We've had enough of your shit, asshole. Meet me in an hour behind the grocery shop between the cafe and the 3rd candy stored down the street. Or are you too scared?
It said on the paper with bad handwriting and countless spelling mistakes
They had invited Arthur to a rather sudden, but interesting meeting, by his enemies. He never headed straight home after school.
He had an abusive uncle at home, so he'd normally head to the internet cafe, basketball, or library, so he had a lot of spare time, but today he had an arranged 'interesting' meeting and of course, he'd so nonchalantly accept.
No, threatened him to come 'or else'... The classic threat, he had been practicing martial arts, Krav maga to be specific, and building muscles for the past months. The day had come when he could beat the shit out of them.
Yes, Arthur had an undying thirst for revenge and loath-fixated on them. For months Arthur kept training hard while keeping a low profile at school, planning his next move. Arthur stopped hiding from the bullies and started replying in kind to every single insult they threw at him, using the best quick-witted roast lines he had found online.
He had prepared exclusively for this day, the day he'd get his vengeance. It was as if they had decreed the encounter in the heavens above. Arthur had been planning to tell his bullies the same, to meet up someplace for a showdown.
He wore sturdy, good-quality spiked mountain shoes, not heavy, and had spikes on the soles. This was the special thing about them; Spikes. They were good at running and had a good grip. They could be useful in the woods or snow-covered areas.
It may have sounded like an over-exaggeration but the second thing on the list carried a medium-sized pocket knife, his elder brother Elric had taught him, always carry a pocket knife around no matter what.
He had also chosen his clothing selectively; it comprised ankle-long steelongs he had folded to his knees like shorts he on top of it wore ankle-high long and baggy sand-colored jeans. The steelongs allowed him to keep warm and folding them allowed air to get to his legs despite keeping warm.
The baggy sand-colored jeans were thick but baggy that let air flow in, and allowed for free movement. His tops comprised a green shirt with string tassels at the collar, a reddish-brown coat, with on top all of that, an all-weather jacket.
Arthur was coming directly from home, unlike his bullies that did whatever they wanted, even went away from school when they wanted.
Arthur was at 15 now, being in the 10th year of school. On his way, he was reminiscing about his childhood. Arthur remembered the younger him when he was 11 years old of age.
He was a good kid with a brilliant talent for reading among other kids in his class.
The teachers would always praise him for being quick to answer.
He was always good at getting the pronunciation of words correct and could read a chapter from the book without running out of breath.
But this made his fellow students dislike him at the same time.
Some started bullying him as the days went on and, even when Arthur asked for help from his Teachers, no one helped him.
The bullying was to the extent they would threaten him about attending an exclusive school competition of some sort.
People were around most times, but in fact, some of them would point fingers and laugh at him. If not, when he asked for help, he'd get the same answer:
"Man the hell up!"
Some say it's just a small quarrel between children, while some try to smother the incidents to avoid being accused of neglecting the students of their class by the school management.
'Man the hell up' Arthur had done something with that.
In the first place, he had never been a weak kid. He'd push away the bullies he could, but in every gang of bullies, there's always a warlord.
The leader was pretty strong, the bullies that worked for the leader some of them were strong (for kids).
The problem was not the bullies; it was them coming in groups ganging upon him. And some of them were pretty strong.
And it'd be hard to face 4 different people around the same level of strength ganging up on you.
'Man the hell up', they said, that's what Arthur would do, he asked his mother to let him join a dojo and learn martial arts, and to his surprise, he did not have to beg or even ask twice.
His mother saw it as an opportunity for him to not sit at the internet cafe all day and be playing video games... or that was what she thought he did all day. But at least she didn't say no.
Once in middle school, it didn't even take a month before the bullying started. His cheap clothes and gloomy disposition made him the easiest targets.
He was so used to being tossed around and insulted that they didn't even bother trying to fight back.
But he had one thing that they couldn't do anything with.
If anyone tried to touch his sister he'd beat them, even if it man trouble for him, physically or by school policy.
He had gotten this mindset from his elder brother, Elric; he was the type that looked after the family.
This gave Arthur the impression of defending his little sister, the same way his brother defended the three.
But Elric was no superhuman. He couldn't be there for them every time, so he taught them basic self-defense, and sent links to them where they could learn how-to-fight-tricks-and-tips-easy-steps.
Arthur had for long stopped fearing his bullies. If they attempted to corner him and they were 2-3 guys, he'd push them easily away one-one.
He stopped hiding from the bullies and started replying in kind to every single insult they threw at him, using the best quick-witted roast lines he had found online.
Arthur paid attention to never going to the bathroom or to remaining alone for too long, always keeping an adult or person witness in line of sight.
Arthur maneuvered through the countless shops, road walks, and alleyways until he arrived at his destination. There they waited for him.
It wasn't only them, an entire load of them 3-5 more people, a full group of them standing there waiting for him.
This made them around 7.
Three were standing up front, leaning against the wall at the end of the blind alley.
Going back to Elric, he was no joke to be underestimated, in anything. He was calm and nice, but if it was needed, he could be physical with his body and act rashly in his mind.
And he was smart and had a thirst for knowledge, aiming to be a surgeon.
Arthur was standing right in the alleyway's corner. He had the choice of fight or jet.
He stepped up, revealing himself. He turned 180 degrees to the left, facing them standing leaning against the wall.
Bats and metal rods were under their arms, and staring up in the sky like anime characters.
"You're late, fucker," a voice shot up