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.
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