Wong went back down the stairs to see what he could find and to determine if it would be necessary to send in the crime scene specialists. He sensed the presence of a man just as the latter detached himself from the shadows of the large cargo space.
As Wong prepared for a fight he sized up his adversary. They were probably the same age and about as tall as each other, around five feet eight inches. He thought he was probably ten pounds heavier than the stranger, and both of them around thirty years old. The policeman had worked undercover for over ten years, four for the vice squad and the rest for drug enforcement. His opponent seemed only a little older but exuded confidence such as trumpeted a lifetime of practice. Here was someone who had without a doubt driven himself relentlessly. Wong had won more than his share of fights in ten years but now a sense of foreboding sped like a virus through his veins as he reflected upon his own neglect of the sparring mats. He knew he had been cruising with one or two hours a day instead of the four or five he should have spent drilling himself. Would his luck run out today, he wondered.
The two men approached each other warily. Wong lashed out with a jab at the intruder’s face and his heart sank as his opponent simply swatted the blow away. He dropped reflexively to avoid a counter attack but none came. He performed a vigorous leg sweep and was stunned when his adversary remained unmoved and unmoving. Wong rolled away quickly. As his life flashed before his eyes, however, he felt a sense of clarity. He would do whatever he needed to and, if that was not enough, he determined that no amount of fear or trembling would tip the scales. The professional in him accepted life as it was dealt to him and he grew calm.
The gap between the two men closed and the undercover detective felt as if his blows bounced off wooden beams tightly wrapped with thick ropes while his opponent seemed to explode into action, hitting him four or five times for each time that he himself connected. He rolled, jerked or dodged whenever he could but the battle was fast slipping from him. In desperation he threw a punch with all the force he could muster knowing that he had done so with perfect form. His opponent dodged it with laughing ease and encased Wong’s outstretched arm in an arm lock, enabling him to pitch the detective across the room.
All the undercover agent could do was to protect his head as he hit the wall. He was utterly spent while he sensed that his opponent had barely broken a sweat. With relief, he heard the wail of sirens. Police cars approached and the door to the warehouse rattled open. His attacker reached into a pocket and swung his arm with a throwing star that he launched at the throat of Wong’s back up who rushed in with his firearm blazing. He managed to get off three shots that hit nothing in particular before collapsing. Wong now recognized the style of fighting against which he had fought to no avail.
The ninja turned and hissed, “Train!” Then he disappeared.