From Prisoner To God Of War

A Dry Bone Better Off

Shades of crimson flushed across his sweaty face as he lowered his gaze on the graves. He had always planned to give his parents a befitting funeral at old age.

 His jaw clenched hard as he groaned. “For as many involved in your death and misfortune, a dry bone will be better than them.”

He squatted and touched his lips with a chaste kiss before placing the same finger on their graves and then dropped the flower. “

“It is vengeance or vengeance. I …” he couldn’t’ complete his statement when an interrupting yell came from behind.

“Hey, hey, who the fuck are you? How did you get in here?” the voice kept barking, and his back still turned at them , he could predict from their footsteps they were ten of them fully armed with swords and rifles.

“What is he doing there?” one asked, he had a long scraggly hair, and from his poise and posture he was their ring leader.

“I don’t know how he got into the presidential grave yard, boss,” one of them replied while the rest bowed and waited for orders to attack and bundle him away.

Lucas was still focused on the grave but well-coordinated to take down a hundred souls now. He kept snorting, stroking the pendant on his neck, finding comfort in shutting his eyes.

“How can you all be here and didn’t know when a riffraff get into the presidential graveyard, huh? And I am sure he has buried some corpses, huh,” the ringleader barked with a resounding slap on their faces.

“Apologies boss, what do we do now, even the rascal is not giving us attention. He is very arrogant. Let’s deal with him.”

“He has a shovel,” the ring leader snapped, “Obviously, he has buried some corpses, go now and order him to exhume the corpses and leave now. This grave is meant for Mr. President and the few elite!”

“Yes sir!” they chanted and began to match out, their boots crunching on the graveled ground.

“Hey, I have been calling you, asshole. Start digging, and exhume the corpses now. You made our boss slap us like rotten maggots, start digging. Are you deaf?” they kept barking innumerably.

One of them, a chubby towering dude dared his gods by rushing to Lucas and wanted to grab him, but that was his limit. Lucas grabbed him on the throat, lifted him off the ground, and the rest came to a pause.

Spinning him around, he tossed him away like a piece of paper, and he slammed his face into the bark of a tree.

“What the fuck!” one of them exclaimed, gaping, body shaky and unable to take a bold move. “Who the hell is he man?”

“See the way he lifted Shadron,” another nagged.

“Hey. Hey, what are you all waiting for, huh?” their ring leader barked and took out a cigar to smoke. “Gather that asshole and beat him to a pup. He can’t hurt a fly. And don’t forget he must exhume the corpses. It is an order!”

“Yes sir!”

 Their unwavering voices chanted, and they took caution to approach him, but in one bid of force they rushed in unison, but to their ruin, Lucas sent a powerful kick in the  air, targeting their foreheads swiftly and not missing one.

Instantly they slammed on the ground, and one, very stubborn, skinny with six packs stood up, pulled out his sword and lunged a dismal blow, but Lucas wedged his blow with open palms and snapped the blade into two with his knuckle.

Waving his fist, Lucas gave a side kick and a crushed-throat punch on the Adam’s apple of his victim, leaving him s to the ground and fatting several times.

“Who the hell is this guy, man?” their ring leader barked and crunched his cigar before dialing some numbers,  “Beat the hell out of that weakling, I am sending back-up now,” he yelled on.

The weakened thugs staggered to their feet and dared to give a rotating kick at Lucas and a furious stamp of his foot on the ground, accompanied by a strong whisper of wind was all it took and they were raised and slammed on the ground , their heads crushed to a bloodied mesh.

“Oh my sweet kidney!”

Their ring leader exclaimed, gaping at Lucas who had his gaze lowered, his long hair covering his face, fist tightly molded.

“Who the fuck, are you, man? You hold on, my real men will soon be here, and you will be buried next to those shitty corpses!”

Promptly, the innumerable grunting of power bikes rode in, and red-faced, thick, burly face-masked men, bearing heavily tattooed bodies, got down.

They were about twenty of them, armed with heavy rifles with chains of bullets round their shoulders.

“What is it, boss? What is happening?” they asked indistinctly.

“That stiff-neck bitch has fallen my men. Don’t fight with him. He seems to be heady. Take a shot. I need him buried next to those graves now!” he ordered.

“Yes sir!”

At this point, Lucas seemed unbothered; he still maintained his posture.

“You stay right there like a frozen chicken. You are dead!” the man barked and ordered, “Fire this dog hole!”

Their rifles corked powerfully and countless rugged shots cracked and made at him. Stamping his feet, a reverberating force tossed him into the air and he landed on their heads with the weight of a mountain, leaving them crippled on the ground, the rifles fallen off.

Their ring leader gaped at Lucas.

“Please, ple…ease, don’t kill me,” one of them pleaded, his bloodied mouth shaky.

He sent a wavy kick across their necks and they lost breath.

A shiver of silence hung over their ring leader and he dared to run away.

But it was too late, Lucas slammed his palms together, commanding the sand and the dust around and tossed them into his eyes, and he lost focus.

“Oh please, don’t do this! I underestimated you. Please!” he kept pleading pulling back on his bum, unknowingly approaching a pit.

Lucas kept mute until he fell in. Grabbing a shovel, he got the pit and covered him up until his scream couldn’t be heard.

Promptly the phone of the ringleader on the ground began to ring, and he picked it up.