Pursuit and Retrieval

[chitoryu12†]

((Christopher Carlson continued from The Long Walk Home))

Chris was unusually happy this past week. At times, he could have a completely stoic, neutral disposition throughout most of the day, more out of boredom than anything. And yet he was practically skipping through the parking garage on his way to his new bicycle.

The bike was nice, finally giving him a mode of transport other than walking or buses, but it wasn't the reason for his elation. Instead, that was because he just got together with the girl of his dreams, Kelly Cowart. They had been best friends for months, and had grown closer and closer as the days went on until she admitted that there was only one person she loved more than him. With some encouragement from Sarah on the way home from the mall the week before, he had promptly asked her out on AIM of all things. And she accepted.

Chris had never had a girlfriend; indeed, the only girls who had ever paid him that kind of attention either never gave a hint of it out of nervousness or weren't his type. For once, he had found the perfect match. And so he had gone a week in his first relationship, a perfect week as far as he was concerned.

Chris rounded the corner to the bike rack, a bag with an Alice in Wonderland shirt hanging from his hand. Kelly loved the new Johnny Depp film, so he bought her a shirt with the Mad Hatter on it as his first gift for her.

Of course, Chris was the kind of person who led an interesting life. For some odd reason, shit always had to happen to him or someone around him. In this case, it was the person with wire cutters snipping his cheap-ass bike chain.

"Oh, no you don't bitch!"

When the thief heard the shout, he didn't bother with formalities like carefully unwrapping the chain or putting his tool away. He just spun, flung the wire cutters at Chris, and turned the bike from the rack. The chain fell from the frame and noisily clattered to the cement.

Chris easily ducked the unaimed attack, though it was more on reflex as it came within only about a foot of his head. But it gave him pause enough to allow the thief (who he could see was only slightly older than him, maybe college-aged) to hop on the bike and begin peddaling like mad to escape.

Chris may have had a bad leg, but it wouldn't affect him for such a short-distance move. He was about five yards from the bike as the guy took off, but could accelarate fast enough to close the gap before the bike was moving faster than him. As he reached the two-wheeling bastard, he dropped the bag and practically leapt at the guy, grabbing him around the waist and pulling him to the side.

The move tore the bikejacker from the seat and sent them both crashing to the ground. Chris twisted to the left as they went down, causing him to land more on the thief than the abrasive concrete. As he landed, he rolled off and quickly hopped up, holding his stomach in pain from the landing. The bike almost instantaneously went down as well, crashing not two feet away from them.

As the thief tried to scramble to his feet, Chris threw a kick at his head. He wasn't one for flashy martial arts moves that looked like shit out of a movie. It was a mostly-unaimed soccer kick that connected right on the dude's forehead. He rolled over, hands moving sluggishly to his head as he slightly blacked out.

Chris, seizing the opportunity, ran over the the bike chain (pausing to pick up the bag with his present first) and grabbed it off the ground. He slipped the Hot Topic bag's handles up his forearm, pulled his phone out, and promptly dialed 911. Before hitting the green "Call" button, he whacked the chain against the ground and began walking toward the moaning figure on the ground.

"You stay on the ground, motherfucker, or this chain goes on your head!" he boomed, using a voice more suited for projection on the stage, and put the phone to his ear.

----------

The police were there within less than five minutes. The officers seemed more bored than anything as they checked the very pissed-off thief for any more injuries. He had appaently been reduced to a throbbing headache from the kick, but was intimidated enough by his "victim" into staying put. After making sure that he wasn't in need of paramedics, he was cuffed, searched (revealing nothing but a pack of cigarettes and a pocket knife with a blade about the size of Chris' pinky), and hauled into the back of the car.

The officer took his statement, informing him that he would likely end up in court as a witness, and let him go on his way after they both shared a laugh about Chris picking up the bag before getting a weapon ("Like hell I was leaving my girlfriend's shirt on the ground!" he had said).

The bike home was a short and sweet one, though he was pumping with adrenaline. He never tried to cause fights at school -- no matter how angry he was -- preferring instead to wait until whichever person he was steaming at did something physical, at which point he could shed a bit of blood and claim self-defense, getting off practically scot free and giving the bastard what he deserved. As such, he even seemed to relish moments where someone did this kind of thing to him, letting him do what he always wanted to do to somebody without getting in trouble for it.

He rode his bike up the driveway and pulled the garage door open. His mother wasn't home; she had been working Saturdays a lot to try and keep her boss' mismanagement from wrecking their relationships with clients.

As he shut the garage door and began to walk into the laundry room, he pulled his phone out and put the Hot Topic bag on the kitchen counter, dialing Kelly.

"Hey love," he said. "You're going to love this."

((Christopher Carlson continued in Lunch for the bored and hungry.))