The Devil Wears Timbs 4 by Tranay Adams

Author:Tranay Adams
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: PublishDrive
Published: 2018-10-16T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

The sun seemed to be beaming its brightest that evening. Its rays shined through the partially cloudy sky and warmed the back of the men below. There were seven of them in all, but one of them stood out like a fly in butter milk. This nigga was naked from the neck down and dressed in a pair of black parachute pants. He had a fighter’s physique. His body was well defined by muscle and veins. The nasty scars that had amassed over his torso over time gave him character, and told the horrors of some of his most fierce battles and near death experiences. The expression he wore was one of concentration and determination. He stood in a martial arts fighting stance, his eyes bouncing around to all of the hard faces of the men in his presence.

They surrounded him, all six of them. His front, his back, his sides; he was trapped in the center of them. He was ready though. He was born ready. Shit, he was born to kill, that’s how he made his living. So this was nothing more than child’s play for him. Fists before his eyes, his head snapped in every which direction. His keen eyes taking in the hostile looks of the white garbed, black belts that encircled him, poised to take his fucking head off. They had a katana, dagger, kon, nun chucks, guillotine and saitachis. The men were all still like they were frozen. They were watching him closely and he was watching them. They wanted blood and he wanted their lives. All of their lives.

A bird screeched as it soared high across the sky, setting shit off.

“Ahhhh!” the assailant hollered as he charged forth with his kon. “Ooof!” a kick to the midsection sent his ass back where he came. He hit the ground hard as a mothafucka on his back and rolled backwards, tumbling.

Wop! Wap! Crack!

Anton’s fists and bare feet were like blurs in motion. He moved so fucking fast that these niggaz didn’t even know that he’d budged. All he saw was that nigga that had murdered his father’s face before his maddening eyes. The assault that he dished out gave his opponents expressions of agony, and this brought him great satisfaction. But it was only because he imagined that each and every one of them were his arch nemesis, Fear.

Ping! Ting! Clink! Ging!

The nun chucks, saitachis, dagger and katana hit the ground right after its wielders did. All six men were lying scattered on the ground with bruises and cuts appearing like magic on their faces and shit. With them out of commission, their ally was left to fight Anton head up.

The last men standing circled one another counter clockwise. They were locked into an intense stare down, studying one another carefully and trying to figure out their next moves. The man with the guillotine held his lengthy chain at one end while he winded the deadly end of his weapon up with the other. Abruptly, Anton stopped where he was and narrowed his eyelids at him.

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