wasn’t so bad though, he found out he was low tolerant to alcohol, one bottle and he was semi-good to go which was enough for training. That meant minor hangovers but they still affected him and forced him to use sunglasses, because of the light, and to overcompensate for morning classes.

Take 9: Freestyle.

In the year where Alexander would celebrate his fourteenth birthday, on his way home after a day of school, a hoodlum looking 16 year old approach him and his friends.
“Hey, Scottish prick.”
Alexander promptly ignored him but the guy screamed.
“ALEX!” Alexander turned around and looked at him.
“Sorry, I don’t know you.”
“Wow, you talk all fine now, huh? What happened to your accent?”
“Who’re you?” Alexander asked, again, confused.
“Got a message for your leprechaun ass.”
“Leprechauns are Irish, you ignorant asshole.” 
“Fuck you.” He threw a little note book at the floor. “First page, better read it.” At that, he turned around and walked away. Alexander was tempted to ignore that but he wasn’t stupid; that was obviously a member of the old bully group from his old private middle school. He picked up the note book.
“Who was that guy?” One of his friends asked.
“’Dunno, hold on.” He said, intrigued, opening the book.

You scarred my face for life. And because of you, my brother is dead. You cost me a relative, now I’ll take one from you.
“What…?”
“What? What’s it say, Alex?”
“SHIT NO!” Alexander immediately figures out the part that matters from the message: his sister was in danger. He immediately ran back inside his school and dashed towards the bully hangout. They looked at him arrive and stop, to catch a breath.
“Tom…ufff, I’ve been helping you out for the past years. I need a favor.”
“Whoah, I always told you I didn’t come to you so I could owe you. I’m not a mercenary.”
“I know…it’s me man. I wouldn’t think of using you as a grunt, c’mon! I need two beers, now.”
“What? Two…”
“Tom! Please…” He pleaded.
“Sure man, go ahead.” He took two from the pack they were using and gave it to Alexander who pushed them back and asked.
“Open them please.” The leader did so and gave them back to Alexander who covered the bottles with each palm of his hand, so they wouldn’t spill, and started running.
His sister was now 7 years old and already in home so there was where he was headed.
He didn’t know what was this about killing a brother but he wasn’t about to let them kill his sister. In his normal state, he could still run right and run he did, all the way to his house. 
When he arrived, he thus climbed the stairs to his floor, listening to the beating of a door and a faded terrified young scream. He brought one of the bottles up and drank it as he came to his floor.
He heard the door give in just as he turned left to follow the corridor, he saw them going in.
“BASTARDS!” He yelled out, in his Scottish accent, as he threw the bottle which hits the last in queue to get in, putting him out cold. He wasn’t hearing his little sister anymore; he hoped it was because he was hiding.
“C’mon out, you little bitch!”
“Hey, I’m right ‘ere!” Alexander called out, standing at the door. He looked and saw who it was that threatened his sister’s life. He had a scar on his left side of the face, it was the old bully leader that took a bottle to the face.
“Curious, I’m not finding your sister…” He said, slowly. He had a baseball bat in his hands, the others has knifes. That intimidated him a great deal; in fact, Alexander would have fled at the sight of that group, would his sister not be left behind at their mercy. He gulped up and summed the remainder of his courage, drinking the last bottle.
“Humpf, I admire your nerve: taking a second to shot some liquor inside that alcoholic pie hole of yours. I’m looking at you, you seem a lot fitter then I remember you as.”
Alexander let his arms hang by his shoulder, almost dropping his bottle of water. His cheeks bloomed red and he bowed down his head; he raised it again with that goofy smile of his.
“I’m not gonna let that fool me this time. My brother warned me about that. See? He was a fighter, he figured out you fight better when you’re drunk. But I got my mates here, we got weapons, you got nothing. But man oh man… the question you should be asking yourself isn’t if you can survive this… the question you should be asking yourself is if you can beat them all…” he waved his arm around. “Before I find your sister...” He grinned and walked off as 2 of his 6 henchmen attacked Alexander from his two diagonal sides.
He leaned left to dodge the knife that was coming from his right while clumsily grabbing hold of the one that was coming from his left and directing its course very slightly, at the arm that was holding the right knife. He then, he was standing on one foot, pulled on that arm and shoved the bottle on the guy’s stomach. He leaned back, rose his hand and beat his head with the bottle which didn’t break; meanwhile, the stabbed guy was still screaming when Alexander brought the bottle up and to the side in a seemingly effortless wave of his hand that broke the bottle on his face. 
Three more came, he threw the broken piece at one of them, tumbling forward due to the throw, he happened to land on his shoulder and thus rolled to land and push his feet against the middle one’s legs; he hit him and made him abruptly trip and fall over him.
He grabbed his shoulder and held him up for but a moment, since it wasn’t a hold but a reckless stupid push. Alexander then made a sudden pull and forced a very aggressive knee in his stomach. He shivered delivering two more and then pushed him to the right while rolling to the left.
A baseball bat came down on his torso when he put his arms in front to defend it. He felt a squint of pain.
“Ack!”
He really didn’t expect the guy to quit looking for his sister, though he was glad he did it.
“What.the.fuck?” The guy said, hitting his arms three times and it was hurting so after the third one, in the time that the guy brought the baseball bat back up, Alexander rose up his legs, placed his hands on the ground and delivered an upper-kick to the guy’s chin.
He used his hands to face him and then delivered a kick to the head then pushed his hands and waved his body to do a full spin for another with a knife was going to back-stab him. He kicked the knife away and the leader’s bat off his already weak grip.
“We’re up, man! Paul’s in bad shape but we’re good, let’s kill this guy.”
“And then his sister!!!” The leader screamed.
Alexander heard the bat fall a meter from him and it was his only chance; he let his body fall into a roll, then hopped a bit to grab at the bat and did a hand-stand roll to finally stand up.
He looked around at his seven enemies, he felt the bat in his hand, he started rotating it in his grip. He looked like he was about to faint but he was maneuvering the bat like a kung fu trainee.
“What the hell?”
“Dude…can we really--?”
“Shut up! You got knifes, he’s surrounded, what’re you waiting for?!”
He was indeed surrounded, all five of them rushed him but he just bent backwards and place the bat’s tip on the ground using it as a leverage to do a jump over the shoulders of two of them. With a cat’s agility, he landed behind them, again with the clumsily oscillating stand.
“hahahahahahahahahaha” He laughed, he then giggled, burped, and laughed some more.
“What the…”
“I do believe, monseurs…that you are all screwwwwed HAHHAAAHha-HIC!- hihihhihi.”
“SHUT UP!” One of them said, attacking Alexander with a horizontal slash of the knife, Alexander leaned back a little too much but found himself supporting upon the bat.
“Well this is very useful!” He said, with a mocking tone. The attacker roared as he tried to shove the knife on Alexander’s head but he changed his weight on the bat and pushed a little moving his body to the left and completely dodging his opponent.
“Oops, missed.”
“GAARRHhh!” He stroke again and Alexander completely pushed on the bat, so he’d slightly launch himself pass his attacker; he kicked his leg while he was at it, making him fall to the ground almost with a flip. “Very useful indeed.” He smiled, putting some considerable effort into keeping his eyes open. He gawkily threw the weight of his body into dragging the bat into hitting the attacker’s torso. It hit strongly, it put him out.
“Right then, hehe” He got up, for he had fell and looked at the others who still looked at him awkwardly.
“I’m keepin’ this, ok? Now, there’s two days this day can end for you.” He let himself fall but used his bat and just leaned on it. The flow continued but now only the bat oscillated randomly circularly. “With or without a beating.”
“Right, I’m off.” One of the grunts decided, on the spot.
“Me too, bye.”
The leader was indeed bent on making Alexander pay but he wasn’t able too, he didn’t have the skills. This was the first fight that Alexander would win but the most important for it was on this one that Alexander McAllister started his freestyle of the drunken fist, drunken baseball bat.
At the end of the fight, the house had remarkably suffered low damage and Alexander had a bunch of whining assholes to deliver to the police. He looked at the bunch and at the house and made another very important decision:
“’M gonna get a dog…”

Take 10: A new beginning.

In the year that he was admitted in high school, before school started, he got himself a driver’s license and a job as a taxi driver. He had taught his sister how to call the police and told her to take any message from his seriously, for next time he might not be in time to physically help. Also, he acquired a trained American pit-bull terrier that has had already about a year and a half of experience with him; his sister liked the dog a lot, even though she doesn’t necessarily help clean the excrement, but what matters is the extra line of defense. Luckily, Alexander was blessed with a nice, behaving little sister who admires her big brother quite a bit, despite his drinking habit, if she even notices it.
Now sixteen years old, his sister being 9, Alexander was getting ready to start all over again. A new school, a new environment; good news was, he now had a fake ID with which to get drinks, so he could carry beverages with him, which he did.
It had been an everlasting adventure, just getting to this point and, despite all tragedies, he was pretty proud of himself and oddly anxious to meet this new world, new life, and leave the past one behind for good. Dead and buried, he so wished and will keep on wishing.
His life was now: wake up at 6 am, with a hang over, drive his sister to school, return and sleep another hour; then he’d grab his pack, normally hiding three gin flasks under a jacket he kept for cold times, and head to school. There, he’d fight sleep and head aches during the morning, then he’d have lunch, and pay attention to all classes in the afternoon. Then he would immediately leave and head home to chill for a bit before having to go get his sister. He’d bring her home, make her dinner, and then leave at 8 to work part time taxi driver till midnight, at which time he’d return and train up to two hours on the roof of their building. Go to sleep, and continue on.
On weekends, he spent most of Saturday entertaining Clara, cab driving and practicing at night. Sunday was TV day for little Clara and also a full day of cab driving for McAllister.
The public high school was of the violent sort. Due to Alexander’s training regime, he spent most mornings sleeping in class or with a hang over. For this reason, he inadvertently avoided social interaction, passing by as a lazy bum of no interest to anyone.
There were fights every day at that school, which McAllister dodged. There was this one day, though, where usually didn’t stand. Instead of heading straight home, Alexander decided not too. Feeling particularly gloomy and sad, that day, he went to check on the roof. It was empty, to his surprise and delight.
He closed the door behind him and walked off, taking out his bottles. He slowly drank in the tranquility of solitude and new scenery; the view from there was quite emotional, looking into a devastated neighborhood, one who gradually fell into darkness, as the sun fell into nothingness. He enjoyed himself quite a lot there, so he made a routine of it.
Wake up, go to class, drink moderately on the roof for half an hour, nap for one hour, get sober and pick up Clara. It wasn’t that bad, that life of his.

Take 11: Making Friends.
 
His rooftop retreat worked rather well, for a week, until McAllister had too much to drink.
Eager to drink, he took his first sip moments before he opened the door to the roof.
“Ahhhh…” With his throat delicately burning, he approached the edge of the roof, as he drank the rest so to extend the hot sensation to the entirety of his chest. “Wooo, YEAH!” He shouted, stopping at the ledge.
He looked at the moon, which was raising itself high, and raised the flask to it:
“This one’s on you, ye beautiful thing!” He drank the rest of it, joyful.
Having finished it, he threw the flask at the ground with a pleasured growl:
“Hahahahahaha…, ‘tis a good day to drink!” he brought his pack around, withdrew one more flask of gin and then let it fall on the ground. On top of it fell his grey hooded jacket, and so McAllister was now wearing a T-Shirt and his trousers.
“The moon watches, patiently and heartbroken, at a shameless man! That’s right!” he voiced out, offended as he gulped down half of the flask. “I’ve no shame to call me own-HIC-…incidentally…” he drunk the rest. “Ahhhrrr, I need ta piss.” He threw the flask off the roof and made it so his urine would follow; he just unzipped and peed right off the roof.
“Ehhhhh, dat’s the stuff…mmmmm….”
When he was finished, he zipped up, grabbed another flask and just shot it through the throat, collapsing on the floor afterwards; at that moment, the door opened.
“What, in all thunderous hells of FUCK…do you think you’re doing!?!?”
McAllister didn’t answer though; he simply died there, uninterested in the trespasser. He heard footsteps, indicating the interloper was getting closer.
“Hey, I’m talking to you!”
When he was almost on top of him, McAllister rolled away and stood up; his torso was waving for balance, always at the brink of collapse.
He squinted his eyes to get a look at the invader; he mostly failed, other that one moment of focus where he was able to notice every detail: He was tall and athletic, black skinned with short curly black hair; he was wearing black khaki and a dark T-shirt with a symbol of ‘Dragonlance’ and huge audiphones as a necklace; also, he smelled like urine.
“Fucking hell, man, look at you. You’re completely wasted.” He pointed out, approaching McAllister who was still trying to get his bearings.
“Yo! Wake up.” He called out, moving his hand for a slap.
McAllister’s senses sharpened and focused, momentarily; he leaned back as ifo to fall on his back, while lifting his leg for a kick that connected.
“Uff!” The interloper was pushed back and sat with a kick to the stomach and, when he looked back at McAllister, he had already rolled back into his clumsy, oscillating posture; he frowned and struck the floor in frustration.
“That’s it!” He got up. “Fuck it.” He moved towards the exit, there, he opened the door, and then, he removed his backpack, placing his audiphones and player in it; he thus placed it on the last step and closed the door.
“I dunno what the hell is going on, but I got your piss all over me, and you still kick me?!”
“Hahahahaha, what can I say, laddie? Life’s a bitch…whoah” He interrupted himself, bending his torso completely, almost tumbling before bending back into his controlled stance, adding: “An unfair bitch.”
“Oh, I know! I’ll be reminding you of that, right now.” He took a boxing position and proceeded to double step forward. “I’m going to fuck you up.”
He launched a right straight punch but McAllister leaned his head and shoulder, enjoying the breeze; he followed up with a quick downward hook with his left hand; McAllister, in the leaned position, span around to his right dodging the second blow, immediately straightening himself the moment after, though he had to lean again to avoid another right cross; following up on his lean, McAllister easily slingshot, using the elbow and wrist, a two finger knuckle punch at his opponent’s arm. He fell forward, still managing to catch his steps hence crouching, sinking a punch in the guy’s very tough abdomen.
An uppercut came flying to hit McAllister’s head but he stretched his arm pushing himself into a back roll, feeling the uppercut cut the wind in front of his nose; as soon as he landed his feet, though, he did not stand up but rather leapt forward with a spin.
The guy placed his arms to defend the incoming feet swipe but, apparently, McAlister had miscalculated the distance, for his feet did not connect. The opponent watched, dumbfounded, as the alcohol wasted punk landed on his feet and hopped with a punch leading the way.
McAllister put a punch through the guy’s defenses, connecting an improvised backhand uppercut; the motion seemed impossible but the flow that carried McAllister was visible to the trespasser who, disoriented, curled into a boxing defensive stance that wasn’t in time to defend anything other than the head. He strengthened his abdomen and took the hits.
A flurry of blows involving elbows, wrists, hips and head, followed that first punch, only hitting the torso on spots not too serious; when he stopped, he was quick to thrust a punch, that fell short for McAllister had, yet again, bent backwards unto a fall whilst throwing a kick that hit his unprepared stomach.
McAllister again rolled back into standing up, laughing as his opponent stepped back, slightly bending as he endured the hurt.
“That was fun! Hahahahahaa, can we do that again? Can we? Can we?” McAllister mocked, with a child’s irritating voice, cheerfully enjoying himself.
“Fine, you Zui quan motherffff….” The trespasser angrily voiced out, as he took out his t-shirt. On his chest, there was a tattoo spelling out ‘The dragon will rise again’ with a Chinese dragon oscillating around it.
He waved his arms around for a few minutes, then he firmly clenched his fists with such power his fingers crackled. “Ima go Jeet Kune Do on your ass! HoooooohaaaaAAAAAHhhhhHHHH!!!”.
“Bhahahahahhahahaha, I’m fightin’ Bruce Lee now, am I?”
The opponent side-double-stepped and thrust out his leg in a perfect kick that connected with McAllister’s chest, due to the fact McAllister was shorter than his opponent.
McAllister was hit full blown hard, flying back and crushing himself against the wall.
“Guh!” He complained as his body slid off the wall and fell on the ground; he tried to put his hands but his drunken state didn’t allow him to achieve firm limbs for more than a second. He coughed out blood as his arms slipped and he face-planted the ground.
“Ugh!”
“That’s for pissing on me, asshole.” The opponent shouted, having initiated some footwork, a slight dancing of the feet and body, to gain a certain flow of movement.
“Wooooooooo!!!!” McAllister suddenly howled to the skies, exhilarated. “I can’t feel no pain right now, but boy’s this fight gonna pain me ass in the mornin’.” He joked; he then pushed the floor, standing up unto his drunken stance.
“So what’s yer name, laddie?”
“Ima.”
“Ima…?”
“Ima beat your face like there’s no tomorrow!” He interrupted while he charged, even though McAllister broke out laughing.
“Bhuaahahahahahahahah-Whoah!” he reacted, spinning to the left to avoid the thrusting jump-kick his opponent had used.
The dodge was successful, even though he tripped and fell; he quickly got up and noticed that the kick shoved the guy’s foot through the concrete wall, a few inches.
McAllister had, then, two seconds in which the guy was stuck; he used them wisely:
“Hahahahah. This one’s free, a’right?” He did a back walkover and then stopped to see his opponent land the foot on the ground.
“Name’s Alexander McAllister!”
“Nice to meet you, McDrunk. Jay is the one about to teach you some respect.”
“C’mon then!” McAllister called out, before starting a clumsy dash.
“Bring it, bitch.” He stepped firmly on the ground and clenched his fists, placing himself in a sort of fencing position, right arm being at the lead. But McAllister would not have his movements read! As he came into range, he suddenly did a quick step and threw his legs, sliding.
“WhoooooAH!” Jay voiced out, passionately, as he lifted his left leg and stomped, to crush McAllister’s knees but he pulled off a crazy dodge, getting his legs out of the way and up; Jay’s foot grazed McAllister’s left knee cap as it provided support for the right leg that was going up thanks to the propulsion power of McAllister’s hands.
Jay hooked his arm and swung, pushing McAllister aside with a force to be taken advantage off! McAllister pushed his torso up and let his arms fly and circle about, along with his torso that rotated and moved somewhat, he closed the first and second joints of his fingers, as his hand came about to smack Jay’s face. Having just swung his arm, he had that side completely opened.
His face took the hit:
“GUH!” But it wasn’t a total loss, he kept the flow his head was thrust upon to kick McAllister’s legs, tripping him.
McAllister, though, kept with the flow and hand-stood for a second; a second because Jay had stepped down his tripping foot and turned his body around to shove his other foot on McAllister’s now upside down chest.
McAllister was again expelled, sent rolling on the ground until he got up unto his drunken stance, as if he had come out of his own back roll.
“Hahahahahaa-” He coughed out blood. “You pack quite a kick, laddie.”
Jay wiped the blood off his face and checked on his busted lip. “Fuckin’…gah. C’mon.”
“Hahahahaah, way of the intercepting punch. It works beautifully in the sparring sessions don’t it?!” McAllister asked, walking forward. “But it can do little other than crumble in the face of a drunken fighter, who doesn’t plan his moves, doesn’t have sets. How do you like my wasted movements?!” He asked, mocking Jay’s doctrine.
“Wasted movements? They’re confusing me, they are plenty useful, from my point of view.”
“You complement me?”
“Before I smash your face in? Why not?” Jay added, stepping forward.
“Let’s try out an onslaught, shall we?”
“HAhahahahahahahah, bring it, ya pansy.”
Jay hopped into McAllister range, thrusting a punch, which McAllister dodged by leaning his head. The punch came back and stroke again before McAllister could act so he didn’t just dodge this one, he dodged while striking Jay at the rib. Jay caught the strike with his other hand and swiped horizontally with his leading hand; reciprocally, McAllister ducked, waving his body from right to left, retreating his arm but attacking with the other who fell short of range when Jay pulled his tummy back, pushing it forward along with his leading arm, against an already standing McAllister.
McAllister pushed the hand away whilst striking and Jay dodged the attack whilst striking with his free hand, hand which McAllister dodged with a hip movement, striking with his knee which got caught by Jay’s knee at the same time he threw his lead elbow at McAllister which was caught by McAllister’s hand whilst striking back.
Jay was standing firm, distributing stop-hits(simultaneous defense and counter), pissed at the fact McAllister could also pull off such an advanced fighting method. McAllister wasn’t firm at all; he was wavering, going front and back as he traded blows, which actually helped him retain balance.
It was like time had slowed down, never before had his senses been forced to stay sharp for so long; McAllister was used to little spurts of focus but he was now a minute in a sequence of spurts that was turning continuous, something he didn’t think he could do.
Being pushed made him feel exhilarated, excited, more pumped than ever before.
“WooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAA…HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO” He screamed, letting out his enthusiasm in an energetic howl, for as long as 10 seconds of that flurry of blows.
Eventually, McAllister missed a defense, a stop, as did Jay.
McAllister connected a knee whilst Jay a punch; they both wavered back and then forward. McAllister thrust another two finger back hand whilst Jay swiped the air with a fast punch; both connected on chest and face, respectively.
McAllister was pushed to the side, cart-wheeling to get his balance back. Jay stood in his place, trying to get his breathing back under control.
“This’s the most fun I’ve had in ye-“ A soft liquid made it into his mouth, and now that he noticed, he was smelling rust.
“Shite! I’m bleedin’ from me nose. Well, now me sister’s gonna worry…” He complained, concerned.
“You have a sister? Poor girl.” Jay pointed out, having regained his breath.
“I call me dog that.” McAllister corrected.
“Well, poor puppy. Just say you fell down the stairs.” Jay again took a fighting position.
“Hahahahaha…awesome, laddie. Classic, funny, and it works!”
“Humpf, glad to oblige. Let’s finish this.”
McAllister grinned enthusiastically as he bent over and hopped unto a handstand.
Jay wasn’t about to underestimate McAllister again; he clenched his fists and will, hardened his limbs and thought of an attack.
When decided, he charged; he decided to try another flying kick, thinking McAllister didn’t have any power with his feet, in that position, to counter. That was a correct assumption, but Jay was the one to take a hit.
McAllister used his hands and body balance to spin around, dodging the kick by inches while still managing to place his foot in Jay’s head’s way, successfully.
McAllister was thrown off balance, falling along with Jay that landed with the back of his head, closer to the ledge that one would like.
“ughufff…!” Jay almost flew off the building.
Jay stood up, watching McAllister already up, smiling goofily with random sudden giggles.
“I am going to win this.”
“Sure ye are…hihi”
Jay again charged, full speed, against McAllister who mocked while Jay didn’t get in range.
“Uuuuhhh, fer once, yer attackin’.”
Jay watched as McAllister showed very accurate timing, leaning forward whilst throwing a punch, closed palm facing left.
Jay punched it aside with a left hand sweep and then thrust his right hand toward McAllister’s stomach, instead of employing it to protect himself from an improvised left hook that McAllister threw, taking advantage of his body motion.
Both punches were violent but Jay shoved McAllister’s breath away; he had won.
He grabbed hold of McAllister’s shirt, so not to fall away because of the punch; by doing that, he pulled McAllister’s belly region and so McAllister found himself as if leaning back with his shoulders whilst sticking out his belly.
“Guh…” Noticing that his hand was grabbed unto the T-Shirt, Jay used a very recently apprehended technique; he clenched his fist and punched McAllister’s stomach with far more force than McAllister could’ve predicted.
“Guhhfff!”
The T-Shirt ripped a whole as McAllister was pushed back into falling, the piece still in Jay’s hand, and hanging out of it. With a hole in the T-shirt, McAllister was sent back about 5 feet, landing peacefully on his rear.
He sat there for two seconds; Jay let the piece of cloth fall whilst massaging his jaw and, as he did this, McAllister began to barf. With such a blow to his stomach, McAllister couldn’t help it and thus he simply sat there, bored, puking his guts out over the floor and his trousers.
Jay kept his distance, obviously, but also sat down to wait for Alexander to get his drunk out.
He listened as uncomfortable moans sounded out, coughing adding up to the show of disgust. Finally, Alexander spat blood, and announced the end.
“ugh…shite.”
“Humpf, you really made a mess of yourself, huh?”
“Seems so.” Alexander replied, without a hint of accent. “You helped though.”
“Well, you peed on me.”
“Indeed? Well, I would apologize but I figure having digested blood, food, and booze as well as digestive fluids themselves all over me cover it.”
Jay sighed a smile then giving a mild laugh that was accompanied by Alexander.
“hahaha….gotta hand it to you though, put up quite a fight. Where’d you train?”
“Self taught-“ He covered his mouth, feeling like he was about to throw up. But he didn’t though. “-Man…still queasy.” Alexander complained.
“That’s scary, man.”
“What?” Alexander asked. “That I’m queasy?”
“No, idiot; that you’re self taught; how many years?”
“About 8.”
“Seriously? Huh.”
“Still lost though.” Alexander pointed out.
“Heh. Well, I’ve been training, developing, under Jeet Kune Do for 10 years, and I’m very advanced. How old are you?”
“16…-Burp- ugh…”
“I’m 18. This is my last year.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you. But you think me beating you matters that much?”
“It means you’re stronger.”
“Hah! C’mon, you can do better than that.” Jay commented.
Alexander sighed, melancholic. He had been thinking about what to tell his little sister, concerned she’d be worried. He lied down, feeling his insides responding disapprovingly, whilst his muscles ached momentarily to voice their thanks for being able to rest.
He thought about Jay and what he was talking about, examining his abilities that those of his own.
After a few minutes of tranquil silence, Alexander spoke:
“If this was a real fight, I would be defeated, dead. Because it isn’t, I now know of my greatest weakness, and that its defense must be my top priority.”
“Exactly. Kamikaze attack at your stomach won’t work anymore; that weakness has been taken advantage off, hence, no more is it a weakness.”
“Heh, you sound Chinese.”
“Well, my master is one.”
“You’ve become nicer, all of a sudden.” Alexander remarked.
“You’ve become rational.”
“heh, touché.” Alexander conceded, as he watched the increasingly darker sky with half closed eyes, red of bad lifestyle. “Well, I’d better-”
“-Hold on, do you come here often?”
“Day routine. I think it’s pretty scenic here, perfect for a drink…or 10.”
“Haha, alright. I’ll check up on your, now and again.”
Alexander lift his torso to look at Jay who had already gotten up.
“I figure you’ll be heading home, no?” Jay asked.
“Yes. I will cut my losses for today, get home and treated.” Alexander said, not getting up due to the instability that were his insides.
“Smart, for once.” Jay joked. “Well, be seeing you. And please don’t pull anymore shit on the roof.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, Jay.”
“Alright then, Alex.” Jay bowed his head slightly and headed for the door. Alex simply lied down again, closing his eyes and breathing.
He heard Jay open the door, pick up his stuff and close it. He opened his eyes, focusing on a cloud. A deep emotion was grazing his heart, it didn’t penetrate it because Alexander couldn’t exactly define it, understand which it was. He felt melancholic, lost in the wind of time and occurrences, being carried like a cloud is carried by the wind…until it disappears as it cries one last time. He thought of it and he wondered: tears of joy, or sadness? In all truth, it’s just a cloud…he smirked and got up; slowly and cautiously, he made his way to his bag. He took off his trousers, standing there in boxers, and then he tied his jacket around his waist so to make a quilt: he made this sitting down.
Afterwards, he put on the bag and carried his trousers with him, as he walked slowly towards the exit.
He directed himself towards the bathroom; before he cleaned his hands, he looked for a concealed knife, for there would surely be one.
He found it after 5 minutes, and used it to cut his trousers into pieces, which he flushed down the toilets, followed by his already ancient snickers. He then splashed the ground where some vomit and/or blood still laid so it would dilute and become less evident what kind of mess that was.
In the end, it looked even more disgusting but at least it was unrecognizable. He then washed his hands and face, taking some time to examine his wounds. 
As he finished, he figured the stairs excuse would work with his sister. But still, he wanted to go home and change his clothes since his t-shirt had some blood stains and he didn’t have any trousers.
He left but, that night was one hell of a destined night. It was the night Alexander met Jay, and also the night he heard her for the first time…

Take 12: Love.

Alexander McAllister was just leaving school, when he heard music. His ears fluttered, slightly, as he stopped to pay attention. The sound was one, of one instrument, but it was far. With nothing but socks, he felt compelled to follow the sound to the right, a detour of about 30 paces, until he noticed the room from where the sound was coming from.
The door was just slightly opened, and so the sound carried out untouched by that small crack. It was a violin, and the music was…emotional.
Alexander McAllister heard as the music told his soul:
There is a hole in my life. And the worst of it is…I don’t know what should be there.
I can’t express that flaw, I can’t voice that void, but I feel it.
Suddenly the sound high pitched as if a loud cry was coming out, it went back to the melody but with more grave a sound, more penetrating a wave; Alexander opened his eyes wide, like if he had been stricken, and put his hand over his heart.
“Uh…” He moved to open the door, but the sound couldn’t be halted, could not be interrupted. He thus just sat down, pulling the pack unto his lap as he leaned to the wall.
He touched the wall with the back of his head, looking up.
I miss something, an emotion I felt in the past: Maybe the childish mentality, maybe the pure passion, that first one; maybe the irresponsibility, maybe the lack of guilt.
I do not know what, but I miss it dearly.
A tear dropped from his chin, as another already paddled its way down his cheek. He looked at the dark wall, feeling bare naked and alone with his emotional issues. But it felt good; it felt satisfying…to confront his sadness, his loss.
Crying was a release for McAllister. His mind, though, after 10 minutes, wandered back to whoever was playing this.
Somehow, he knew it was a girl. He would be ashamed if it was a guy, but he knew it was a girl. He thought of greeting her, but then remembered some facts:
He had vomit-booze breath, no pants, no shoes, and was bruised and bloodied all over.
He decided to leave before she noticed, but then she changed the music unto a more of a wanderer’s feel. He felt compelled to listen.
He nodded his head, to his heart’s content, as he heard whoever it was playing the violin.
There is a goal I need to get too, and so I walk. I see no road, so I walk straight. I don’t see the goal, and so I keep walking. And yet, there is no road and no goal in sight; but I’ll finish what I started, without worries of deception or dissapointment. I’ll keep walking my road, of no roads, ‘till it leads me to my goal. Always, I wander.  
It was amazing, she didn’t stop; doing her thing, complete master on the instrument, she improvised and kept on it…beautifully, marvelously. McAllister was no lover of music, but he loved this…it somehow spoke to him. He understood the emotion; he could read it and translate it in his feelings.
It was breathtaking to him, an experience of the likes he had never partaken in before. He had to leave, after half an hour, to make sure he still had time to go home, change, and then pick up his sister. But he made note of what room that was…for he would be back for this…inexplicable joy. 

Take 12: A perceptive sister.

Already a bit late, Alexander drove quickly, despite being noxious and having a slight head ache. He left before she quit playing, so he had managed to hide his presence.
The touching rhythm kept playing in his head, leading his lips unto a smile; his heart racing with an unusually fast pace.
He parked the car in front of his building, left and go inside, then climbed the stairs up to the 4th floor, and then finally opened his door. He was greeted by his pit-bull terrier who stated, with a soft growl, an interrogative undertone. 
“Yeah, I know. I got messed up, I need to change. Don’t delay me, ok? Don’t want to be late.”
The dog licked his lips and nodded with a sniff, returning to the kitchen. Alexander then changed his clothes, put on some pants and the second of four identical pair of shoes he had. He left, unbothered by the household’s other guardian.
He entered the car and thus proceeded to pick up his little sister, Clara.
Again, he didn’t even turn the radio off, as he drove, intoxicated with the music he had heard, frustrated with the fact his memory was already failing him.
He didn’t meat with any issues on his way to his sister’s school; he was normally early but this time he was already late by 4 minutes. Because of this, his sister was evidently a little concerned, expectantly looking out for him.
Her little freckled face relaxed with relief, upon recognizing her big brother. She waved, energetic as always, and happy to see him, causing her two red braids to wave at the wind.
He parked the car next to her, which was when she noticed his wounds. She pointed at his face, and then ran to open the door.
“Alex, what happened to your face?!”
“Relax sis. Fell down some stairs. Anyways, get inside! How many times have I told you to wait for me inside?”
“But you always arrive early…” She excused herself, strapping on her seat belt.
“So you don’t come outside to wait for me.” He justified. “But I have school too, sis. You need to listen to your big brother.”
“Then tell me what happened to you.”
He accelerated, moving the car forward.
“I already told you: fell down some stairs.”
“Hum…” She murmured, unconvinced, looking suspiciously at the central rear view mirror with her olive colored eyes. But she ended up grinning and spelling out an amused. “O.K. I’ll listen to you big bro.”
“You do well, Clara. So how was school?”
“BO-ring. I am NOT a fan of math.”
“Heh, who is? Got any homework today?”
“Yeh!” She answered, then giggling. “Can you help me?”
“Of course. We have some time before I have to go be a taxi driver. You know that.”
“Teh-he. Yeah, I know.”
After a bit of silence, Clara mentioned:
“Hey, Alex. May I ask you something?”
“Yes. Anything.”
“What’s ‘having sex’?” She asked, abruptly though innocently.
Alexander was quick and swift in parking the car to discuss this topic. He stopped the car, and looked back at his sister.
“Where did you hear that? Did someone request that of you?”
“Yeh. I don’t know what it is, though, but I didn’t want to be called stupid…it sounded obvious. So I said maybe.”
Alexander squint his eyes, focused and serious.
“Who’s the kid? Where does he live?”
“Don’t you mean what’s his name?” She corrected Alexander.
“Why would I want to know his name?” He asked, dumbfounded, making his little sister giggle with amusement. 
“Aleeeex…”
Alexander sighed deeply, thinking.
“Sex is…something two people do…huh…together. When they love each other over any other person in the world, they can enjoy…herm…sex.”
“I see, I see…” She nodded, arms crossed, to show comprehension.
“So what’s love, actually, bro?”?
Alex sighed, massaging his forehead.
“C’mon sis, you know that.”
“No, it’s really confusing! I have a friend that’s always saying he loves ketchup and birds!” She commented, appalled.
“Oh, ok. Love is, huh…it’s the highest level of likeness: there’s, like, crush, adoration, passion, etc. At the highest you have love. People use it too often and easily, these days, to show they really like something or to induce an exaggerative tone in their remarks so that they are funnier.”
“…” She frowned, slightly. Alexander pulled out the car and drove away, while her sister chew her thoughts.
“Hummm…” She groaned, confused. “Too many big words…” She admitted, embarrassed.
Alexander smiled, for he was very fond of his sister and her cute reactions.
“You’ll understand in due time. As to sex, the kind of love I am referring to is one where you like someone to the point where you just can’t see, imagine life without her. Where thinking that person gone hurts your chest.” He explained, in a manner as exaggerative as he could. Clara had always been a level headed girl…if she took his description to heart, it would be many years before she even considered having sex with anyone, and that’s an idea he liked very much.
She considered the idea for long moments; after a couple of minutes, she said a very considered:
“I think I understand.”
Yes!
“Great.” Alexander replied, calm.
A few seconds of silence; sweet silence, before Clara thought of another intricate question:
“Hey Alex…how come we haven’t done sex yet?”
Alexander opened his eyes in shock, his hear leapt the very wrong way and he felt suddenly noxious.
“Wha-!” He interrupted himself to signal a pull over, for he needed to pull over. He killed all thoughts and images that had anything to do with her remark as he did so, and then looked back at a curious and interrogative little girl.
“What in blazes do you mean?!” He asked, aggravated.
“What? You don’t love me, brother?”
“Of course I do, above all else.”
“Well, me too…” She stated in all honesty.
“That’s-…that’s the not the point.” Alexander said, before stopping his thoughts for a breather. He backtracked, feeling trapped.
“Look, sis. There are various types of love: Motherly, fatherly, brotherly, sisterly, cousinly, even friendly love. One thing is to enjoy another’s-“ “hihi…” Clara giggled, despite the obvious efforts not too.
Alexander frowned, suspicious, then carrying on. “One thing is to enjoy another’s company, be concerned about their well being and so on…another is to have a particular interest in that person.”
“Interest?”
“Gah! Uh…” He looked on as Clara’s face squirmed, clearly enjoying something very much. It was then Alexander understood she was playing him for a fool, so he decided to play back.
He looked away, talking in a fed up tone:
“Look, sex involves the penis and vagina. It’s messy and-”
“ALEX!!” She screamed, blushing embarrassed, while kicking his chair.
“What? You wanted to know.” Akashi played the clueless part.
“I already know! I already know!” She said, in a pleading tone whilst covering her ears.
“Then why’d you ask?” Alexander questioned, as he drove the car, again on his way home.
Alexander smiled, enjoyed, as he drove. Clara was hugging her school bag, looking away in shame.
“Why did you ask?” Alex interrogated. “I would think the school to teach stuff like that.”
“I asked to see you wridle in embarrassment, Alex.” Clara replied, prideful.
“Wridle? …do you mean writhe?” Alex asked, curious.
“Ah!” She shoved her head in the bag, shouting “Nooooo…!!”
“Hahahaha…don’t feel bad, sis. It’s a tough word. Did you learn it today?”
“Yeah. My teacher knows all these neat stuff!” She pointed out, amazed.
“Well. That’s good. Like what?”
“Like wriddleth!”
“Writhe.”
“Noooo!” She screamed again, into the bag. Alexander laughed, amused.
“But you did know, then? What sex is?”
“Yeah…” She replied, apologetically. “Know what else I know?”
“What?”
“Bro didn’t fall down some stairs…”
Suddenly heart-struct, Alexander fell silent, feeling guilty. Thinking for a moment, a quick moment, Alexander thus decided to give up even honesty, for his sister.
“Oh, but I did Clara. It was humiliating, you would’ve liked it.” He joked.
“No I wouldn’t…” She denied, frowning confused.
“You look like it hurt a lot.”
“It actually didn’t. I look worse than I fell. It looks worse than it is.”
“OK.” Clara conceded, gullible. “I’m happy for you, big bro.”
“Hehe, thank you for the concern, little sis.”
And that was that, how it started; how most relationships start to swirl and whirl towards a frustration-filled oblivion…an obvious lie.

Take 13: A new friend and Sparring Sessions.

Alexander was someone that lived completely under the radar. No one ever noticed how the quiet guy spent his time on the roof, how the guy that slept in morning classes still managed a B- average. No one paid him no mind, notice his presence…a feeling he got very much used too; in all actuality, too much so.
He no longer drank to an uncontrollable amount, in the evening. He wanted to be sober so he wouldn’t act like a retarded monkey, in the eventuality vocal contact would be forced upon him by the aspect of his marvel.
He had confirmed the violinist was a female, and a pretty one at that. Slender and short of olive colored hair, thing agile hands and wrists…a true doll. He had found out by attending the school band’s practice, for she would obviously be in it.
Truly, his infatuation towards her soul which, night after night, her strings laid 
bare was valorous indeed; it did not tire in the slightest, it did not diminish, nor falter. Every night, he heard her; even when she repeated pieces, was simply practicing some established tunes, he paid attention… mind wavering through thoughts and images dug out from his past, which warranted tears from his eyes.
She never seemed to notice him either; it was amazing, how he spent 2 weeks on this and he would have spent even more if he hadn’t been discovered.
On a Wednesday, Alexander was half-way through another session, enjoying it as usual, when he suddenly noticed the music had stopped. Startled and assuming she was leaving early, he opened his eyes and stood up in a startled jerk to flee.
But as he got up, he saw her right besides him, looking at him.
“AH!” He screamed, hopping uncontrollably thus loosing his footing; he fell on his butt, voicing out a mild and momentary pain. “ouch.”
Sat down, he looked up at her. She had her arms crossed, holding some kind of remote on her left hands, and looking at him judgingly:
“You’re that kid that sleeps in classes.” She pointed out, slightly mad at him. He was dumb-struct, in shock, looking at her while his face turned red with embarrassment. “You know, I don’t know whether to be flattered or freaked out right now.” She confessed, looking at his crumbled figure with keen, perceptive eye. In all honesty, he couldn’t answer that question either…
Still shocked, looking slightly scared but plenty of embarrassed, Alexander didn’t react at all. She frowned, uncomfortable, now herself becoming embarrassed due to his reaction.
“I’m not going to eat you, snap out of it.”
Alexander’s eyes finally forced him to blink, which woke him up from his shock-filled trance.
“Of course!” He said, a little too loudly. “Uh-sorry. I apologize for my sneaking about…it is improper of me.”
She faltered, surprised at his apology, at how he steadily put his words as he stood up, his expression and manner was completely different; it almost made her think she imagined that moment, when he looked like a frightened little boy, trying to process that the object of his secret admiration had found him out.
“I would think so.” She agreed.
He extended his hand for a handshake, greeting her.
“My name is Alexander.”
“Oh.” Surprised, she did by protocol, handshaking him: “Hannah.”
“A pleasure to finally meet such a skilled violinist.” He honestly said. “I apologize for creeping about, listening to you while hidden.” He immediately spoke, already having had his words picked out. “I was unsure as to if you would allow me to assist your performances, should I ask. Hence, a coward, I did not ask.” He smiled, both humbly and apologetically.
“Well, I would certainly deny the presence of a stranger.”
“That is that then, I apolo-“
“Don’t be jumpy. We are not strangers.”
“Oh?”
“You’re Alex, a friend of mine that enjoys my music and sleeps in classes.”
Alexander smiled and mildly laughed, even though his insides were combusting in unbelievable joy.
“You are Hannah, a friend of mine who plays the violin enviously, and is very trusting of crazy strangers.” 
“You’re not crazy.”
“Oh, you have no idea!” He joked, getting some giggles
“So why do you like my music?” She asked.
“It…” Alexander hesitated. He was surviving this social encounter by supressing emotions to best of his ability, by distancing himself to the point where she she’s just some person he’s talking too. To even think about her music stirred his insides to an almost manifesting level.
“I…you…” Thinking fast, Alexander replied. “I lack the words to describe it. Know simply that I enjoy it to a considerable extent.”
“Hehe. Well, I think you exaggerate.”
“A mere matter of opinion, Hannah.” Alexander spoke, shrugging.
“heh, I guess.”
“Well, I really must be going.”
“Why?” Hannah asked, curious.
“Urgent matters.” Alexander said, to keep from mentioning his sister.
“Oh, okay. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“If you so allow, yes you will.” Alexander said, smiling with gratitude.
He swiftly made his out of the school and into the car. There, he simply lay back, looking at the roof of his car, blowing an exhausted sigh.
“Fffffff…..!!” He grabbed his chest, and smiled.
Following the smile, came a laugh; he was smiling at the ridiculousness of his thoughts: he was part of a society, hence, it was stupid to avoid social interactions. It was stupid to let fear control…he had been stupid.
No more would he be stupid; he had two friends now and he had to deal with it…and boy had he waited for a chance. The very next chance, he asked Jay to meet him on the roof.
There, Alexander asked him:
“Would you mind, terribly, to spar with me? Once in a while?”
“Dunno. What’s ‘once in a while’?”
“At least once a week.”
“Heh. You’re not a fighter beneath me so sure, we can have some fun. Just tell me, can you stop if I ask you?”
“Of course. Don’t confuse fearless with demented.”
“I dunno. Last time you kicked me for no reason. I don’t want a sparring session with someone that’s out of control. I can’t guarantee I won’t mess up and leave myself mortally opened.”
“Bah, I’ll bring you a tazer.”
“What?”
“You’ll have a tazer with you, in case I don’t stop. Do you want a gun?” Alexander, asked, slightly offended.
“I get the point. Friday nights, we’ll do it every Friday nights. Gives me the weekend to heal whatever you do me.”
“Right.” Alexander concurred, smiling. “Thank you, Jay.”
“No worries. I don’t go to competitions so you’re the only guy I know that can put up a fight against me.”
“Haha. Well, I hope you are content with my performance.”
“Oh. I don’t doubt it.” Jay teased. “See ya Friday.”
“Until Friday.”

Take 14: Time skip. A girlfriend and the real truth behind school life.
And thus, new routines took over Alexander’s life. A sparring session on Friday nights with Jeet Kune Do proficient Jay, a writing session while listening to Hannah’s live performances, and a Sunday cruising around with his little sister. They were rather enjoyable months, full of joy and fun. Yet, there were a few problems: Clara heard one excuse after another, when Alexander was injured. Alexander downright avoided personal conversations with Hanah; she told him a lot about her, feeling she could confide in someone that genuinely just wanted to hear her music. He was capable of staying quietly in the corner, for hours, listening to her. She first opened up two weeks after he first started attending her practice sessions; she laid herself bare when she played, that was her art, and that was why, at that point, she felt her words wouldn’t bring anything new to what he already knew and understood…they would simply be curiosities.
But he refused to let her read what he wrote all the time, as well as allow her to meet him at the roofs, from where he normally came.
The only one who truly knew Alexander McAllister was Jay. He interacted with the drunk, and talked with the sober. He came to know Alexander’s past, as well as his present life style; how he behaved with a girl he did not wish to name. Jay was amazed at the sacrifice Alexander was able to make, the composure he was able to maintain, the fact he kept up with his training and studies…he kept his head straight based only on the joy produced by the girl and his sister. But he seemed intent in deteriorating his relationship with the girl.
“Stop being a pussy and open up to her.”
“I just can’t. It’d be like introducing the drunken me.”
“Would that be so bad?” Jay asked, receiving a sarcastic stare from Alexander. “You’ll be sober!”
“I’ll stutter, I’ll make a fool out of myself.”
“So what?! Better than being socially revolting!!” Jay never sugarcoated his words.
“She doesn’t need to know how dirty I am.” Alexander stated.
“Maybe you’re not that dirty! Maybe you’re just fucking damaged.”
“Hahahahaha…in the head right?”
“Mostly, yeah.” Jay flat out told him.
When he couldn’t convince Alexander McAllister, Jay decided to find out who the girl was.
It didn’t take long to find that out. Jay was pretty popular in school, especially due to the previous couple of years. He actually knew her from some years back. He resumed communication and started having lunch with her.
Time went by and McAllister’s hesitation and vague statements started to bother Hannah very much; the way he was affected by her music but refused to comment, the way he paid all the attention of the world to her, enjoyed her company as much as she his, but refused to go out on a friend’s date. It was confusing and frustrating and reached the point where she yelled out for answers, for anything, out of confusion…what was his interest?! It couldn’t only be her music, did he like her as much as she liked him??
Alexander bowed down his head and, again, apologized; she thus ended their relationship for the sight of him brought on her nothing else than discomfort.
Again, Jay was in the privileged situation of being in the other end of both their clamors. He saw as Alexander started spending his whole after-school time with his drinks, on the roof, depressing and gratuitously aggressive. She was also in a bad mood, mostly, disconcerted, and bluntly so, about Alexander McAllister.
So one day, Jay told her:
“You need to see something.”
“What?” She asked, impatiently.
“Just meet me at the roof’s entrance, 6 pm.”
“Hum, okay.”
Bewildered, she followed the invitation; Jay was already waiting for her, slightly concerned.
“Hannah. I am going to show you Alex in a state you’ve never seen before.”
“Truth serum?” She asked, jokingly.
“No…well, kinda. Look, it may very well shatter your concept of him, your image of him.”
“Good, because right now, it’s an ugly one”
“Well….”
“Just open the door.”
“Fine.” He opened the door and she saw Alexander at his drunken self. He was lying down on the ground, arms and legs opened with a bottle in the hand.
“This is what he does in the roof?! Get drunk? You’re right, I-
“-just give it a bit, Hannah.”
“hm?
“Wait ‘till he wakes up.”
“Okay.”
They waited for a bit, around 10 minutes, and then he finally moved. He stood up, screaming.
“I can’t do it!” He looked at the sundown, gulped down one whole bottle and then threw it. “I need dat music!”
Hannah shivered, slightly.
“Her damn soul seems to have come from me own!”
“What’s…what’s with the accent?”
“He learned to hide it in middle school, to avid trouble with xenophobic bullies.”
“My twin heart flows frim her strings, but I’ve ruined everythin’!! EVERYTHING!!!”
“Whoah…” Hannah reacted, surprised, as Alexander started crying.
“Dammit! Godammit, I love ‘er.!!” He abruptly shouted, punching the ground. “But I’m too much of a blasted coward…”
“I…HUH?!”
McAllister cried for a bit, a few minutes, before stretching his whole body in an effort to bad mouth the skies.
“DAMN! Why am I so evasive?! Why am I so afraid? Why am I hesitatin’ in resonating back with ‘er! Her soul resonates with me spirit, me spirit sings with her soul but it’s like- GAH FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCKKk!!!”
“My God…” Hannah reacted.
“So yeah. He’s a little different when he’s drunk.” Jay stated, looking as McAllister again started crying his heart out. “He’s more…honest.”
“I…why didn’t he ever say anything?”
“He’s socially retarded or something, he’s got quite the past.” Jay said. “Well, anyways, go be happy.” He pushed her and closed the door behind her, loudly.
Startled, she jerked to open it but then McAllister called out for her.
“Hannah?!”
Hannah nervously and awkwardly looked at the crumbled sad figure of McAllister and slowly waved at him.
“Hey…”
“Don’…what’re ye doin’-gah! WhatAAAre ye- no, you doin’ ‘ere NO! DoingeHEre, shit. Ah, sorry, I hum…”
“Alex!” She yelled, angry. “Why didn’t you ever say anything!”
“I…I huh…I…ffffffsssshhhhiiii..sssss.”
“I love you to!” She yelled. “I love you too and we’ve been months around each other and we’ve loved each other. Why didn’t you say anything??!”
“I…huh? Whhaaaa?” McAllister suddenly asked, completely and utterly confused.
She ran towards him. Startled and scared, he gave some steps back, missing them and falling on his butt. She leapt at him, and hugged him tightly, crying some tears.
“I…I…I…”
She jerked behind and earnestly kissed him. Alexander McAllister still had his eyes open; even drunk he was in complete devastating shock, as she kissed him. Letting go, she spat to the side, complaining:
“Gah, you smell horribly and I don’t care!” She hugged him again and McAllister was left with nothing but a heavy presence in his sides; something of a heart-warming, overwhelming power, stirring his lungs and chest. He laughed.
Alexander McAllister laughed like he had never laughed before; Hannah begun laughing too. They looked at each other laughing, crying out of laughter with contorted expressions, and they knew they were happy.
And thus McAllister officially began, then, a normal high school life.
And it was beautiful. It got to a point where McAllister only drank to practice, and not for the sole purpose of leisure, for Hannah and Clara were there for that.
His sister got to meet Jay and Hannah, which liked Alex’s little sister very much. Alexander started paying more attention in school, sleeping well, while arranging for actual dates with his new girlfriend.
He got to know Jay’s friends, who were themselves fighters, though of a much less caliber.
Life was good, McAllister had heard that every other school in the country was going through some serious problems, and so he was very happy his school was still regular, without much grief. But McAllister was soon to find out things were far from being perfect.
Alexander, after a sparring session with Jay which he won, after getting “soberish”, got to talk with Jay, as always.
There was one week left before that school year was over, and Jay, that day, approached him with a completely different tone.
“Alex.” He called seriousness.
“Whoah, man.”
“No jokes, listen to me.”
Alexander shut up, seriously concerned, thinking one of their friends had gotten hurt.
“Look, I dunno where how to start this conversation, but let’s start like this. This school wasn’t always so peaceful.”
“Peaceful? There’re fights almost every day, the teachers go around kinda scared. Pranks every day…”
“Normal high school. Not like all the other high schools in this damn country.”
“Well, when you compare it to them, yeah…”
“Listen, stop interrupting me. This school wasn’t always like this. You know why I’m so popular around here? Because I’ve saved almost everyone’s ass from delinquents.”
“Wha-?”
“Yeah. When I got here, this highschool was as bad as any other. Why do you think your middle school was so violent? The thing is, they seem to leave girls alone in middle school, target geeks and weak boys, more like your average bully with an added bit of violence.”
“I’ll say.”
“But in High school? Man, you have no idea the fucked up shit that goes on. It’s bloody anarchy. First weeks I didn’t move a muscle, then some idiots tried to rape a girl right in front of me, and she looked like she wouldn’t even put up fight, like it’s just another wendsday.”
“Whoah…”
“Yeah. Happened three years ago. I was like, fuck that shit! I put them all in chairs for life, or at last I hope so. But then? A whole gang showed up at the school’s step. I held my ground, fightin’ ya know? And I pushed them away, cuz I brought my whole fucking dojo to this school’s steps. We were scattered throughout three schools, I gave the idea and mobilized us all on this one school and stomped my foot down!”
“Wow.”
“It was a violent year. They kept coming back, they even brought weapons. Chains, knifes, fucking swords. We even had to deal with a pistol once. It was insane. But then, around the end of last year, they stopped hounding the school. The guys that attend the school and were always so intent in making trouble started easing up. I thought we had made a difference, it was done. Remmy them mentioning Mike?”
“Yeah, he’s your friend that died, right?”
“Took a bullet for me, man.”
“Jeez.” 
“Fuckin’ right.”
“But it worked, the highschool’s-”
“No, it didn’t.” Jay said, lowering his voice. “That’s what I thought too, but it didn’t. The other day I was walking around…they’re waiting for me to leave.”
“What?”
“My dojo, our trainer died a year ago. So we haven’t had any more students. I’m with the youngest batch, and we’re all graduating this year.”
“Whu…?”
“Exactly. There’s no college in this whole country. We gotta go abroad, and that’s…”
“The school will go back to its old self.”
“Without us, that’s certain. These past weeks, haven’t you noticed?”
“What?”
“The bullies have been way too quiet. They’re always creeping about, having a smoke and talking, smirking confident. Back then, the schools weren’t so bad, this was one of the worst. But now? Now, all school’s seemed to be taken over by anarchy or, in my opinion, by a gangue.”
“A gangue?”
“Whatever. Whoever. They’re planning a take over. They’ll probably do it at the start of next year.”
“I…I don’t get where this is going.”
“I’m saying you’re this school’s only chance. This country’s only chance.”
“WHAT?!” Alexander asked, as Jay’s idea connected. “No way, I’d have to walk around all day drunk, to be able to NOT get my ass kicked. And I can’t do anything on my own, against so many people. If it IS a gangue, all schools will come here if they’re so intent on taking this over. A drunken monkey will make no diff-”
“Look!” Jay shouted. “Fuck, shut up and listen to me. Without this school, every kid in the damn country won’t have a normal school to go too; teachers will eventually give up on us.”
“What is this???! Where’s the police, where’s the.”
“That’s why I think it’s a gangue. We tried the police, but they didn’t want to believe us. The teachers never leave the schools or complain, even though they spend most of their time in the lounges, doing nothing. The information about this is being deadlocked somewhere. If you go directly to those who can make a difference, they won’t believe you because the deans of the school will report that everything is okay. The buildings don’t even have graffiti. But inside, it’s hell! The schools are being run by someone with a pull who’s making damn sure only those controlled by him graduate. I don’t know anything beyond that, and what I know is mostly speculation. What I do know is that the rest of this school can’t fight for shit. Me and my friends are all moving abroad with our families, there’s nothing else we can do. After our teacher died, after two years of cuts and bruises and attacks on them about which the police don’t give five fucks about, they’re all going and taking us with them. We can’t make a living on our own, so that’s that.
But you! You beat me almost in every fight, and with your bat! You almost kill me every time you use that bat of yours. You can make a difference.”
“But Jay…I…how can you ask me to fight? If I die, my sister will be on her own, Hannah will be on her own. Even me getting hurt will worry them, how can you ask me to do that to them?”
“How can you ask ME not to ask you?!” Jay questioned, offended. “You sister will get to high school after you leave! Hannah’s a beautiful girl and is only leaving in two years! More and more children will come to make a life, to get through highschool in one piece and their only chance is you!”
Alex looked as Jay pointed at him, aggressively. He couldn’t even believe this, he couldn’t believe Jay was asking him to practically commit suicide.
“Fuck you! Me save a country? Are you out of your damn mind??!”
“Get people! It’s a harsh world out there, there are bound to be more like us, that learned to fight. Find them, form a line of defense, leave behind a generation of shields.”
“Why don’t you leave behind a generation of shields?”
“I AM FUCKING TRYING TOO!!” Jay screamed, getting up enraged. “FUCK!” He jerked his arms. “Listen to me, please; you have to help these people. This is the only high-school in miles and miles where people can send their children with some amount of trust. Why do you think this school’s so crammed and loaded with people??!”
Alexander reacted, shocked. His memories of this last year filled him with the truth. Every class room is packed, there about 10 classes per year, each one of 40 students, 30 of which attend classes. There are only around 6 to 7 teachers who always look like they’re dying, but attend all the classes and keep teaching.
“I…I…dunno if I can. I promised to avoid fights…for my sis, for my-”
“Shit, if only I had noticed it sooner. I’ll do my best to find more people to fight these delinquents, in the time I have left. In the mean time, think it over.”
“Jay…”
Jay turned around, a tear unexpectedly falling from somewhere on his face. He left at that.
A day later Jay was walking around, looking at everyone with a judgingly expression, from under his sunglasses, trying to stop anyone that looked tough. Hannah approached him.
“Jay!”
Jay didn’t stop walking, looking around.
“Jay!” She called again.
“It has to be done.”
“Why him?! How can you ask that of him??”
“It has to be someone. If there was anyone that could it I would let them do it, but there’s not, so it’s gotta be Alex.”
“How can you ask him to risk his life? He suffered so much already, at the hands of strangers.”
“He will suffer nonetheless. Next year, this school will be hell unless we ready for it.”
“He has to be drunk to fight! You mean for him to be constantly drunk???!!” She yelled out, everyone looking at her and Jay, some who shouldn’t be looking at Jay.
“What the fuck do you want?!” He asked, menacingly, so the thug-looking students would look away.
“Shit Hannah.” He looked at her, from under his sunglasses. “What do you want me to do, huh? They will come to raise every kinda hell you can imagine. You think I want this? You think I want Alexander to be my only shot?” He asked, nervous, a tear falling down his cheek. “You think I want to leave you two to your fate? This is all being pushed on us, and we just gotta fuckin’ survive. Alexander’s pretty smart when he’s sober, if he can get a force much like I did, he can plan it out so he doesn’t have too…he can do better. He can even…shit!” He reacted, looking around as more delinquents gathered around him, paying attention to all his words, talking amongst themselves. Hannah noticed it too, then.
“Whoah…”
“Clear out before I kick all yer teeth in.”
“Better do it now before you leave, huh?” Someone commented, from a crowd of students. Jay looked but couldn’t see who and Hannah was left with an overbearing feeling of fear.
“Tsk…” Jay looked at Hannah, talking to her in a low voice. “You know what drafted me to this fight? Right in this hall, in the wall behind you, 5 guys were gang raping this chick…I looked and they didn’t care I was noticing. She wasn’t putting up a fight, she had that expression you see on most people when they’re attending classes that bore them… ‘Annoyance of another day…but it has to be.’.”
Hannah was left shocked at his words.
“You came from my middle school, arrived here when I had cleaned up all the mess at the expense of Mike’s life.”
Hannah’s mind flashbacked to a pole that was carved into the school’s highest point, waving a flag saying: M.M.
“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing else to be done…” Jay apologized before continuing his stroll around school, leaving Hannah behind with a haunted look on her face.
“This can’t be happening…” She commented, feeling a void in her heart. “Alex…”


Take 15: A once in a lifetime prodigy. 

“Alex. I’ve found you 5 followers. They’ve already agreed to do it, but they don’t believe me when I tell them you’re the strongest.”
“5? Doesn’t that mean you don’t need me?” Alex asked, a little relieved; Hannah was by his side, they were all at the roof top.
“It isn’t me that’ll need you; it’s everyone that’s staying in this school. And they need a leader; they need your smarts, at least.”
“Pff, if I involve myself in any way, I’ll have to defend myself too.”
“They are weaker than you, but they’re not weak. Look…”
“I haven’t decided yet. And I think I’ll have to pass, I can risk leaving my sister alone.” Alexander replied, honestly. Hannah gripped his hand tightly, giving him support.
“Alex, please reconsider. I…I…reconsider.”
“Maybe you’re exaggerating.” Alexander said, smiling. “Maybe there won’t be any kind of war, or problems.”
“Ah…Alex, there will.”
“Maybe there won’t.” Alex pressed the issue.
Jay looked sideways, thinking, but there was no way to convince him. The thought of risking his life didn’t bother Alex, only of risking his sister’s. How could he fight that? He couldn’t.
“Very well, still, you can always change your mind. I hope it doesn’t take long.” He got up and turned around to leave. “And I also, more than anything, hope you’re right. I hope I’m mistaken in wanting you to carry on as this school’s boss shield…otherwise this place is going…” Jay sighed and left.
The next Friday, Alexander went to the roof for one last sparring session with Jay. Jay was getting late so Alexander decided to drink in advance.
He lost track of time and, when he noticed, he had been drinking for an hour now and Jay hadn’t showed up. Realizing that Jay might’ve taken his refusal too personally, and thus quit on their sparring session, McAllister decided to make his way down for an old school sneaky audience of Hannah’s practice lessons. He never imagined what he would find there.
As he approached the corridor, he heard a muffled scream which evidently belonged to his girlfriend. Suddenly sharp, he clumsily but nimbly hopped his way to her practice room. As he approached, he heard.
“Hope she’s still a virgin.”
He kicked the door open to find three students holding Hannah down, her pants pulled down; the guy in the middle that also had his pants down, pulled them up and turned towards Alex, walking in his direction.
“What the fuck do you want, piss ant?” He stopped next to him, looking down on him from his high statute. “Get the fuck outta here before I vehemently fuck you u-.”
The delinquent had nothing else to say, receiving a backhand straight punch to the chest, one too strong to handle. Air vacated his lung immediately as he unintentionally jerked his head to bow.
“ACK!” He complained again as Alexander sunk another back-hand finger punch on the top of the guy’s head. His heart was on fire, his lungs refused to complain as he breathed out to kill; his arm slingshot about, punching the fiend from all directions, as he gave small and clumsy steps forward, ‘till he got his mates to let go of Hannah and run to his rescue.
They attacked from either side, with high kicks, but McAllister bent his torso all the way back, kicking the guy in the balls and away; he fell on his back and rolled, getting up. The two leapt to punch but McAllister saw through their beginner’s speed. He steadied on a horse-back stance for a split second, focusing his eyes to an extraordinary level and moving his arms with the speed and accuracy of lightning. He pushed the arms of his foes to the sides with the back of his hands, and then turned his hands and thrust them forward, open palms, to hit the foes.
“Ain’t got the bloodiest of clues who ye gone n’ messed with now, fuckers.” McAllister did not crack jokes, did not smiled or laugh. He looked at the three with a murderous stare, a stare that scared them out of their wits, and then beat the living crap out of them all.
He ended up throwing them all out the window. Filled with rage and fury, he howled at the open night:
“THIS SCHOOL BE PROTECTED, FUCKKEEEERRRRSSS!!!”
The first time McAllister had seen Hannah naked and it had been in this situation. Alexander was, obviously, quick to decide to interfere. He was quick to tell Jay to introduce him to his future five companions. Hannah was quick to wish to stay home, and Alexander let her in light that her father was a cop. Crooked or not, he wouldn’t very well let her daughter be raped.
And it would be safer for her this way. And so, on the last week of that school year, Monday, Alexander met Jay on the roof.
“In a few minutes we’ll spar, to show our recruits what you’re made of. You okay with that?”
“Yes.” Alexander answered, serious. He was now a different youngster; a concerned, serious Alexander. He opened his bag, removed some bottles of gin and started drinking.
Jay stayed silent as he watched Alexander induce in himself a lot of alcohol. He felt bad about leading Alexander to what would be a painful future, but it had to be done. He just gulped down and looked away, as Alexander almost wet himself with the liquor.
Finally, after a bit, the five kids arrived.
“McAllister.”
“Oy?!” McAllister answered, looking at Jay.
“Meet our five recruits.”
McAllister squint his eyes and looked at them, trying to see through the haze in their eyes.
“Bah, lemme fight ‘em.”
“Oh C’mon.” The blonde one complained. “This is the guy that’s supposed to lead us? Look at him.”
“He’s the most experienced martial artist I have ever met.” Jay flat out said, shocking everyone.
“Why thank ye, dear, ya flatter me.” McAllister mocked. “Ya pussy.”
“How’s that Jay?”
“How about you start? Try and fight him.”
“C’mon on, now. I don’t want to hurt him.”
“I can’t hurt him, neither will you.”
“Bah, fine.”
“That’s the spirit! Bring yer tight cheeks over here, blondy.” McAllister called, motioning with his hands. He fell but rolled and immediately got up. Two of the group giggled somewhat as the blond also said.
“This is gonna be good.”
The first of the five had short, thick and spiked blonde hair, dark blue eyes and clear skin; he wore a deep blue bandana around his forehead, tied at the back; normal khaki pants, snickers and a Y shirt.
“Name’s Chris: Tai Boxing.” He said, with a confident smile.
“McAllistah: drunken fu, laddie.”
“Heh. Never saw one o’ those, let’s see if you’re like the movies make you out to be.”
Chris took up a position that was very much like boxing even though, obviously, his elbows were more stuck out. He leapt, leading with his right knee.
“Ups!” McAllister tripped on his right foot, falling over. He side-rolled and got up, standing up, and having dodged the attack. Chris frowned and this time front-stepped, launching a sweeping muscle, dodge by McAllister’s leaning head.
Chris looked, surprised, as he span around launching a straight kick that grazed a rotating McAllister.
“Watch.” Jay said to the other four. “I’m an expert in Bruce Lee’s theory of fighting. But next to this man, I am but a rookie.”
McAllister, after spinning to dodge the kick, ducked to dodge another sweep from the quick to recover Chris. He then tumbled on the ground, rolled a bit and got up to avoid Chris’s crushing knees.
“McAllister wastes a lot of movements to fight, a direct failure and the path to farther himself from the real kung fu. Easy way is the best way, simple is best, but McAllister’s overly complicated…or at least he seems to be.”
Chris again swiped his leg but this time McAllister leapt, opening his legs wide and positioning his hand on Chris’s foot, catching it with a wide smile on his face; he pulled on it, thus forcing Chris to hop with his other foot in his direction, while McAllister had pulled himself towards Chris who crossed his arms in front of his face, for defense.
But McAllister did not throw a hit, he leaned back and closed his legs on Chris’s arms and head and ended up throwing Chris with a hand-back-flip and a powerful grip of the legs.
“Don’t trust so much in power when ya got speed.”
The four started, surprised, as Chris got up, amazed, and McAllister wavered about in an unsteady stand, waving his arms around to give himself balance.
“Can you see it? Paula, you’re trained in Martial Tai Chi, can you see the flow?”
“I can see a flow, but I can’t…”
“It’s unpredictable, isn’t it?” Jay asked.
“Yes…I thought it was just plain chaotic, but it does follow a flow.”
“Be like water.” Jay started to quote: “You put water into a cup, it becomes a cup, you put water into a bottle it becomes the bottle; you put it in a teapot it becomes the teapot. Water can flow or it can crash. Empty your mind, be formless, shapeless…be water.” Jay smiled as McAllister leaned his torso to the left side to avoid Chris’s elbow, bringing up his left arm for a knuckle-punch at his armpits.
“Ow!”
“McAllister, in this state, is completely formless. He adapts to everything that happens and just lets the fight flow. He has complete control because he follows a perfect flow of movement.”
“Running water never grows stale. So you just have to 'keep on flowing.'”
“Exactly.” Jay concurred with another of the four, watching the match.
After that hit, McAllister let himself fall to that side, avoiding a kick that would make him flip around and probably head-butt the ground; Falling, McAllister took advantage of the fact his legs were bouncing and made them bounce in Chris’s other leg’s direction, tripping him over.
“Whoah!”
He let his legs continue their momentum, rolling on his back, stopping by grabbing hold of Chris’s shirt, and Chris had just now hit the ground. He pulled on the shirt and lift his legs for a hand stand, although he let the legs fall immediately as he torso went along for the ride and he ended on top of Chris.
But he pushed the ground and got up, hand-stand-flipping backwards twice before stopping on his tracks.
“Ye got nuthin’ on Jay; you still got your strengths though, just remmy there’s power in speed too.” McAllister said.
“Jeez, what the hell??!” Chris asked, sitting down confused.
Jay smiled and said:
“Bruce Lee said it himself: ‘Jeet Kune Do has no style, it can fit in with all styles’. Well McAllister fit it on Zui Quan masterfully and by himself.”
“Who’s next then, I want to know all of ya!” McAllister invited.
Jay looked at the drunken menace, who was standing on one foot even though he was waving his whole body for balance. Every moment he seemed like he would fall, but he didn’t.
“I can see it. He will never fall.” Paula stated, impressed.
Jay crossed his arms and honestly spoke:
“The man you see before you is, without a doubt, a once in a lifetime prodigy.”


 Take 16: Year over, only vacations are left.

On the last day of Alexander McAllister’s first year at his High-school, as the sun went down over the buildings far away, Jay looked over at the six shields that would protect the school against upcoming invaders; and one of them was sleeping.
“Don’t you think it’s kinda disrespectful towards your companions to be sleeping? I mean, they’re exhausted.”
“Whatever laddie. Gives them somethin’ to look forward too, aye?!”
“So you weren’t sleeping.”
“D’oh!” Alexander stood his torso up. “True dat, man. So who’s leadin’, anyway? In case we ever need strategy.” Alexander asked, lying down again, yawning.
“Well, that would be you Alex.”
“That would be sober me, laddie. Only thang I’m good for in this state is cracking heads open. And it still takes me a few minutes to get to this state, gemme?”
“Humpf, excuses after excuses. Fine then, you’re all wore down from fighting so here’s a pop-quiz. 30 grunts start breaking lockers in the women’s washroom, battle plan?”
“…we send Leo, he’s freestyle so he’s better around those spaces.” Chris mentioned, tired.
“No.” Leo argued. “We send in McAllister who greatly overpowers any of us. Why risk minions when the leader can take care of the problem without any risk.”
“Score.” Jay agreed, smiling. “A hundred grunts have the school surrounded with 25 at four different entrances, may be carrying weapons. Proceedings?”
“Split up, two weakest stay together.” Paula said.
“No.” Leo again argued. “Back off and force them to join at the main hall and the third floor’s main stairs. McAllister takes the stairs; we overwhelm the rest on the hall.”
“Leo’s got too much faith in me, no?” McAllister asked, before taking a drink.
“No, it appears he knows you exactly. Hum… okay, Leo, answer this one. 500 grunts encircle the whole school, packing chains, knifes and baseball bats, screaming that this is their turf, to surrender. What do you do.”
“Let drunken McAllister answer them-”
“We’ll FUCK YER WIENERS!!!!” McAllister interrupted, simulating what his reply would be.
“And then spread out through the first floor stairs, with fall back locations being second floor and third floor stairs. But I still don’t know if we could make it, 500’s a lot.”
“Bah! 200 for me, 100 for each of ya.” McAllister said, holding his bottle up.”
“You’re crazy.” Chris commented.
“He is. That’s why he’s gonna listen to Leo every time he’s drunk. Got it, McAlly?”
“Shur’ shur’.”
“Than that’s it. Train hard these vacations.” Jay said. “Got the feeling you’ll need it, when next year comes.”
It was stupid amazing. Alexander McAllister had had a rough life, but these last days seemed to have come out of a comic or something. Everyday, when he was sober, he thought about it and complained about it to Hannah.
“This is insane. I mean, 6 fighters join up to fight hoodlums who are supposed to be manipulated by some shadow gangue that has taken over all the schools in the country? And Jay calls me a prodigy? What is this??”
“I understand but…”
“I know. I remember, ok? It’s not his imagination, or mine, but it’s so unreal.” Alexander would lie on Hannah’s lap, and look at her. “It’s like…where’s the police? Where’s the sense in the world?”
“My father’s told me…most of the force is corrupt. It’s hard to tell because they still catch criminals and the like, but he notices how patrols divert from certain places randomly, how they’ve turned away teachers asking for help, calling them exaggerative and overly dramatic. It’s very weird but there’s not much he can do, he doesn’t know who to trust, even amongst his colleagues.”
“Jeez. I’m in a comic.” Alexander complained.
Hannah stroked his hair, calming him. Alexander sighed, tired already even before the supposed war began.
“You need to talk with your sister, be frank with her, for once.”
“I know…after this mess starts, I don’t know for how long I’ll have to be continuously drunk. What a mess.” He placed his hand over his forehead and turned it, to look out the window at the sky. “What a freaking mess.”
Later on…
“Sis.”
“Hm?”
“We need to talk.”
“hmm….?” 
That was the day Alexander came clean. He told his sister everything she was never aware of. His drinking habits, why their mother died, how good he was at fighting and at what price…and finally he explained the situation just as Jay had explained.
“So you see, sis… I got to.”
“I understand, Alex. Lately I’ve been seeing lots of grown ups walking around my school.”
Alex opened his eyes, looking at her with some shock.
“What?!”
“Yeah…and my friends get beaten up a lot. One of the bullies’s got a crush on me, so that’s why I’m safe. I didn’t know you could fight though, I wuld’ve asked for your help already. Even my teachers normally walk around scared.” Alexander’s expression kept getting more and more aggravated as his sister continued to describe the situation, while curiously watching cartoons on the tv at the same time.
“It’s been really bad. Some of my friends are even getting harassed.”
“The girls?”
“Yeh.”
“But you?”
“Not me, like I said, bully’s got a crush on me.”
Bully’s got a crush…“It ain’t that bad in middle school, but in high-school…” “Jay told me about this girl that was being gang-raped right in front of him.” And Hannah was gonna be…and this…bully crush on my… Clara.
“You’ve always made sure that no one knew where you lived, right?”
“Yeh.”
“Never gave out an address or way to contact you, like I asked.”
“Hum…” She turned her little head at Alexander, witnessing an expression she had never seen on her big brother, who always wore a kind smile, even if a bit tired. “What’s wrong?”
“Clara…do you understand what I have to do.”
“Yeh, you’re like a super hero.” She said, looking at the TV. “See, spider-man. He risks his life for strangers every day. I’m very proud of you, bro.” She stated, looking back at him with a smile.
Alexander observed his sister for a second, before he started to cry. He then reached out and hugged her, putting her head against his chest.
“I’ll always come back to you.”
“I kowf.”
He pressed tightly, crying, thinking:
I don’t wanna fight... I don’t wanna fight… I don’t wanna fight!!! DAMN!
But he kept his mouth closed and just cried, as his sister hugged him back as best she could.
Then it was time to leave for his taxi rounds, but before he left, Clara told him something more.
“Alex…spiderman makes me sad though.”
“Hm?”
“He lives for others only. It’s good you’re protecting everyone, but don’t forget to live for yourself…Alex.”
Alexander breathed in, pumping his chest, what a mature young girl he had for a sister. He turned towards his dog, at that moment.
“If she’s taken and you’re still alive, I’ll kill you.” The dog’s response was an offended growl and intimidating stare. Alexander nodded, and left.
After the weekend, even though it was vacations, Alexander and the other five met at the rooftop of the school. He was sober and he looked over at the five, judgingly, examining them thoroughly.
Chris kept his bandana but, this time, was wearing a leather jacket. Paula was a girl with blonde hair cut to her shoulders, clear green eyes and well built; she practiced a style that didn’t demand much of her physique so she maintained a womanly figure, even though she was a powerful Tai Chi Quan practitioner. Wearing a closed vest and a girl’s Y-shirt with snickers and a short skirt, she was ready to fight without clothe-related inconveniences. Leo was wearing, basically, PE-like clothes, trousers and jacket; he had short black hair, combed and sort of greased to stay straight. He was a freestyle fighter, had always stood up to bullies since he was a kid and learned his own style. Francis was a red headed, brown eyed short kid, trained in Wah Nam Kung Fu; he wore his hair in a pony tail and was actually wearing some kind of uniform, orange Chinese-like clothing. Finally, Baako was a big black muscled guy, bald of brown eyes, currently wearing trunks as long as his knees and a naked torso, which knew Jiu-jitsu for self defense some years back.
Alexander talked with them about the situation in middle school as sign that things were about to get worse.
“We don’t know if they will really start making trouble, so in the beginning we’ll just be random-walking by fighters full of good will who happened to stumbled into the people making trouble. As they organize to pick us off, we’ll show ourselves to be a defensive faction. We’ll talk to the teachers so we’re assigned to classes on different parts of the school, and then these will be our pre-determined paths to and from our clubrooms, cantina and outside.” Alexander explained, handing them the papers.
“Wow, you’re so much different when you’re sober.” Francis commented.
“Can’t we just walk around, beating up whoever’s doing stupid stuff?” Chris asked.
“That’s the point. These routes will make sure our… ‘walking around’ is more liable to find them, that’s all. It’s a big school.”
“Still, I won’t be able to memorize these.” Baako pointed out.
“Walk around with them and check up on them. Well, I am meeting the principal in about ten minutes, anyone want to come with me?” He asked.
“I’ll go. I’ll have no problem in memorizing these.” Paula stated with a proud smile.
“Alright, rest of you stay here and spend time somehow. We’ll be back in a bit.”
“Don’t anything I wouldn’t do, man.” Chris said.
“Got a girlfriend, Chris.” Alexander replied, closing the door behind Paula.
“He has?!” Chris asked. Leo slapped his forehead.
“It’s that violinist, Hannah.” Francis pointed out.
“You know, these are actually very good. It will be a while before the people we beat up realize we’re hounding them.” Leo commented.
“Well, our leader has been praised by our strategist. What a great day.” Chris sarcastically remarked, putting the sheet of paper in his backpack.
“You got too much of a tongue, man.” Baako commented.
“It’s one of my weapons against the enemies.” Chris replied, smiling.
Meanwhile, at the principal’s office:
“What do you mean the teachers are all retiring?!”
“And me too. I’m closing this school before it becomes another haven to hoodlums!” The short old geezer said, waving his arm around energetically. “It’s obvious what’s going to happen now that Jay and his friends left, we’ll get out while we still can, before they enslave us, like all the other schools’ teachers.”
“Enslaving is too much…” Paula commented on the side.
“But principal, there will be no other school where kids can go to graduate. It will be-”
“Not my problem. Not our problem. We signed up to teach kids, not be their slaves!” The principal complained.
“Again with that word…” Paula commented to the side again.
“But…”
‘…you’re this school’s only chance. This country’s only chance’ ‘Without this school, every kid in the damn country won’t have a normal school to go too; teachers will eventually give up on us!’ Even though I don’t want to fight, even though this is reason enough for me to give up I… ‘bully’s got a crush on me.’.
“We’ll substitute for Jay!” Alexander said, firmly. Paula looked at him sideways, impressed at the lack of hesitation. It was something she hadn’t seen yet.
“That’s good, but you can’t. There’s nothing he would be able to do, we got by on reputation only. They probably didn’t want to bother when they just had to wait a year, I doubt they’ll do the same this time. I’m sorry, my boy, but we can’t risk our lives like this.”
Alexander gripped his fists tightly, his heart mysteriously burning with a will unlike any he had ever felt before.
“We’ll do it!” He screamed, kneeling down to beg. “We’ll risk our lives to protect this school, to protect you!”
Paula looked down at Alex, and then at the principal who was also very much surprised at Alexander’s attitude.
“I…I’ll talk it over with the teachers. If we have enough, at least I’ll stay too.”
“THANK YOU! We will not let you down.” Alexander promised. Paula looked at him, slightly intimidated. She felt some pressure at that promise. When the two went back, Alex asked Paula not to tell the others of the conversation. Arriving at the roof, Alexander said:
“We talked it over with the principal. He’ll help us get classes where we want. We’ll do our routes. If we want to ask for help, just scream help, it’ll get across to another one of us.
At the end of class day, we’ll meet back here and talk it over. We need to know all that went during the day so we can decide together when to start actively protecting the school as a territory, instead of simply patrolling its halls.”
“Hahahah.” Chris laughed.
“What’s the matter?” Francis asked.
“It’s just. Ever since Jay approached me I’ve felt like I’ve been in a comic book. 6 martial artists band together to defend the last free school of the country against senseless hoodlums, unaware that a shadowy figure lurks in the background, pulling all the strings.” Chris narrated, ominously.
“So what’re we doing during vacation?” Baako asked.
“Hey, don’t ignore me!” Chris demanded.
“I don’t know about you guys, but I will be training non-stop.”
“Wow, you’re really taking this seriously.” Chris commented, grinning.
“I don’t want to die.” Alexander spoke plainly. “If any of you decide to train, I’ll be here most of the days of the week, on this roof. Meet me here so we can train each other.”
“Whoah, don’t have to be so gloomy, man.” Chris said, uncomfortable. Alexander looked at him threateningly and then at all the rest, finally pointing his hand towards the flag that represented the highest point of the school: ‘M.M.’ 
“Mighty Mike. He took a bullet for Jay. We’ll be risking our lives for everyone in this school, for future generations of students. Get that into your heads and make your final decision.” Alexander asked. “Will we fighters stand together, or be picked off by the enemy?”
“The enemy…” Chris said, not able to hold himself, but Paula cut him off, grabbing Alexander’s shoulder.
“We stand united.”
“Yeah.” Francis concurred.
“We’ll crush their heads, no worries.” Baako mentioned.
“United we stand.” Leo remarked, smiling.
“Hahahhaa, this is so awesome! Ahem…You can count on my strength!” Chris said, flexing his arm to show muscle.
“Hm… see you tomorrow then.”
And that’s exactly what these sensational six spent their vacation doing, training their physical abilities to fight. They would arrive on different times, some days Leo would even sleep there, and fight each other until they collapsed.
They fought for the whole two months of summer vacation. And on the day the principal called Alexander to meet with him, Alex followed a little worried, accompanied by Paula.
“Hello, boss.”
“Humpf.” The principal reacted, grumpy. “I didn’t think I’d be forced to keep my word. But 3 teachers remain and I got 4 from abroad who want to come to make a stand. Ironically, yours will be the reign with the most teachers. And like I promised, I’m staying too.”
Alexander smiled, from the heart, and then fell over.
“Is he drunk?” Principal asked.
Paula had, thus, to explain the necessity for Alexander to be drunk. The principal was quick to comment.
“But that’s not good for his health. He won’t be able to keep up with school, and might even have serious internal injuries, organ failures, how-”
“He knows.” Paula interrupted, looking at a sleeping and sore Alexander McAllister as he violently snored. “And yet he’s been training every day. And yet he’ll be ready every school-day to fight.”
“…take him.” The principal requested.
“Yes, I apologize for the inconvenience.”
“Just tell him…tell him we’re counting on all of you.”
“I will try.” She replied, carrying him out the door.
What kind of hellish past must this guy have…to be this dedicated to this?

Take 17: The beginning.

“’Tis such a beauuuuuuuutiful day, laddies! GOOD mornin’ to ya all!!!” McAllister greeted, as he walked past his fellow students, on his usual rounds, from his class room to the cafeteria.
As he was walking, he noticed a guy wielding a butterfly knife, with it next to this first year’s neck.
“Gimme yer money, man.”
“UPS!” McAllister yelled, having trampled over his feet. That lead to him falling over in the bully’s direction, smashing his baseball bat on his head, knocking him out cold. Both the bullied and people in vicinity just looked in shock at McAllister’s bundle.
“Why shit! I’ve just gone n’ hurt someone. Oy now, are ye well?” McAllister asked, while getting up.
“Herm…thanks?” The bullied thanked, confused.
“Nothin’ of it, my good sir. Some take this poor bastard to the infirmary or sumthin’, he’s bleedin’.” McAllister said, not even a bit worried, as he wiggled away.
During the first days, it was just minor things that were still too violent to pass about. All six of them confiscated any weapons they got, and neither of them went easy on these hoodlums. As scheduled, every day they met on the roof to discuss what they had seen.
And it seemed that the events increased by the day. Alex was dumbfounded.
First day, 4 delinquents put down. Second day, 7 delinquents put down. Third day, 7 again. Fourth day, 9.
“Where are all these people coming from?! Bit by bit, we’ve almost hit the 50 mark.” Francis asked; as Alexander finished puking his stomach clean, to rid himself of alcohol.
“BLLLEEERRGHHH. Gah…shit! BLLEEERGGGHHHh.” 
“That’s nasty.” Chris commented.
“That’s necessary.” Francis pointed out.
Paula frowned, seeing Alex going through such a thing just so he could immediately convene with them was disturbing. Was there anything he wouldn’t do?
“When we hit 15, we’re closing our borders.” Alexander said, as he wiped his mouth off, and closed his barfing bag. “Agreed?” He asked.
“It makes sense. What if they attack us first?”
“It’s irrelevant.” Alexander replied. “The first contacts, they will be underestimating us. We only have to worry when they overestimate us; we have to be able to tell. That’s all on you, Leo.”
“I know…” Leo said.
“Still, this is turning out to be fun. I already got the number of these two chicks? Heeeaavenly legs.”
“Ugh.” Paula reacted.
“Your free spiritedness is good, but never forget-”
“It’s serious business.” Chris said, imitating Alexander’s voice. “I know man, don’t worry.”
“This will get a lot worse before it gets better. Francis had a point about the numbers.” Leo mentioned.
“Indeed.” Paula agreed.
“Don’t worry, friends.” Baako said. “We’ll stick together and bash them all, hahahahaha.”
“…quite.” Alexander commented.
Fifth day, 12…and then came the second week.
Troubles begun in a much larger scale and in a much faster manner that Alexander had anticipated; on the sixth day, at the meeting on the roof, Chris showed up injured.
Slightly limping and grabbing on to a bleeding arm.
“Chris!” Paula called out, concerned.
“What happened?!” Baako interrogated.
“BLEEEEERRGHHH.” Alexander puked, once again. “shit.”
“They ambushed me. Shit. Damn my fucking ego.”
“What happened?” Francis asked.
“RRRROLD RRROOON!!” Alexander requested, as he finished puking. They waited. Even Chris didn’t comment while he waited for Alexander to stop.
As he stopped, he cleaned his mouth with a paper towel, put it along with the puke and closed the bag. “Did anyone but Chris have to intervene today?” Alexander asked.
They all answered a suspicious no.
“Then the count is 16.” Chris said. “I nailed two bitches with my both elbows, but just then shoved a butterfly knife on my arm, and then 13 more suddenly jumped me. They all looked normal students”
“We need to-”
“I know; he needs to be ready tomorrow. We’re closing the school’s borders, only students get in.”
“How do we…?”
“I already have the teachers’ charts and books. We’ll cover the two main entrances, Chris will be with m-Cough Cough!- ahem. Chris will be with me. Paula and Leo cover the other one, Baako and Francis will literally stand guard on the two accessible windows. Now let’s go, I’ll take Chris in my cab.”
“Fuck. Sorry guys, I’m such a…”
“That’s alright. You’re still with us.” Leo asked.
“Of course!” Chris answered, offended.
“That’s what matters, really.” Alexander honestly remarked. “As long as you don’t give up, classes will go on.”
The next day, all the students came across the same visage, on both entrances: two students, list in their hands, checking up on everyone’s name as they go in the school.
“Michael Fakat…yeah, go ahead.”
“Sonya with a y, right?”
“Hum, yeah.”
“Go ahead, then.”
“What was that, laddie? Zeke?”
“Yeah…is it allowed to drink here, I didn’t know that.”
“Not findin’ yer name ‘ere, Zeke. That a nickname?”
“But why do I need to give you my name? Just lemme in.”
“I will if yer a student.”
“Why’d I be here if I wasn’t a student???!!” He yelled, menacingly. McAllister looked up at the tall young man, with a curious face. Before the ‘student’ could react, McAllister swiped his baseball bat, violently hitting him in the head.
“To get yer brains splattered on the floor, fer instance!”
“HEY, what the fuck?!” Another ‘student’ yelled, pushing others away as he and his 6 friends made their way towards Alexander.
“Alright then, Chris, ‘tis time. EVERYBODY clear out so we can put out the garbage.”
The six of them drew knives, rushing forward as the crowd opened up a path showing a few more.
“Make sure nobody gets in without we knowin’, Chris. I’ll handle this.” McAllister ordered, as he stumbled forward.
McAllister thus dragged himself and the bat in the direction of the would-be invaders.
The first invader drew a knife and stopped a little away, pointing it at Alex.
“I’ll cut you u-”
The lack of distance was suddenly cut up as Alexander accidentally tripped, bringing his bat into a full power-fast strike at the top of the guy’s head; McAllister put his left hand in front of him, so he wouldn’t completely fall after breaking the guy’s head.
The others didn’t flinch, but rather charged Alexander who pushed his body up using only his left arm. He moved his bat, placing its tip behind him so he wouldn’t fall backwards, but mostly so he could balance his back on his right hand that was grabbing it, once he hopped.
He lifted his legs and kicked two of the enemies’ chins, breaking their jaws. He then spin-flipped his body, using his right arm as the support axis, and landed behind the bat, bringing it up to smash another guy’s jaw.
“GAUUUGHH!!” The violence of McAllister’s bat blows was indescribable. One down per very violent blow finally made the rest of them stop in their tracks. McAllister almost fell down again, but at the last moment he leaned on the bat again, looking at the remaining three foes.
“What’s wrong, laddies? Afraid are ye?”
“Why’re you doing this?!”
“You have to bloody ask? That’s just insultin’!” McAllister shouted, laughing afterwards. He noticed then that he was being observed by all the students who were yet to enter the school.
“Because this school’s off limits to those who don’t bloody attend it; I’ll enforce that rule with pure violence! No second chances, no warnins… try to defile this school and we’ll kill ye.”
“Motherfucker.” Another would-be invader, that was obviously not a student, stepped forward. His hair was white even though he was still a young man; he had an orange round cap, a gray scarf around his neck as well as sunglasses and the rest of his orange themed attire, readied for cold.
“You think you can do what that negro did?!”
McAllister looked at him, squinting his eyes.
“Who the bloody hell are you?!” He asked, offensive.
“None of your conce-.”
“-They call him Magus, he’s a boxer.” Chris infromed, from the gate.
“…”
“Oh, so what do ya want, ya pansy?” McAllister asked.
“Just to tell you to quit it if you don’t want to die.”
“Hahhaahahahhaaaahh.” McAllister laughed, at the ridiculous thought that he could defeat him. “You won’t even be able to touch me, laddie! What’re ye talkin’ about??!”
“Perhaps I won’t. But we got all the high-schools of the country on our side. We could’ve taken that negro and his Bruce Lee wanna-bes down whenever we wanted, we simply decided to wait a year. No harm done, show him some sympathy for the extraordinary fight he put up. But our-”
“-UUuaaaahhhhhhh” McAllister yawned. “Sorry, laddie. Do continue, I’m interested…”
“…We’ll return tomorrow morning, we’re going to kill you and all others. We very much prefer a passive take over, but you just brought on yourselves an aggressive one. DEAL WITH IT!”
“Dat’s it! Cam’ere, ya bastard.” McAllister replied, pissed, as he pushed on the bat to start a run. Magus smirked and turned around, walking away. The other three stepped in to stop Alexander. Who brought the bat to his front for a downward swipe; the one in the middle flinched and blinked, as the bat almost hit him.
The bat hits the ground and Alexander pole vaults from it, jumping over the three, and straight into a route to intercept Magus. 
“Ma-”
Before they can warn them, the bat collides against his head, smashing it open. Alexander crashed on the floor, but he was quick to roll and stand up, turned around at the three others who had kneeled, and were now shouting:
“We’re sorry! PLEASE!!!! Please don’t kill us!!”
“Yer just three of ya, so whatevah. Gou, if you come back I’ll kill you then.”
Crying and scared, the three fled the scene.
“What do we do about the rest of them?” Chris asked.
“Just leave ‘em ‘ere. Somebody is bound to pick ‘em up. Alright, ladies: everyone who’s a student, carry on inside!” McAllister shouted.

Chapter 18: The will to keep fighting.

“John! Pay attention to class.”
“I’m sorry teach, but I can’t.”
“And why’s that, Mr.-”
“Just look outside teach, it’s…”
“What?” The teacher moved and looked out the window to see what the student was talking about.”
What she saw was unbelievable. The school gates had been closed, and outside stood three students of that college, looking on to a crowd of other young men.
“What’s happening?” The teacher asked.
“I heard them yesterday…” One of the students in class spoke out, as he walked to the window to witness it. “They said they were intending to do a passive take over, but that Alexander pushed them into doing an aggressive one.”
“Alexander?” A girl asked.
“Haven’t you heard? He’s the drunk who’s been beating people with a bat.”
“Not people, hoodlums.” The teacher pointed out.
“He’s still too rough on them.”
“You kids shouldn’t talk like that about him, about any of them.” The class president said. He looked older than all of them. “Each and everyone in that huge crowd would not even flinch before putting you in a coma for the hell of it. Those of us who’ve seen the state of the other high-schools in the country know what that crowd represents.”
“What?”
“The other high-schools in the country… they’re filled and controlled with that scum.”
“Oh! What’s that??!” One of the kids shouted, everyone in the class looked out the window and witnessed as the crowd came closer.
“No way…”
Meanwhile, back at the main gate, McAllister reacted violently at the invaders’ march.
“Bring it on, ya pansies! I’ll kill all of ya bastards!!!” He screamed, waving his around to the point he falls over.
“Alex, calm down.” Leo demanded. “And you guys! What the hell do you want??! Back off.”
“Get out of the way or we’ll kill you.” One in the crowd said.
“The gate’s closed!”
“We’ll bash it open. We’re here to raise hell, after all, hahahahahahaha.” Another of them said, inciting a laugh that most followed.
“Jeez…there’s like a hundred of them.” Leo commented to Paula, at his side.
“Can we really do this? Most of them have knifes.”
“I’ll take fifty of ‘em. You guy take the rest!” McAllister said, out loud, completely confident in himself. The crowd stopped for a bit, the ones in front looking at McAllister a little disturbed.
“Now, rush them!” Leo whispered, then saying out loud. “Time for a mother-fucking-miracle!” Leo started running.
“Huh?”
“YEEEAAHHH!!!” McAllister reacted, dashing off, clumsy as always.
“But I’m a counter-attack fighter!” Paula complained
“COUNTER-ATTACK THEIR ASSES, THEN AHAHAHAHHAAHA!!!” Alexander joked, baseball-bat-vaulting into the crowd, the ones in the front kind of flinch as McAllister flips in the air and brings his bat around and down upon them. Leo at his side leapt, chest front and arm brought back, ready to deliver one hell of a punch. Paula was right behind them.
The bat hits, knocking one down, Leo had done a feint and thus ended up lifting his right foot, shoving it in the face of the adversary. He opened his arms and punched the two heads at the side of his kick target.
Paula slid in at McAllister’s right, catching a punch that was waiting for her; she re-directed it towards her foot which rendered the opponent unbalanced and in the perfect position to take the punch she had re-directed with her other hand. McAllister had let go of the bat just after it hit the enemy, while it was still in the middle of the air. He then flipped for a hand-stand, completely confusing the enemy in front of him, and then he closed his legs around the bat and used them to thrust it forward; the bat hit the foe right in the head with considerable force, half-ricocheting back. McAllister brought it all the way back to the floor and then not only stood up but sat on the bat.
“HAHAHHAHAH” He laughed hard.
The guy behind the one who had just gotten his nose shoved inside, and now had difficulty breathing, pushed him aside and jumped at the laughing McAllister who kicked the ground and flipped backwards, using his other foot to bring the handle of the bat, which was on the floor, up at the guy’s chin. *CRACK!*
Alexander used his hand to do a handstand flip backwards; he landed and grabbed his bat the right way, finally.
Leo had now backtracked next to McAllister, but Paula was still there, thinking her back was covered .
“This is easier than I thought.”
“Hahahahaha, numbers don’t matter when they’re THIS WEAK!!!” McAllister screamed, making most of the crowd falter. “Let’s fuck ‘em up, laddie!”
Meanwhile, at the other entrance, Francis and Baako and Chris had formed a back-to-back triangle; slowly but surely, they were able to hold the crowd off, picking them off one by one since all their sides and backs were covered.
“FOR FUCK’S SAKE!!!” One screamed. “Just drown ‘em in bodies! RUSH THEM.”
“Ah, that’s funny, you thinking that will work.” Francis said, as he turned his side towards the rushing line of people; he took up a horse stance, breathed in and brought his punching right hand to his heart, then extending his arm to the side. The blow packed such strength that it expelled the rushing enemy against those behind him, halting the rush. Chris did a move he was very proud of knowing; he crossed his arms, sticking his elbows out, then stepped one foot to initiate a spin. He launched a spin, as if he had a slingshot effect, spinning around 7 times before extending his right foot for a thrust kick, perfectly timed…again the rushing front-liner was expelled back with such violence that it disrupted the rush. In Baako’s case, he front stepped a little and just kept grappling them out of the way, with little effort but big effect, breaking one limb per deflection.
Back at the school, every classroom with a window was flabbergasted, watching as three people took a hundred hoodlums, for them. As they fought for them.
“They’re…they’re doing it.”
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHHA!!!” McAllister laughed. “It’s funny how you’re probably putting effort into this, hahahahahaa!”
“No one can touch him when he’s using that bat.” Leo commented to Paula.
Leo and Paula were back to back, fighting and occasionally looking out to Alexander McAllister, to confirm if he was still in control of the fight, which he always was.
Paula redirected her opponent’s attacks to the sides, often against the enemies that were about to attack Leo’s flank, and so Leo was simply very quickly catching strikes and delivering one-hit-KO blows, by aiming for the head, neck, lungs, kidneys, etc. He was about interruption while Paula was about controlling the flow of battle, even though they were both saving strength, whilst watching the number of enemies dwell.
When their numbers were about 20, everyone pulled back and ran.
“Yeah, GO FUCK YERSELVES!!!” McAllister screamed.
“We’ll see how you’ll protect your precious students when SCHOOL’S OUT!!!” One of the fleeing crowd screamed, as they ran.
McAllister didn’t talk back; Leo and Paula looked at each other worriedly.
“McAllister.”
“Uh?”
“Vomit.”
“M’kay.” McAllister pulled out a paper bag from his pocket, and then shoved a finger down his throat, forcing his organism to spill out food and, more importantly, drinks. Minutes after he started to puke, he cleaned himself, and was sober.
“Am I remembering his comment correctly?”
“Yes.” Leo assured him. “How can we do it, Alex? How can we protect all these students if they’re not all gathered at the same place?”
“I…” Alexander massaged his forehead, fighting a mind numbing headache; thinking, he looked at Paula who was staring at him considerably worried.
“What’s wrong Paula.”
“Huh? Oh, hum…the students.”
“Let’s meet up with Francis and the rest of the guys. Then we discuss what to do.” Alexander said, more in need to clear the headache a bit than more opinions. 
The three of them sighed, and then walked back, opened the gate, closed the gate and headed inside.
“What’re we going to do? There’s no way we can protect all the students when they’re scattered throughout the-”
“WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!” A scream raged from a window, interrupting Leo. They all look at the window but then notice all the windows are covered with heads looking through them. All the students in classes at the window had popped their heads out, as they were able too, and cheered.
“YEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!”
“GOOOD GOING!”
“AWESOME!”
“YOU RULE!!!”
“THANK YOU!”
“WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”
“WEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
McAllister, Leo and Paula looked on, amazed, at the cheering that went on. They were acknowledging their effort, acknowledging their fight. Leo clenched his fists, smiling. Paula smiled, waving her hand at the cheering populace; she looked at Alexander who had a tear running down his cheek.
“All these people…they’re so many.” Alexander commented. “So many of them…”
Paula and Leo understood what he meant; they immediately felt like him, helpless, worried about the attacks that were to come.
“We have to do something.” Paula noted.
“There has to be a way, some way…” Leo told himself, thinking hard.
“There is!” Alexander suddenly said. “Think outside the box.” He told the two, and then turned his head towards the building.
“THIS SCHOOL WILL ALWAYS BE SAAAAAAAAAAAAAAFEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!” He screamed his heart out; immediately after, he crouched to cough his lungs out, but he did it in a manner it seemed he was bowing.
The cheering stopped for a second, it seemed as if everyone stopped to count to three and deliver a simultaneous, loud, and energetic:
“YYYEEEAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!”
Back at the roof…
“What?!” Chris asked. “Are you out of your mind?! You think you’re on a tv-series or something?”
“It’s the only way.” Alexander argued.
“It’s suicidal!!” Chris complained.
“It might be the only way.” Baako voiced his opinion. Chris looked at him, amazed.
“It’s not even a ‘way’, don’t you get it?”
“How else can we keep the enemy from attacking students when they’re alone? By keeping them busy with defense. By being enough of a threat that they will prioritize us above everything else. They’re just looking for the plan that’s less a nuisance to them, taking into account that any plan would succeed. So we need them to know that the only plan that can succeed is to spend everything they got on us.”
“We’ll die if they do that.”
“No we won’t. It’ll be too late.” Alexander said. “It’s a risk, it probably won’t work. But it has the chance to work, so that’s the plan I going with. We kicked 200 guys’ asses today, that ought’ve left their respective schools.”
As Alexander finished his explanation, Leo interrupted a counter-argument from Chris by landing from the building to which the door to the rooftop belonged. He was holding the flag that had M.M.
“We’re carry this flag with us.”
“Why?” Francis asked.
“Well, if we’re going to invade and conquer new territories, we should have a flag.”
“This is insane!” Chris said.
“It’s volunteer work.” Paula pointed out.
“Obviously I’ll go, it’s just…it’s insane!”
Alexander smiled…
“We’ll go take over every last school in this damn country.” He opened a bottle of vodka. “That’ll make them fixate on us, on stopping us.” He drank the whole bottle.
“I like the flag idea.” Baako remarked.
“Yeah, it’s cool.” Francis agreed.
Alexander McAllister threw the bottle at the ground.
“Never thought I’d be fighting for strangers.” He stated. “Never thought strangers would be able to give me such a will to fight!”
“Yeah!” Leo said, holding the flag up. “For Mighty Mike.”
“For Mighty McAllister!” Paula said.
“Hahahahah” Alexander laughed. “That’s a funny coincidence. Anyways, let’s go then…” He said, walking off whilst opening a second bottle.

Chapter 19: How far has the drunkard come. 

“WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU GUYS??!” A student, sitting at the principal’s chair, asked as his door was burst down by a very powerful kick from a muscular blonde guy with a moustache and beard. “Eric??!”
“Someone stood up to you! I’m joining in on the God damned revolution!!” He screamed at the senior hoodlum, who stood up holstering a pistol which he aimed at Eric’s head
“I’ll kill you, mothe-” The hoodlum is interrupted by a very polite arrow that lodged in his head, before he could put his finger in the trigger. It had come from behind Eric.
“That proof enough we’re no fuckin’ spies?” Eric asked to the side. McAllister was leaning to the wall, next to the door, he looked at this Eric and at the girl archer that was wearing a mask.
“Fuckin’ yeah.” He grinned. “Let’s help my allies clean the rest of this school. I hope we meet more like ya. Tell ‘em McAlly said you were okay. One thing though, don’t aim t’always kill ‘kay?” He asked, especially of the archer.
“I feel nothing for pigs like him.” She replied back, real disgust and hate in her voice.
“Well, not all pigs are like him.” McAllister pointed out.
“WOOOOW! C’mon Alicia, back me up, I’ve got a whole ocean worth of repressed-anger to dish out, Niagara Falls’ style.”
“Yes.” She said, following him.
“Heheheheh.” McAllister giggled, before heading the other way.
This was the first school McAllister and his friends had hit. The gate was open; there was no one to watch them go in. Apparently, all two hundred students had come from this school. They just walked in through the already busted front door, laying witness to stinking, graphitized, and basically destroyed halls which were full of holes, broken benches, broken lockers, it was horrible.
They entered a class room which was full, and discovered the whole class was taking turns in riding the teacher like he was a horse. They beat the crap of the entire class room, told the teacher to wait, got out and decided to split up, because there was no telling how many people urgently needed some help.
McAllister ended up in a gym class, where the gym female teacher was dancing for her students. Calling out names and threats, he quickly dispatched most of them, and this was also when he met Eric. He asked Alexander who he was, and what he was doing. Alexander explained everything as he beat the rest of them, being observed by Eric.
Eric urged Alexander to follow him, they went up a floor and stopped by the rest rooms, and Eric told Alexander to wait a few minutes and then went in the girls’ bathroom.
Alexander heard noises indicating heavy violence, bashing, crushing, things breaking, he heard girls screaming but, more than that, guys screaming their minds off.
Eric came out with another girl, dressed in archer uniform, wearing a ski mask.
He explained that the daily rapes, if they could still be called rapes, happened in the bathrooms, and that he had just broken every guys’ dicks in there. He asked to join Alexander’s forces to which he replied he didn’t trust him. The rest you can gather for yourselves.
It took little over an hour to make sure all the school had been taken care off.
After the fight, they all met at the roof, since they were to sweep a school from ground up. There, Alexander introduced them all:
“This is Eric and Alicia, Wrestler and Archer. This is Paula, Martial Tai Chi; Francis, Kung Fu Wah Nam; Leo, freestyle; Baako, Jujitsu; and Chris, Tai Boxing. We’re all in this together now. These are the rules, when I’m sober, I’m leader. When I’m drunk, Leo’s the leader. When there’s a shooter, everybody work to make sure you don’t get shot, but try and get an opening for Alicia. Alicia, if there’s a shooter; don’t worry about anything else other than bringing him down quick. And again, if it’s possible, avoid a direct kill.”
“Sure.”
“Why’re you wearing a mask?” Paula asked.
“She’s scarred.” Eric replied. “Leave it alone.” He simply said.
“Ah, ok. Sorry.” Paula apologized, frowning.
“Don’t worry.” Alicia replied. “Not your fault.”
“Right, we need to copy this flag, do you guys know how?” Leo asked.
“Why?” Eric asked.
“It’s our flag. It’s the initials of a guy that died protecting our school against these bastards.” Leo explained.
“Oh.” Eric recognized the honor. “I’ll get what we need. Alicia, go round up everyone we know will want to help.”
“What do you mean? There are more people that know how to fight?” Francis asked, hopeful.
“No.” Alicia answered.
“Hold on, they know just as much as most of the guys we’re fighting. Why do they have to be as strong as us to fight?! What if they simply want too??”
“They can get hurt.” Alexander said.
“They can make a difference!!” A voice yelled, from the roof entrance. “We can make a difference” A young lad shouted, remarkably angry. A friend was standing right besides him.
“You have no idea what it’s been like, our years here. I got a sister that’s moving up to high-school next year. And she’s told me of harassment in fuckin’ middle school.” The adolescent said. “This has to stop. This momentum you created…let us join it! Let us normal folk join you, we’ll stay back, we’ll just cheer, just let us make a difference against…against…” He cried.
“Whoever wants a piece of the enemy better have the strength to get it.” Alexander stated. “I won’t stop you from coming along, but know you will probably die.”
“…”
“I DON’T FUCKIN’ CARE!!!!” The friend said. “Beats being ass-fucked by some homo-rapist motherfucker!!!” He screamed, in tears.
That shocked them all, at the exception of Eric and Alicia.
“This is way worse than we thought it was.” Francis pointed out.
“It’s horrible.” Baako said.
“I…” Paula was without words.
“Fuckin’ kill ‘em…” Chris voiced out, under his breath. “Gather everyone!” Chris yelled… “CUZ WE’RE RAISIN’ NEW HIGH-SCHOOL ORDER!!!”
“ALRIGHT!” they ran back down the stairs, enthusiastically motivated to fight.
Alexander and his friends were left behind to talk, and they talked.
“This will reach proportions much greater than any we had anticipated.” Leo pointed out.
“Yes.” Alexander agreed. “That’s why we’re going to win.”
The plan was simple…grab vehicles, drive to the nearest enemy school, rush in and take over, raise flag, get back into vehicles and hit the next one. The plan gained a step called ‘recruit allies’ which considerably raised the probability of success.
Alexander had arrived at that school in one car; he left it in 4 cars and 2 bikes. The next school was considerably more difficult to take over, though they also weren’t expecting McAllister to arrive so they were also taken by surprise. Room by room, they worked their way up and ended up losing only 10 of the standard fighters; also, this seemed to be the school of the famed Magus, which was beaten by none other than violent Eric.
As the dust cleared off the hour long fight, Alexander puked out his alcohol, being observed by the exhausted, tired and sweating allies of combat.
“Fuck, I’m completely exhausted.” Chris commented.
“Yeah, I’m…”
“At least you’re not knocked out; poor guys can’t do much against knives and chains.” Paula pointed out, remorseful.
“At least they’re alive.” Leo mentioned.
“No.” Alexander spoke out, still half sick, pale and weak. “Using them as a fighting force was wrong, they’re back up. From now on, we do this the old way. We’re generals, they’re our soldiers. We even them out between us, that way they’ll do more damage, and get less…:BLLLEEEERRGHHH.”
“That’s smart.” Leo pointed out.
“Yeah.” Eric agreed. “Hey, look.” He said, pointed behind Alexander. They all look in the direction of the entrance to the roof, where a group of 5 males come to meet them.
“Hey, can we join you?” One of them asked, half hesitating.
“Anyone who wants a piece of them, has to have the strength to get it.” Alexander repeated. “You can join us, but know you’ll probably die.”
“S…screw it!”
“Yeah, I’ll get the rest of the guys. Motherfucker goin’ down!!!”
“Are we just going to keep at it? From now on, they’ll know we’re coming.” Chris pointed out.
“How do you know?” Eric asked.
“One of mine had a smart moment, decided to call someone while I was trying to push through his body guards. Guy called someone and told them about us.”
“More importantly…” Leo said. “we’re all soared and tired.”
“I know, that’s why we’re gonna wait till after lunch. They won’t eat, thinking we’re attacking them, we will.”
“That’s not enough to recover.”
“With any luck, it’ll be enough to recover enough.” Alexander said. “We can’t stop, or they will go after the schools we’ve left alone.”
“Nobody’s there.” Eric replied.
“What?” Francis asked.
“We told them to head to your school, tell them about what happened. We’ll do the same here.”
“What?!” Chris asked. “But there’s not enough roo-”  
“No, wait!” Leo interrupted. “This is good.”
“Yes.” Alicia concurred.
“If we stack our school with all students of other schools, then even if we don’t convince them to come after us with everything they have in time, our school will have enough people to defend itself, taking into account that the rest of the schools have to make sure they can handle us.” McAllister explained. “This is good. Do the same here…”
“Right.” Francis agrees, walking away.
“Anyways, we’ll rest here for now. Then we will continue Southside to the next high-school.”
So they stayed and ate and rested their muscles and breathed peacefully for a couple of hours. But soon, it was time to go again.
But as they left the school, boarding the cars and bikes they would be using, Alexander was approached by a crew of reporters.
Commenting to Paula his surprise on how fast they had been, he let himself be approached by the fast moving reporter crew.
“Sir, what is it that you’re doing, exactly?!”
No beating around the bush, it seemed; they were direct and straight to the point.
“We are clearing schools from scum who’ve been dicking around unpunished for too long.” Alexander explained. “There’s been all kinds of evil anarchist shit going on around high-schools in this country, but not ours. Some guys fought to keep the place safe, unpolluted, but they’ve moved on. Me and my friends joined up but then the trash said they’d attack our colleagues, students of our school, outside school ground. So we thought on how to keep that from happening, how to protect everyone…”
“And you’re answer’s to go around every school, beating people up into comas?”
“It’s not our intention to kill people, nor do we have that much of a necessity to inflict violence of any kind on them. But when you come to a school and you find girls being raped, groups doping it up in the teacher’s lounge while burning cigarette tips on the teachers, certain human instincts flare up, ya know? We grew up fighting, we learned how to fight, it would be irresponsible of us to look away from these kinda of things.”
“Surely you exaggerate?! We have reports of 4 dead already, and most of the boys you attacked and heavily injured: I mean, you’re carrying a metal club around, I can see the girl with a bow and arrow.”
“That girl was scarred in the face by the “boys” you’re referring too. It’s all fun and games and not that grave for you lot, sitting in your couch, reading about it. All fun and games while your kids’re the bullies. But it’s not funny when your daughter shows up unrecognizable, when your kid commits suicide ‘cause he just can’t take it.
These people can’t go through life without inflicting pain on others: they thrive on it, they enjoy it. It’s all pleasurable to them, all the havoc and terrible things they do. We have, maybe, the power to stop it, and we will.”
“How can anyone know this isn’t just a mindless crusade that you started, Alexander? You people are the ones attacking without provocation, hurting students no questions asked. This is the kind of fascist attitude you say you’re combating.”
“I’m not fighting fascists.” Alexander said. “I’m fighting criminals. Criminals that have some kind of protection against the cops, or something. It’s inexcusable, the state the schools are.”
“You really think you can convince everyone you’re doing the right thing, Alexander McAllister? You’re reportedly constantly drunk. Your friend with the bow’s responsible for two deaths, headshots both of them. Some of the victims are sons to respectable members of the society.”
“Respectable members of the society are often too busy being respectable to educate their children appropriately. I’m constantly drunk because I’m constantly fighting, and those two would have been hanged if trialed for their crimes, I’ll leave it at that.”
“You don’t really expect people to buy all that.”
“They can buy all they want; they’re not the ones we’re doing this for. We’re doing this for that teacher over there, walking with a bandaged face. We’re doing it for our family, for your children. Why don’t you go interview some of the teachers we’ve helped, huh? Before they bolt off the country, that is, now that they can; why don’t you go to our old school, see about our colleagues there, asked them what happened before we left to do what we’re doing.”
“Oh we will, right after this.”
“Well then, go on. I’ve nothing else to say.” 
“Will you answer one more question?”
“I’ll answer whatever; we’ve got nothing to hide.”
“How have you managed to get this far?”
“I tried.” Alexander replied, turning away at that and getting in his car, to drive. 
10 cars and 4 bikes thus left for the next school, a total of 61 students to fight a whole high-school full of delinquents.
This time, the school had a door and it was closed; no one at the windows, no one to greet them.
“You said they were waiting for us.” Baako complained.
“I said I saw someone tip someone off through the phone.” Chris excused.
“No.” Leo said. “They know we’re here.”
“Yeah.” Paula agreed. “There was even Alex in the TV just now, it’s probably an ambush.”
“So what’s the plan, then?!” A drunken McAllister asked, leaned on his baseball bat.
“Humpf, we can go sneaky or we can go rampant. What should we choose?”
“Let’s just charge in.” Chris proposed.
“I like sneaking.” Francis said.
“Just get outta the way!!” Eric shouted, throttling his bike. “I’ma ram this right up their front entrance!!”
“That’s so thoughtless…” Baako commented.
“No, it’s a good idea actually. Ram in the door, just storm in. Alright, everyone, you all know who your general is?”
“YEAH!”
“Ok, Alexander, mount up on Eric’s back.”
“Aye.” Alexander put his foot on the back and then grabbed on Eric’s broad shoulders, saying energetically: “this’s gonna be fun, laddie!”
“WOOOOOOHOOOOOOO!” The bike roared with Eric’s shout, accelerating past the front gate. It continued moving, not at full speed obviously, but Eric lifted the front wheel so to ram it against the door.
It broke the door down, then shoving itself against the wall in front. Alexander looked around as a group of students at that school, divided by the bike, looked at them with shock.
“Knock knock, laddies! We’re here ta kick yer ass.” At that, he jumped off the now still bike at the group that was standing right from the door. The rest of Alexander’s friends rushed in through the door and pushed the welcoming committee back, with full force.
There was a lot more people to fight this time, and in very closed quarters.
“There’s a lot of ‘em, Alex!”
“Just keep fightin’, laddie! At least there’ll be teachers ta help!!!” McAllister screamed, as he lost his baseball in the confusion, left to fight with nothing but fists and feet.
But they were gaining in numbers, and the energetic folk that didn’t know how to fight was actually making a difference, they covered flanks, even if briefly, they actually hit one or two, but they got hurt really easily. There were too many students.
Alexander kept listening to bones crackled and crack, screams of pain and agony, he had blood running down his left eye he was unsure to who it belonged too. Breathing heavily, he simply kept fighting, and it was then that it happened.
“GUN!!!” Chris screamed.
The noise rang sudden and abruptly, the sound of a gunshot and Chris’s screams.
“Shit!” Everyone reacted, looking on at the left hall which was filled with people fighting, a guy smirking with smoke clearing off his pistol, surrounded by allies of his.
The bothered, fearful eyes of everyone in front of him.
“Tch!” Alexander knew he’d only target the fighters; he immediately attacked a random guy that was wielding a crowbar and then ran in the direction of the shooter. His eyes witnessing as he aimed it again. He moved in the direction he was aiming while he heard Leo shout.
“GIVE ALICIA ROOM, GOD DAMMIT!!!!”
He dodged an attack by spinning to the right and then jumped off the wall, stepped on an ally and dove to intercept the shot that was about to be triggered.
“Not on my fuckin’ watch!” Alexander screamed, as he held the crowbar in front of his chest, risking his life to protect the one about to be shot, to protect Paula.
Paula, looking at the corridor, suddenly realized she had no one in between her and the gun; what a stupid mistake to make for someone like her. She saw the inside of the gun barrel, she saw the path to it, surrounded by guys fighting their way apart, to get clear of it. She a body flying in from nowhere in front of her; she saw nothing but Alex when the shot rang.
His body flinched slightly and then hit the ground; she looked as another guy, at her right, hit the ground bleeding from the arm, screaming his guts out. She looked down at Alex, who was getting without the bent crowbar. He was quick to grab a random enemy by the shirt and pull him in to use him as cover.
“Luck favors the ballsy, bitch! HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAH!!” he reacted, as he pushed her into the crowd, following her.
The guy with the pistol, having shot the crowbar, was left in awe for a few seconds, thinking how on earth he had hit the crowbar instead of anything around it. In those few seconds, he received an arrow clumsily aimed at his face. It hit somewhere between the right cheek and the eye, the result was not pretty.
“Charge for the gun!” McAllister screamed, raising his body up to push the “soldiers” onward. Paula was left aghast, for a few, looking at Alexander’s back. He was almost shot but he didn’t care, he saved her life and she didn’t even thank him, he risked his life for someone on a whim. Then she understood…him, everyone who was there had been warned by him, they can die. They can really die, and yet they’re here, fighting for those who want all the perks but don’t want to fight for them, along with those who can’t. Selfless people who risk their own flesh for that of others; and she was like that, she was. She got up with a smile, for she wasn’t aware she was such a human being, she got up and felt such energy to fight, such a will to go on. And then it sounded out.
“WE DIDN’T COME HERE TO BEAT THEM!” Chris screamed, in pain and agony. “KILL THEM MOTHERFUCKEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERS!!!!”
Everyone of their “soldiers” screamed with dedication, she joined the cheer as they pushed on, guarantying their success. They fought and won but, in the end, there was nothing they could do for Chris.
Even during the fight, they opened a way and Eric carried him to the hospital, but he wasn’t in time. Tai Boxing expert Eric died by gunshot that day, his last words were, though, not of regret, not a wish, not of romance or terror or fear. His last words were for those he was fighting with…
At the after effect, the “generals” again reunited at the rooftop.
“This is getting out of hand. A family lost their child today, and we’ve taken others.” Leo commented.
“And the way Chris died…he was so absorbed by what we’re doing. This is not authentic at all; we are forgetting the reality of life, forgetting we’re not super heroes.” Baako commented. 
Indeed, Chris’s inspiration had worked backward, for his had been the words of a comic hero, not a real person, and that had opened everyone’s eyes.
“What are we doing?” Francis asked.
“Fighting evil.” Alicia answered.
“Stop talking like that.” Baako requested.
“But it’s true. The schools now have a chance to-”
“-Oh for pete’s sakes…” Francis reacted. “This is what we’re talking about. Did you see the news reporter? He was shocked at our random violence. ‘Cause that’s what this is to the world, random violence. I dunno how come we haven’t been stopped yet.”
“That’s actually a good subject.” Alexander mentioned. “Why hasn’t the police intervened? None of us’re bribing it.”
“Maybe they’re hoping we finally fix all this.” Paula voiced out. Everyone looked at, Alicia with some hope.
“You too?” Baako called out.
“There’s no looking away from what we’ve seen in this school! I mean, we all saw that kid in the locker room!”
Francis and Baako were shut off, remembering the horrible image.
“What kind of people locks up a kid in the locker and leaves him there for three days?! What kind of crazy crap is going on in these high-schools. And look at Alicia, I don’t even want to know what they did to her.”
“You don’t.” Alicia confirmed.
“This all feels like a dream to us. Not in the good way, but in the way that’s too random, too much like the story out of a comic book to be true. In the way that it can’t be true. Saviors of the country? Saviors of hundreds? Saviors of Alicia?” Paula finished.
Francis and Baako looked at Alicia, Leo frowned and said.
“Still, Chris…”
“Chris is an incredible guy!” Eric shouted, from the door. He had just arrived. “His last words were just beautiful.” They were all surprised at Eric’s vocabulary; he was usually such an aggressive individual.
“Yes.” Alicia agreed.
“He had been shot, he was bleeding and hurting, but he wanted to push us on, he wanted us to continue. Just like your guy here…” Eric pointed at the flag, spelling out “M.M,”, “Just like him, Chris lost his life against these beasts. And his last words told us he didn’t regret it.”
“Right!” Paula agreed. “He was so emotional about this, even though he complained a lot.”
“He complained because he was concerned about us.” Leo pointed out. Everyone looked at him confused. “I could tell.”
“Let’s add him to the flag.” Alexander proposed, they all looked at him surprised. “In fact, let’s add everyone who’s fighting. Make more copies. Every school in the country will know who’s figh-”
“PLEASE!!!” A voice shouted out, interrupting Alexander. He looked back to see a short Youngman, wearing glasses and with half his head shaved. He was crouching on the floor, dead tired.
“Let me join you!” He shouted. Alexander looked around, and then back at him, saying:
“Anyone who wants a piece of them, better have the strength to get it. You can come if you want too, but know you’ll probably die.”
“Th-th-that’s alright!!!”
An hour later, a full grown fighting force had been assembled. Alexander, a sored Paula, a limping Eric, a strained Baako, an exhausted Francis and a slightly wounded Alicia leading close to 80 students left from that school. 3 cars carried two flags each, signed with the initials of all fighters who were riding, and who were healing, and who had died in the fight until now.
Alexander thought back to his middle school, where the biggest problem was 5 bullies, and the biggest solution was kicking their ass. Now here he found himself, leading a hundred man army on a quest to cleanse the country of evil anarchic trash; how far he had come: from boy to man, from man to liberator, from liberator to leader…how far had this drunkard come…


Chapter 20: The Optimal Warrior, the greatest fighter, the strongest. 

It’s been a week. McAllister and his army normally spent the night in the most recently conquered school. They were attacked one of them but it turned alright.
Only the first day did they strike against so many schools, attacking only two per day afterwards. In the mean time, Alexander’s sister Clara had been taken in by Hannah’s father, along with the dog. Some families had problems but they suddenly found themselves under the protection of the police.
By small deeds, the police showed their true nature, their true essence as crime fighters and law enforcers, even if flawed…they ignored McAllister’s constant conquests and invasions and they secretly helped the families of everyone who was fighting.
As expected, McAllister’s high-school was also attacked, but it seems his predictions were correct. There were too many over there, but more than that, two surprises were waiting for them: Twin brothers; one trained in Tae Kwon Do, the other trained in western boxing.
It had been a long road, full of pain and effort and casualties. Friends had been lost to hospital or even the funeral, but the flag had grown full of initials and they were now close to the end, the last school.
From their beatings, they had discovered that, indeed, an adult was behind all of this. And he was none other than the principal of this school. He was rumored to be the strongest thing anyone had ever seen; he had allegedly killed a youngster with nothing but his thumb and index finger. He was rumored to be unbeatable.
Alexander’s charge at the school was a clear challenge at those rumors, he was willing to see just how strong this man was, he was willing to see if he was strong enough to prevent Alexander from killing him.
“There’s a shitload of ‘em here!!!” The newly recruited Evan complained, as he shut a door to a classroom. He looked back to 12 newbie fighters plus an injured Paula. She was grabbing her right arm, which was bleeding out from somewhere.
“Jesus! You fought the principal right?!” He asked, sweating with worry. “C’mon guys! Get that closet here; we need to barricade the door.”
“Ah, right!” One of them said, pulling three more with them.
“Yeah, that man…” Paula said, frightened.
“He’s a fuckin’ monster.” Evan said, handling the beating the door was taking. “I nailed him with a stick to the top of the head, fucker didn’t even flinched. Almost grabbed me too.”
“He was heading to his office.” Paula said. “When I heard he wasn’t there, I figured I’d go and ambush him. It…it didn’t go well.”
“You tried to conduct his strike, but it had too much force right?”
“Ye…yeah.” She admitted.
“Man’s not natural. And now we know why we found the last school empty, this is bad!”
“This is horrible. We need to fight him together. Not even Alex will be a match for him.”
“I dunno about that…”
“He isn’t.” Paula said, surely. “He really isn’t.”
Evan looked back at Paula to examine her certainty; then he frowned, saying.
“Ok, guys, form a protective area around Paula, we’re gonna push through these bastards.” He assumed a Jing Quan Dao position. This was the style that the Chinese Police learn, back in China.
He waited for the door to bust in, telling himself:
“Use your strength for good, use your strength for right, use your strength…use it.”
The door bust in, the guy who bust it ahead of the others; Evan rotated and shoved a kick on his face, landing the foot just in time to back-punch an attacking hand, defending it, and striking with his other hand with a right hook. He back stepped to avoid a kick and then front stepped and shoved a kick on his chest, ducking and spinning around to trip the other one. He got up and side stepped right, extending his left arm to punch the guy who’d thrown a straight kick.
On another part of the school, McAllister fought with Francis, they were almost at the principal’s office. Sweaty and tired, Francis asked McAllister.
“There’s two schools worth of people here, this is bad, we’ve lost a lotta people already.”
“Just keep fightin’, laddie! Nobody’s getting’ hurt fer nuthin’ if we keep fightin’, aye?!” McAllister told him, as he dodged a few attacks by rolling on the ground, he eventually got up with a sweeping kick, beginning a small combo of punches immediately, taking three out. He then bent his torso half way, extending his leg to kick, which connected, just like it had against Lee, all that eternity ago…
He fell, grabbed a foe with his legs and smashed his face on the floor, then rolled backwards standing up. He immediately and amazingly dived forward and front-rolled on the ground, standing up with a punch leading the way, the punch pushed the enemy up against the ceiling. Alexander meanwhile did a rotating trip, kept on fighting.
Francis had 90% of his weight on his right leg, which supported his half-crouched body, left leg practically hovering above the floor. He waved his claw shaped left hand in front of his chest, sweeping away any strike that dared to try and touch him; he’d push the weight on his right leg forward, throwing his whole body unto a right punch and thoroughly knocked an enemy out of breath; he’d then retreat to his position, swipe again, punch, retreat to his position. He used his hovering leg to protect against low kicks and to kick, only to places below the waist. Francis liked to keep his fighting simple; obviously you’d this is a strategy that would only work versus one, but he was fast enough to make it work with a lot, as long as no one came from behind.
“Where are the others, anyways?” Francis asked.
“Dunno, laddie. ’ll just have to trust ‘em to be aw’right.” 
“I guess so.”
At another point in the building, Baako and Eric were back to back. Baako simply received strikes, doing grappling moves that put them all on the ground crying with pain, Eric also did his grapples, but instead of filling the ground around him with crying scum, the crying scum would go through walls, crash against lockers or even the ceiling, as he performed his Wrestling throws. In the middle of them, Alicia threw arrows; this trio was the one producing the most screams, in this battle.
“These guys sure know how to cry like babies!!!”
“Ah ah, too bad we lost our soldiers.”
“In the end, it’s always up to the generals, man. So you’re a jujitsu guy?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s pretty cool, though I still enjoy wrestling more.”
“Your moves are amusing to watch.”
“You’re not watching.”
“I watched before.”
“Ah, okay then.”
“Shut up and concentrate.” Alicia demanded.
“Yeah, Alicia’s right, there’s a fuckload of ‘em.”
“It explains why the last school was empty.” Baako remarked.
“True. It’s concerning me though, I’m getting tire.”
“Me too.”
“You think we shou-”
“Shut up and concen-” Alicia repeated, in the exact same tone of voice, being interrupted by Eric.
“-Right right.” Eric said, as he cracked a guy’s back on top of his knee.
“GAHHHHHHHH!!!” Another enemy screamed. Eric again threw him at the crowd in front of him, preparing for the next guy.
At the basement…20 “soldiers” were fighting around 18 guys with chains and knifes and other melee weapons.
“C’mon! We can do this!!! KICK THEIR ASSES.”
“You people are fuckin’ insane! We’ve been fighting since we were kids, you can’t bea-”
“FOR MIKE!”
“YEAH!”
“FOR CHRIS!”
“HHAAAAAAA!!!” They screamed.
“FOR MOTHERFUCKIN’ VASH!!!”
“KILL ‘EM!!!”
“SHIT!”
After the fight had developed a bit, we again find Evan and Paula at the classroom. Evan’s sitting in a chair, looking at the ground with deadly focus. Around him, bodies of delinquents still holding on to their weapons, writhing and crying. He coughs out blood at the floor, and focuses his vision on him.
“My God, Evan.” Paula called out, stumbling to approach him. There were no more enemies. “Are you…”
“Go.” Evan said. “My leg’s broken and some of my muscles have torn…I really…can’t feel much of my body…I’m of no use anymore.”
“Evan…”
“You guys did well.” Evan said, looking at his “soldiers”, at what was left of them. “Go with her, help Alex.”
“We will!” One of the 6 remaining said.
“Evan…” She called out again, crying of anguish.
“I’ll be okay, beauty. Just go, he needs you, and you need him.”
Paula, realizing Evan knew and had still fought, sighed with sorrow and turned away, to respect his effort. Around 50 delinquent lied defeated at that classroom, but Evan would never be able to fight again and the pain he had to endure until this was over…him and the 4 “soldiers” that went down in the fight.
Paula grabbed hold of her broken arm and ran, followed by the soldiers.
Meanwhile, Eric and Baako had been forced to get in a class room, so they could both fight the same front. Alicia had run out of arrows and thus was just hanging back, helping as she could but she had been rendered practically useless.
“They just keep coming!” Eric shouted, angry, throwing a guy against the class board.
“They’ll stop eventually. This isn’t Serious Sam” Baako mentioned, whilst breaking an arm by making it bend in the wrong direction, in a snap.
“Serious what?”
“Nevermind.”
“Good game.” Alicia mentioned.
“It’s entertaining.” Baako commented.
“Is this really the place??!” Eric asked, pissed off and tired. They both had taken off their upper clothes and the trousers were all cut up and messy. They’ve taken a lot of hits already; they were fortunately simply very robust.
Back at the principal’s office.
“I’m going to take care of the principal real quick, cover my back.”
“Alright, laddie. Go show that myth how ta fight.”
“Hehe.” Francis laughed, turning around and kicking the door open. “Hey there, I’m here to tear you a new one.” He ran in. McAllister kept fighting the normal guys. He had taken some hits but thanks to his drunken state, he could barely feel any pain, and exhaustion was also not a problem. With burning lungs and boiling veins, Alexander easily kept fighting at his best.
“AHHHHH!” Francis screamed of unbearable pain, just before a window crashed.
“What the bloody fuck?!” McAllister asked, jumping backwards to get inside the officer. He saw that the people started to dash to him, but then looked behind him and stopped. Some of them smirked, as they dispersed, moving away. Alexander turned around and looked upon an adult. A black man of an athletic build, wearing a black tuxedo, standing up in front of his desk; Alexander McAllister then noticed the window to his right was busted and broken, shards not on the inside.
“Yes, your friend flew through there.” He told McAllister, who turned his eyes towards him, squinting them. “He’s dead.”
“You’re gonna be deeeeaaad.” McAllister said, in a mocking tone. “Not him.”
“Humpf, so you’re the drunkard who’s been such a torn on my side. I would’ve taken your down myself if I was ever sure where you were.”
“If you could, ya mean.” McAllister said.
“Oh no, trust me, you’re no match before a real fighter. But I have a proposition for you that will fix our little problem.”
“Hahahahahhaaha, little? I’ve taken over all yer damn schools, every teacher’s fleein’, yer scheme’ll be out no time.”
“I’ll start over somewhere else.” He shrugged. “Come with me, Alex. You want a good safe life for you and your sister right? Cute Hannah can even come too, I’ll take care of you if you fight for me, against weaklings obviously. You’ll only grow stronger and there probably isn’t a kid in the world that could beat you as you are, anyways.”
“Preciate the offer, asshole, but I prefer to stop you today. Ye see, the moment I knew you were behind all o’ this, I decided to kill you. In this…this…war, yer the only one I wanna kill.”
“Such strong words. But why, Alex? You’re doing this for your sister, right? I can make sure you’ll have a good safe life, she’ll have a good safe life. Isn’t this what it’s all about?”
“Go ta hell, laddie. Ye just killed Francis. You’d probably kill more, which means you can get away with murder…”
“Yes, yes I can. But you can’t…so what’ll it be.”
“Yer death obviously.” McAllister said. “No concessions, laddie. No mercy fer the wicked.”
“Heh, bring it on then.”
“Yeeeeeehawwwww!” Alexander ran in his direction, throwing his body spinning with his head aimed to strike. The man sidestepped and let McAllister ram the desk.
“GUH!” McAllister got up, and stumbled forward, throwing three straight punches forward, which were defended by the Principal’s right hand. The Principal slapped McALlister with his left hand but McAllister leaned back, throwing a kick which the Principal took to his stomach, but he forced his belly and took it, grabbing hold of it.
He span around and threw McAllister against the wall, but McAllister landed with his feet on it, falling flat-chest on the ground. He rolled to the side to avoid an axe kick from the Principal; McAllister stepped off the ground into a hand-stand and moved his hips to strike at the Principal who punched McAllister’s feet.
“Your lack of power is baffling.” He told McAllister, as he stood up.
“Blow me.” Alexander answered, jumping with a front-flip to feint a heel kick. He landed and stroke at the Principal’s stomach but his punch met the Principal’s hand. He looked forward and, because he had been grabbed, he found it impossible to dodge the Principal’s left hand punch.
He took it to the face, very hard, probably breaking the nose. McAllister would be sent flying but the Principal was grabbing hold of his hand; he pulled McAllister in and back-handed him with the very hand he used to pull McAllister. McAllister flipped thrice before hitting the ground, dazed because of the strike.
“So much wasted movement. Typical of a drunkard…a pathetic disgrace.” The man moved in between McAllister and the window, intending to throw him off.
McAllister’s head was ringing; his face was truly on fire with pain and suffering. The amount of screeching his bones and nerves were doing was incalculable.
But he still heard as Paula’s voice emanated from the entrance.
“ALEX!!! I’m coming!”
On instinct, McAllister lifted his feet and placed them on the Principal’s belly, then pushed the ground as strongly as he knew how to do, successfully pushing the Man out the window.
But the man was quick to react, he grabbed hold of Alexander’s legs, pulling him with him; having pushed the ground, McAllister was unable to grab unto anything. The things he heard then was Paula screeching out his name, then his ears cutting the wind, and then a loud and very painful crash. Both McAllister and the Principal had feel on cars. McAllister passed out momentarily, having rebounded off the car and hit the floor.
The Principal, also having rebounded and landed on the floor, clothes all messed up, heard a scream
“It’s him! Get him!!”
He immediately got up, upper-cutting a student very hard, he turned around and grabbed an arm, thoroughly broke it and threw the student head on against a car’s door.
“Fucking runts.” He grabbed hold of an attacker’s head, ignoring his weak punches, and squeezed it ‘till he stopped, starting to scream in pain. Another came but he waved the grabbed student around and hit the attacker with him, the violence was baffling.
He squeezed ‘till the youngster stopped screaming, squeezed until blood came out of his ears and nose, squeezed until the youngster was dead. The students thus started to keep their distance, completely intimidated
“That’s right, you fuckinf filth! Don’t come near me, I’ll kill every last one of you!” 
“Oh will you know?!” Eric asked, coming out from the front entrance. He ran towards the Principal, exhibiting his amazing muscles. “Let’s see how you handle my strength, motherfu-” Eric couldn’t finish his sentence, the Principal did a inhuman dash, a dash Eric didn’t even spot, and got close to him. He grabbed hold of his chin with one hand and very abruptly threw it to the side, forcing the neck to turn with too much force; it snapped, breaking his neck. Eric was dead
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Alicia screamed. “Eric!!”
“You monster!” Baako yelled, running towards him.
“No!” A voice called out from behind the Principal. The Principal couldn’t believe it…he looked back at Alexander McAllister, who was standing up.
“Yer no match fer ‘im. I’ll take ‘im on.”
“What?! Look at you!” The Principal pointed out. The principal himself was bleeding from the fall equivalent to a third floor high fall. But it still wasn’t that grave: some serious cuts and bruises, not much else. The Principal took off his torso clothing, telling McAllister. “Come at me now, I will kill you.”
“Let’s see ya try, laddie!” McAllister, bleeding from his nose, mouth, full of cuts and bruises, he hopped against the Principal. “Someone has ta beat ya!!!”
“Hahahahahaha!” The Principal laughed.
The battle had ended; all that was left was the leader behind all of these troubles, all the death, pain and blood, the leader, the principal of this school was all that was left. McAllister threw some blows that were dodged and defended but then the principal grabbed hold of his arm, throwing him up.
“I’m going to kill you!” The Principal shouted, as he watched McAllister fall, delivering one very violent diagonal sweeping punch, hitting McAllister right in the head, in a way that went against the flipping. McAllister flipped the other way until he hit the ground, looking dead; the Principal then grabbed him and threw him against a car, like trash.
From the entrance, another scream came from Paula, who leaned against the wall:
“ALEEEX, NOOOOO!” She saw the punch, the violent deadly punch that thoroughly looked to punch off a piece of Alexander’s cranium.
“Oh my God.”
“Holy shit.” The various people reacted. Of all the fights, Alexander was always rested, always untouched, always hardly sweating…and now he was dead.
“You can all come. You can all attack. I’ll kill every last one of you little snots! I’ll break your arms, legs, necks, heads. I’ll crack you in thousands of pieces and I won’t break a sweat! I’ll still have enough breath to carry each one of your pieces to a different part of the world, I WILL MURDER YOU!!!!” He screamed, scaring the living souls out of everyone.
“C’MON THEN! BRING IT! ATTACK! COME AT ME!”
“Very well.” Another voice said, from the car the Principal had thrown Alexander against. Paula again screamed out his name, in relief.
“Get away!” She screamed. Alexander smirked. Baako looked at him closely…he had his head broken, left arm was inoperable, bleeding out his nose and one of the ears. But that’s not what Baako noticed…Baako noticed Alexander was standing straight…he wasn’t drunk.
“All these people came here to see you defeated, dead. I will do it…for them.” He coughed hard, but didn’t waver on his stance.
“You’re still alive?! What does it take to kill you, for God’s sakes??”
“Around a minute, I think.” Alexander said, walking forward.
Baako, seeing Alexander advance towards the enemy, sober, remembered a scene from one of their stays at a school…

“There’s something I don’t get…” Chris spoke out. “How come you need to be drunk to fight? I mean, one thing’s being able to fight well, another’s needing to be drunk, that doesn’t make sense.”

And then Baako realized, as he observed the Principal dash towards Alexander and throwing a right hook. Alexander leaned his head and dodged it, it and the next four strikes. The Principal stopped and stepped back, looking at Alexander confused.
Being drunk dulls one’s senses, perceptions; decreases one’s strengths and reactions, floods the eyes and ears with blockades. Alexander was the best fighter amongst them because, thanks to being drunk, he had resilience and unpredictability that would be impossible to enact while sober. But the alcohol still dulls one’s senses, perceptions, strength, speed, reaction time…Alexander wasn’t a best fighter when he was drunk, he was the best fighter DESPITE being drunk.
Baako then realized that Alexander, sober, would be at his full potential. He would be exponentially stronger than when he was drunk…
At that moment, Alicia and Paula realized it too. Alicia took off her hockey mask, screaming her heart out in tears.
“KILL HIM!!!”
“Fuck you!” The Principal said, throwing a kick at Alexander who side-stepped, using his hand to direct the kick away, he threw a punch at the Principal’s unguarded side, connecting.
“Ugh!” The Principal span out to gain some distance, but Alexander followed with small quick steps. He was so much faster now…
He threw a punch which the Principal defended and tried to grab, but Alexander threw another punch and so the Principal had to defend it too. After a few more strikes, the Principal was being forced to use both his hands.
“What the fuck is this??!” Not only was he using his two hands, he wasn’t fast enough to grab Alexander’s continuously striking fists, and his hands were starting to hurt.
“KILL HIM!” Alicia again screamed.
“He does not stand a chance.” Baako said. He heard a relieved sigh from behind him, he looked back at Paula who let her back slide against the wall, sitting down.
“Yeah…Alex truly is without parallel.”
Meanwhile, Alexander felt the difference. He could see everything, his limbs were responding immediately, his nerves were all there and attentive, though most of them were coping with the pain; he could not believe that, all this time, he was able to fight while sober, that he was this good. He was overwhelming the Principal, but he was already feeling his consciousness flailing.
But then he hit an open palm on the Principal’s ribs, right side; at the wince of pain, Alexander McAllister unleashed an onslaught of strikes, starting with the head so the Principal would be dazed; the Principal caught a few ones but in the end he couldn’t cope with Alexander’s strength and speed, couldn’t cope with his skill.
A punch to the ribs, followed by the chin, followed by the stomach, followed by a backhand to the cheek, followed by a punch on that same place, followed by a knee to the Man’s belly, followed by a punch to get him up straight, followed by an head-butt, followed by 10 more hits. Alexander hit him for as long as he felt the strength, and when he felt that he was about to pass out, he jumped in the air, right in front of the Principal, throwing his body into a godly spin; he span around about 10 ten times, the suddenly flinging a round-house kick at the Principal’s head.
Then, Alexander fell unconscious. The whole crowd looked on; the ones that could see the Principal’s expression were intimidated, for he was dead…surely dead.
And they cheered. Everyone rose up their hands and screamed out:
“YEEEEEEEESSSSSS!!!!”
“WOOOOOOO”
“WOOOOOOOWWW!”
“AWESOOOOOME!!!!”
“CALL AN AMBULANCE!!!”

Chapter 21: A Happy Ending, full of holes.

Alexander missed the rest of the year, putting himself back together. He had almost died of blood loss, but in the end he had survived. During his time in the hospital, he was visited by students, by policemen; even by adults he didn’t know from anywhere…total strangers coming in to see how he was doing, to thank him for the effort.
He came to know how the situation developed. The judicial courts were busy for months, over the hundreds of minors who had committed very serious crimes, and all the others. The schools received new principals and new teachers, most of them actual missionaries, desiring for education to go on in these schools, desiring to keep them from being cast out and destroyed. He heard everyone mention him on the news and watched his own trial on TV, without the ability to be there. He won, in the end, thanks to the testimony of everyone who fought with him, everyone who knew what was going on in those schools and what the Principal was capable off.
Finally and lastly, he was visited regularly by Hannah, who was taking good care of Clara. Alexander McAllister thus lost another year of school, but this time without regrets.
When he had healed up, around the last days of school, he still had something left to do, to close the lid on what students were jokingly calling the War of Schools. He had requested, and everyone had conceded, that they’d hold off all the funerals until he was capable of attending them. So first thing he did when he left the hospital, he attended the funerals for all his friends, everyone…
A funeral processions for 20 youngsters that housed almost 2 thousand people, youngsters and adults alike. Multiple dozens addressed the crowd on the deceased, as per costumed. People like Eric, Chris, Vash, Evan, Mike, and all the others that fought so hard for their friends, for those who can’t fight hard. They received a day long ceremony in their memory and were immortalized together, with a headstone in the form a flag, signed with their initials and the initials of everyone else. 2 thousand initials on a gigantic headstone built to hold them; they would forever serve as proof, as a reminder, that the happy ending everyone experienced that year, was at the cost of deaths, of sacrifices, of little holes in what would later be the incredible tale of Alexander McAllister’s exploits.
So often does one brush away a death to destiny, to the uncontrolled, to what had to happen. It didn’t have to happen, it happened because those who died, who die this way, accept that it may happen, then that it will happen, but they still lunge forward…courageous intrepid martyr infused spirits that surround the heart and mind, giving a courage that is unexplainable. Sometimes, there are things more important than us and our dreams…these are the kind of people that know that, that accept it, that serve that higher purpose. They’re not deaths to mourn, they’re not simply deaths to remember; they’re examples: the attitude is an example to know, to understand and to follow.
The last thing I want to leave here, the last scene I want to remain in the reader’s conscience is a happy one. The first day of the return of McAllister to school:

McAllister went inside the gate, and the whole school was there…it erupted with cheers, tear-filled cheers. Students from other schools were there for that homage, teachers who didn’t teach in that school were there. Because those who are saved are the ones that know the different the savior made…the rest don’t know, they don’t have a clue, later generations would never hear of the drunken maniac who did what he did, it would become a simple myth, the fact he beat up a 100 people.
But Alexander was lucky…he was able to really feel he made a difference. He was able to experience the thanks and cheers. He raised his arms in the ground and voiced out a thank you, which even drove the crowd madder.
Alexander, the bullied little boy which became a alcoholic, had led a crew of fighters into saving a country-worth of students…a country-worth. Little by little, he had saved them all. He smiled, grinned even with happiness, hugging Hannah who lunged at him for a hug. Things were well, they were normal, they were happy…and he had done it. He looked as the crowd moved towards him, probably to throw him up in the air and scream out in joy and admiration. He blinked, shedding a tear that paddled its way down his cheek.
“We really did it…”