Free Syphon: Guardians of the Fractured Realms by Chad Kunego Page B

didn’t even really remember the fight past the board breaking over his arm, only that there was pressure and movement, and then the stillness that follows a battle.
    Stillness that follows a battle…? Where did that thought come from?
    “So,” Carl began, “you mean to tell me that you scared away six or seven men? By yourself?”
    “No…” he said, steel suddenly appearing in his voice, “I said I stopped them.”
    Reflexively lurching back in his seat, Carl’s eyes widened for a moment before regaining his composure.
    “What do you mean by stopped, exactly?”
    “Well, by now the ambulance should have carted them off to the emergency room to get some bones reset is my guess…”
    “You actually fought with them…? And wo—”
    “Listen, I’ve really had a rough few days. I saw someone I knew getting hurt, with a real possibility of being killed, just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. When I saw it happening, something snapped inside. I approached them, told them to leave before they got hurt. They thought it was funny and decided a better idea was to try and jump me instead. They learned their idea was flawed. In my opinion, they got what they deserved. End of story.”
    Samuel watched as the other man’s mouth opened and closed silently several times before he spoke again.
    “So, just so I understand this correctly and that there’s no misunderstanding, you saw your friend being—”
    “Hank.”
    “Excuse me, you saw ‘Hank’ being jumped by several men. You told them to leave instead of trying to take them by surprise, got in a fistfight, and won?”
    “Pretty much, except they’d picked up boards and pipes and stuff before they tried to attack me. Are we through here? I’ve had a long day already, my friend’s hurt, and I’m starving again. If you don’t mind me asking, when’s dinner?”
    “Uh… Dinner’s in a, uh, half hour or, uh, so…”
    “Thank you.”
    As he stood up and reached for the door, he turned back to Carl.
    “Take good care of my friend, please.”
    Samuel walked out of the office, leaving Carl with his mouth hanging open.

Chapter 11
    Cora was beginning to suspect she got the short end of the stick after visiting her first two shelters. How those shelter workers could stand to be around so many people who either didn’t bathe regularly, had some form of mental illness, were former cons, just fell on hard times, or some combination of the above she’d never be able to figure out. Some of the regulars had surprised her with their intelligence or observational skill, but they were overshadowed by the others that had invisible friends or thought the aliens were going to be coming back any day.
    A few even started getting agitated when they found out she was a cop, stating they kept getting hassled by other cops. She couldn’t help but wonder if Frank was having an easier go of it talking to funeral directors. While she considered the likelihood of switching jobs with Frank, her phone rang.
    “Yeah? Cora speaking.”
    “Cora, it’s Frank. There’s been another alleyway incident.”
    “Seriously? How bad?”
    “Nine guys. None of them upwardly mobile. Multiple bone fractures. Evidence this time of weapons use, but something isn’t quite right about the whole scene. Unless I’m missing something, only the perps in the alley were using weapons. Their injuries are consistent with unarmed strikes as far as I can tell. None of them were in any condition to answer questions though. If this is still the work of our suspect, then my assessment of his prowess just took another significant jump. A lot of their improvised weapons show evidence of being bent or broken. How that’s even possible is a little worrisome, quite honestly. If our suspect wasn’t using weapons himself, then how was he breaking their weapons? I’ve seen kyokushin stylists break bats over arms and legs on the internet, but not bending steel pipes. It’s not adding up.”
    “On my