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Interlude Eighteen Point Three: Street Cowboy

The Cowboy was moving on the streets, hustling to make a deal, trying to make a living. His stetson and clothes marked him out to his potential customers, and from time to time he and a "friend" would slip off into the alley for a quick chat.

Something was wrong, the Cowboy froze. From out of the darkness, something came whistling in to strike him just at his hip joint. Looking down, he was surprised to see a dagger buried in his leg. A numbness was already beginning to spread from the wound.

Looking back along the dagger's flight path, he saw a dim figure on a fire-escape three floors up in the alley.

The Stetson wearing man ripped the dagger from his thigh tossing it aside, and stumbled a few steps into a darkened doorway out of sight.

The shadowy figure came down the fire-escape quickly, dropping the last few feet to the ground. Plucking a dagger from his belt, he circled around to get a view of the alley. In the light from the street, he could be seen to be wearing a black bodysuit to the neck, with a Lone Ranger style mask on his face. On his chest was a dagger design picked out in red.

The man was shocked when realized that the Cowboy wasn't there. He heard a faint pop and started to turn, then felt an iron grip on his hand. All he saw was a Stetson and a hearty "Howdy pahdnah!" before a clubbing blow landed on his chin."

"I don't know why you're still standing, scum, but you'll regret crossing blades with Dagger," growled the man, snapping his hand up in a rigid blow towards the Cowboy's arm. The Cowboy gave a quick jerk and the man's punch missed.

Somehow the man spun around and landed a wicked kick on the side of the Cowboy's head. The Cowboy managed to get a block in place to keep the followup spear-hand from hitting his throat.

"Ornery cuss, ain't ya?" said the Cowboy as he fired off a couple stiff left jabs to the jaw of his held target.

The man blocked the Cowboy's first punch, but only partly and his head snapped around. The Cowboy punched again and this time the man tried to flip free. He couldn't get loose of the Cowboy's grip and when the punch landed, he stopped squirming at all and became limp in Cowboy's hands.

As the man crumpled in the Cowboy's grip he muttered, "They don't call it cow-punching fer nuthin'" as he pulled out his cell phone to place a call. "Yeah," he said into the phone, "a little trouble. Nuthin' I didn't take care of. All that is left is taking out the trash."

Shortly thereafter, the Cowboy and his "parcel" were surprised in the alley by a police patrol car who skidded to a stop. The cops poured out and pulled their weapons shouting a menacing "Freeze." The Cowboy raised his hands saying "Easy, easy. Ain't nothing going on here." With a cautious step backward the Cowboy entered the darkness and was gone.

Issue 18: Fraternity Hazing, Part II

Last Updated 22 January 2002