Abel Scott, Back from the Dead.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The first Askhive-owned pub, the black fang went up in flames as Abel Scott threw a flame bottle through its shattered windows.

Gang members lay on the floor outside the pub groaning in pain from multiple injuries to their body parts.

Abel Scott turned, he didn't watch the pub burn. “One down, two more to go” Abel Scott muttered under his breath.

Vrooom!

Abel Scott powered his bike into the city underbelly. 

“They think they will touch Sarah and walk away.” Abel Scott thought to himself, his teeth clenching his lower lips with vengeful bitterness. “They will learn tonight.”

The second pub was just ahead, the neon sign drizzled in the dark, The viper pen, three armed guards stood by the back door smoking.

“Amateurs.” Abel Scott scoffed, killing the bike's engine. He moved slowly into the shadows inserting the knuckles into his fingers. 

“For her pain. For her ribs. For her sight” Abel Scott thought to himself as he moved swiftly through the shadows towards the guards. 

“Who's there?” one of the guards asked, squinting into the shadows. 

Bang!

Before the guard could blink, Abel Scott rapidly sent three precise punches to the guard's face, breaking his nose. 

“What’s that?" The second guard asked, fumbling for his firearm, but Abel Scott was changing positions, a blur in his carbon fiber suit.

He drove a punch into the guard’s shoulder twisting the arms to the back causing it to snap. 

One, two, three. The guard passes out. 

The third guard lunged towards Abel Scott swinging his crossbow. Abel Scott dodged, the metal moving over his head, he countered with an elbow to the jaw of the guard causing his teeth to splatter to the ground like a pair of dice. 

“No mercies” Abel Scott said, driving a punch into the guard’s face. “Not tonight,” He said, driving another into the guard's already bloodied face.

“Do…you…know…you…are…messi…” the guard said weakly.

“Shut up,” Abel Scott said, knocking the guard out with one final punch.

He kicked the back door open sending two flashbangs into the pub. Chaos rained into the room as the occupants flew into turmoil. 

Abel Scott stormed in, placing the knuckles properly in his arms. A thug ran towards him with a broken bottle, Abel Scott swerved left and right evading each swing of the bottle. 

He slammed the knuckles into the thug's temple. The thug fell to the ground like a sack of bricks.

“Gentlemen, shall we?” Abel Scott said, cracking his neck side to side.

Two thugs unsheathed their knives and rushed towards Abel Scott. He caught the arms of one of the thugs dispossessing him as he attempted to drive his knife into his body. 

Abel Scott smashed the face of the thug into his rising knee. The other thug's knife broke as he drove the blade into Abel Scott's carbon fiber suit.

The thug gasped. His body stood still with fear creeping through his spine. Abel Scott punched him hard in the face, giving him no time to regret. 

“Who are you?” A husky enforcer roared, leveling his shotgun. 

Abel Scott's eyes burned through the thermal goggles. “I am the man you should never have crossed.” He said diving behind a table as the shotgun blasted, splintering wood. 

“Darling, breakfast is ready,” Abel Scott could hear Sarah speak in his mind, the smile she wore that morning, then Sarah's face, burned and broken, flashed into his mind. 

Abrl Scott rolled, throwing two knives at the enforcer, hitting his hands and chest. The enforcer collapsed, gasping in pain.

Another thug threw a chain at Abel Scott, he caught it mid-air dragging the thug forward into a knee strike that broke his nose. 

“Where is Obadiah Simons?!” Abel Scott growled.

“Where is your boss?” He asked, punching the thug. 

“The Iron..” The thug gurgled, blood bubbling from his mouth.

“Useless thing,” Abel Scott said, shoving the thug to the side.

“You are all going to pay” He said, throwing a flame bottle into the scattered pub. Flames growing larger into the sky painting it red. 

“Two down, one more.” Abel Scott said, zooming off into the darkness of the night. “Obadiah I'm coming for you”  His jaw clenched. 

The third pub, the Iron Claw was the Askhive gang stronghold. 

Abel Scott stopped in front of the pub, the powerbike's tires smoking hot. His thermal imaging goggles detected over a dozen heat signatures inside the pub.

“Good, more bones to break,” Abel Scott muttered. He slung the mini duffel bag over his shoulder, knuckles, flashbangs, and pliers at his beck and call. 

“The possibility of her being permanently blind is very high” Dr Philips' words rang in his head. 

“My Sarah, blind forever?” Abel Scott whispered, flashes of Sarah Lawrence lying on the hospital bed unconscious crossed his mind.

Abel Scott moved through the shadows to the back of the pub, finding the wires that supply electricity to the pub. He placed a pair of pliers on the wire. K-cink! The light from the pub went off. 

“What's happening?” A voice cried out from inside the pub. 

Abel Scott placed a shaped charge on the door, the blast ripping the door from its hinges. Smoke and shouts filled the air as He stormed in. 

Rapid Punches flew through the air. Three enforcers before they could blink were on the ground with broken body parts gasping for air.

A thug wielding a baseball bat flung the bat against Abel Scott's back. Abel Scott staggered a little. 

The thug raised the bat for another strike, Abel Scott grabbed his wrist, breaking it with a twist, then drove a fist into his throat. He choked, collapsing to the floor.

“Die you, bastard” another thug said, swinging his baseball bat at Abel Scott. He rolled under it springing up to slam his knuckles into the thug's ribs. The thug's bones cracked like dry twigs.

“That's for Sarah” Abel Scott growled.

Another thug tackled him immediately, pinning him to the wall. “The marks on her hands showed that she was hanging from the ceiling…” Dr Phillips' report rang in his head again. 

Abel Scott roared, head-butting the thug, the visor cracking his skull. The thug slumped. 

“Night Fowler!, we had a deal” a voice bellowed from the mezzanine. Obadiah Simons, the AskHive boss, stood with a scarred face and a machine pistol.