Well, that went better than expected..
Dragon steps into the squalid hellhole that currently provides him shelter, closing and locking the door behind him. Slipping the shoes from his feet, he steps to the center of the sparsely-decorated apartment and kneels, closing his eyes.
Shiva knows I'm alive. And while I can certainly count on her to keep mum on the subject, if she found out, that means others will find out as well. I may have to prepare for visitors.
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An alleyway in New York.
A red-haired man, hands shoved in the pockets of his dingy jacket, wanders down an alleyway, taking a shortcut on his way to the apartment he currently calls home.
Peeling themselves from the shadows of the alleyway, three street-toughs advance with a menacing air, brandishing improvised weapons.
Dragon glances at the figures confronting him, eyes flicking across them to take note of their stance, their weapons.. a chain.. a knife.. a pipe.
"Look, fellas. I'm not looking for trouble."
Here it comes. "But trouble's found you."
The thin thug, who appears smart enough to have two braincells to rub together, responds. "Oh, yeah? Well, trouble's found you."
Ugh. The worst thing about these little encounters has to be the dialogue.
"Guys, you're really barking up the wrong tree. I'm broke."
The heavier one on the left responds this time. "Yeah, cause we're gonna break you!"
Allright, that's enough.
"Last chance, boys."
The three laugh and whoop as they charge forward, swinging the weapons without any sort of technique at all. Dragon springs to the right, hands still pocketed, delivering a hard kick to a trashcan, sending it hurtling on its side at the feet of the oncoming assailants. Two of them trip up, leaving the one on the left, still hurtling onward like a rhinocerous.
With a fluid motion, Richard slides his jacket from his shoulders, one hand grabbing a freed sleeve, wielding the beaten windbreaker almost like a whip.
The thug pauses to consider the situation, to his credit. Then laughs at the sight. Barely one chuckle has time to escape his throat before the jacket lashes out, the loose sleeve wrapping around his throat tightly.
The Dragon smiles. The mugger's eyes widen as he gasps for air. There's a swift, forceful tug, and the thug comes hurtling towards the master martial artist, who frees him from the grip of the sleeve with a bone-crunching punch.
The other pair are just regaining their feet, in time to see their associate disabled so quickly.
"Is this the part where I say 'Come Get Some'? Or 'Who wants more'?"
They glance at each other in a wordless panic, and run frantically away down the alley.
Richard Dragon slips his coat back onto his shoulders, and continues on his way home.