NOTE: And... Shucks. This is not my best, but at least the next and the last Installment would involve better descriptions, more action and more romance~ So wait for it! (I love how I managed to use foreign words and actions here XD)
The fire crackled heartily in the platinum fireplace, while thrushes chirped cheerfully in the midst of the lush evergreen trees.
The homely room area was peacefully dimly lit as a silver Neo-Baroque shone its vermillion rays of light shallowly around the room. The expected silence was broken by a allegro rhythmic pounding sound that would put have put a snare drummer to shame.'Nice, but I that does not suit my style. Too rooted.' A voice sounded, the location of the source unidentifiable.
ÆGLÆCA turned in surprise and tried to find the mystery visitor in his room. As he scanned the area and looked around cautiously, he literally tripped and scrambled back in fright as a shadow was cast right beside him.
'Dad, you can't be that weak right?' I asked. 'You were the one who taught me how to use my body to its full potential.'
'ÆSEN, please, you are on a skill level too high for me to keep up anymore.' Dad protested. 'The Parkour that you picked up, it allows you to blend in, and allows you to move at Godspeeds. Maybe allowing you to be a traceur was a big mistake.' Dad heaved a sigh of mock regret.
I laughed it off and began to look around. This is one of the first times I felt really at home. As Dad resumed his bullet hacking, I sat on his Cantilever chair trying to visualize new moves and reflect on my life.
ÆlÆNOR had seemingly dumped me, though that was only on a surface level perspective. School was getting more and more boring and I have mastered the full art of Parkour, though new moves kept coming up in my head. I began to know the meaning of 'Live to learn, learn to live'. I got up and slipped out of the room, Dad fully unaware. I heard a sizzling noise. That was the fifty-sixth punching bag Dad burst, I deductively reasoned. I smiled and got out of the room.
My training room was in the basement but I was on the third floor. I did not take the stairs. No, my house had no elevators. I dashed toward the terrace balcony of the house and...executed a Saut de Fond. The white polished ornamental stepping stones neatly arranged on the deep green grass seemed to inch nearer as I allowed myself to freefall. Executing a cat-twist in mid-air, I built up momentum as the continuous rotatary motion made me go faster and made everything so much cooler, both physically and figuratively. I straightened myself, head down, corkscrewing with both my hands and arms by my side. My raven black hair was swept backward by the slicing trailwind as I continued to corkscrew plummet down. I stretched out my hands, performed a Demitour, grabbing a grip on a mango tree branch, that broke off immediately after I grabbed it. The Passement Assis was considered useful in that situation, as, if I did not learn that, I would have fallen all the way down together with that weak branch. As it fell all the way down, I did not have time to heave a sigh of relief. I gained enough momentum to propel myself forward as I managed to swing the instant I gripped the branch. I rushed toward the open window of my room, landing with the format of the Saut de Rotation on the first floor, allowing momentum to do its job. I entered my room with savage speed, ending up in my bed. I got up unscathed, dusted my clothes and leapt through the trap door under my Arabian carpet, which lead to the basement. No elevators or stairs were used. Not even a ladder.
The walls were pine brown in color, and the floor was full asphalt. The area was a jungle of wooden and stone obstacles and railings for me to practise Lâchés, Saut de chat inversé, Saut de précision, Passe murailles and many other more Parkour stances. My record on the 150" Plasma screen was standing at three minutes to overcome a full 50m x 25m asphalt flooring indoor sports hall. I planned to best that today. I did, and I almost sprained my ankle. I did not. I beat my record standing at two and a half minutes.
I executed Passe Muraille to get up to my room, then proceeded to the grand hall. Ællen, my grandfather, was sitting on the couch reading articles on Chinese history and the British Economy. I greeted him and settled down on the davenport sofa to catch my breath. As the house was in almost total silence, I heard heavy running steps outside the apartment.
Our simple door was barged down and Carabinieri started to storm him and scan the place. I was shocked as the unwelcome visitors began to tell us to put Gramp's and my heads on our heads, but we obliged. They started questioning us on where Dad was. I was confused, on what crime Dad had commited. He has got a file on Interpol but, he would have been professional enough to cover his tracks.
I calculated the odds of each scenario. First, I let my Dad be captured, then Gramps and I bust him out of prison. Second, we fight off the cops then buy us some time to strategize, with Dad. I gave a meaningful glance at Grandpa and executed a Saut de Mur, gaining swift access to the staircase. Then Passe Muraille from the first flight of stairs to the second storey, leaving all the machine gun bullets missing me narrowly. I rushed toward Dad's room and the last scene I saw was Gramps changing his stance, ready for his หมัดเหวี่ยงกลับ, the most originally modiefied, and the most fatal Muay Thai techique of his. One would have felt sorry for the ratio of a 1:24 battle scenario. Felt sorry for the twenty-four people that is.
Ællen took out the first cop easily by jabbing his fist into the opponent's neck nerve cluster. What followed were sequences of rapid fire หมัดเหวี่ยงสั้น, leaving many Carabinieri bodies battered and beaten. The jabs were all speed, but little weight, however with Ællen หมัดเหวี่ยงสั้น rapidly in succession, the accumulated impact would have been enough to fall a medium sized hippopotamus. The last few immediately arm shields, pointing Desert Eagles at the fighter whom had just felled about half of their professional strike team. One cop took aim and fired. Ællen equipped his steel metal gloves and wristguards with a reinforced iron elbow and knee pad. He executed a ศอกพุ่ง to deflect the spinning bullet at terminal velocity, and he used a ศอกเหวี่ยงกลับ-กระโดดศอก to immediately knock out the opponent. The metal brace on his elbow immediately shattered the protective tinted plastic face shied, allowing full access of the impact to reach his pitiful face. The cop's face was not a pretty sight.At close quarters, the rest of the cops were dispatched with multiple ศอกกลับคู่ in succession. The last one had his shield and plastic visor shattered by a กระโดดชก-กระโดดศอก. To watch Ællen in mid-air ready to land a final blow was as elegant as watching a ribbon gymnast twirl, albeit a ribbon gymnast whom uses her ribbon to tie up and incapicitate her enemies. Ællen unequipped his combat gear, tied the law enforcers up and threw them into the attic. After dusting his hands, he proceeded to ÆGLÆCA's room. Something was amiss and something had to be done.
Gramps entered the room to see me and Dad finishing the final plot. When he asked what was going to be done about this, Dad simply replied.
'This is a carefully planned set-up by another opponent, and this one is good, possibly on par with us, considering the fact he also has the law on his side. First I go to jail, then we take out whoever is doing this to us.'
Dad,go to jail? This was going to be the most exciting venture, possibly the last.
The room door opened. No one else was in the house except us three who were in the room. As we got our defenses up, a feminine voice sounded.
'Mind if I help?'
I looked up in total shock at the grinning face of ÆlÆNOR Rife, the top strategist in class.
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