"There's no reason for that," said Chance.
While Chance was talking, Chance simultaneously threw a solid Thai teep, or front kick, right into the middle of Asher’s chest, knocking him back six inches.
"Oh Sonny, I think there is," he said coming forward at Chance.
Since Asher's center of gravity was lower than Chance’s, Chance felt he would have to drop to be able to push him back. So, instead, he let Asher come in close then he stepped back and, with his closest leg, he landed a hard, powerful round kick into Asher's thigh. From the years of training Savate and Muay Thai, Chance’s kick went up and out like a solid swing of an ax. Asher winced in pain, at the immediate, and overwhelming pain that shot through his leg. Chance prepared for another kick, his leg again, coming up, and down like an ax. Asher threw up his knee, blocking Chance's leg. Asher came in close, and threw Chance down in a fireman's carry takedown. Chance feared to be on the ground with Asher, knowing the Walking Man who had an extensive background in wrestling and judo. So, he threw a kick to at Asher. The strike was weak but created space. Leaping up, Chance kept backing away from the grappler.
"That's the problem," said Asher. "You always thought you were too cool for school. Well, you ain’t and I’m about to teach you that. I’m about to take you back to school, to the old school.”
In a split second, Asher landed on his knees right in front of Chance. The Walking Man grabbed Chance's front leg ad lifted him high into the air. Asher attempted a tree-top takedown. Cries-For-War tried to throw his leg up in the air but Chance just jumped up, skipping on his one leg to stay off the ground. As he felt himself fly into the air, Chance saw the opportunity to throw a solid cross into Asher's brow. Asher's eyes grew wild, as he desperately clung to consciousness. He dropped Chance's leg and stumbled back.
Chance did not want to get closer. Chance wanted to fight the way he had trained to fight and stick to a kickboxing style of fighting. Chance threw a double jab and followed this with another round house kick to Asher's bruised leg. Asher stumbled back, and Chance did a switch kick throwing a high kick at Asher's head. Asher stepped back and missed Chance's kick. Before Chance's foot even hit the ground, Asher barreled forward. He tried to tackle Chance but was too disoriented. Realizing he couldn't do this, he threw Chance over his hip. Chance went into the air and then slammed onto the ground. Asher assumed a position on top of Chance and began dropping elbows into the side of Chance's face.
It was now Chance’s turn to become disoriented. He threw weak, ineffective punches with no success. Asher jumped from side-control into the full mount. Both of his legs were on either side of Chance's torso. Asher kept his head low and in perfect form. He moved his forearms up and began a text-book cross-collar choke.
The choke was slow and deliberate. The world began to spin, and bright colors began to block Chance's eyesight. He could not breathe. Instead of turning red, his whole face turned green.
With no other choice, Chance reached up and tapped on Asher's shoulder. Asher kept the pressure on Chance's throat but stopped the choke.
“Are you tapping out?” asked Asher.
Chance attempted to nod his head.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Son,” he said as he released his grip. “This ain’t no game.”
Then from his position, Asher began slamming punches into Chance’s head until Chance’s world exploded into bright colors, and then his eyes slammed shut into involuntary darkness. Asher stood up and dusted himself off. He flexed his face, trying to see if there was any damage to his jaw. He may have won the fight, but he felt the damage Chance had inflicted. He began to limp away from Chance, to get help, but the envelope caught his eye. He reached down and picked it up. Inside it was another photograph, one that he had not seen. It was hidden stuck to the back of one of the others so he pried it from the picture and held it up.
"We've been traveling all over Oklahoma, and it turns out she was under our nose the entire time," said Asher. "Sasha Ferrell. She is the real enemy."
Part III
The Witch-Queen
“…in my dust I leave heartache”
Don’t call me an outlaw - Evan Michaels
CHAPTER 1: THE PONCA CITY LIBRARY
Gavan/Chance - Ponca City, Ok
Both Sam and Gavan sat in Gavan's vehicle. They parked the car outside of the Ponca City library, their skin glowing with nervous perspiration. Both men knew they were dealing with very dangerous men, one in particular. Asher Cries-For-War.
"Alright, let's do this," Gavan’s voice wavered.
They got out of their vehicle and walked up the stairs to the Ponca City library. Fear and panic grew all across the state, but the library appeared unchanged. The world inside the library still felt slow- unaffected by the outside world. Inside the library, people worked, furiously, but silently. A woman passed by them, and while the City was known for its compassion, this woman gave the pair a look as if to say, "oh no, not another vagrant."
The two looked down at themselves, suddenly conscious of their appearance. They both looked like vagrants, and they knew the woman had smelled their sweaty clothes as she walked past. Gavan and Sam had assumed the best way to approach a Nomad was to wear clothing in their style of dress.
"Body odor is not inconspicuous," said Gavan to himself.
"I can't do this. That man broke my arm," said Sam. He looked as if he was going to leave the library.
Gavan suddenly grabbed his arm. "You're not going anywhere."
"I don't like this -" whispered Sam.
"You know what I don't like?" asked an unfamiliar voice.
The pair turned around, and there stood a library technician in front of them. The man had round, brown glasses, and brown and balding hair which formed a distinctive widow's peak. He also had a full brown beard speckled with a gray that women found themselves attracted to and men were envious of. While the world was growing more obese every day, this man wearing black converse shoes was notably thin. He wore corduroy pants that were particularly tight and were held in place by a brown leather belt buckle that had "NPR" on the front of it. He wore a tie and a blue shirt with the emblem of the Oklahoma Historical Society on it. In the way only an intellectual could, he condescendingly drank from a coffee mug.
"I don't like it when people speak in the library," said the hipster.
"We're sorry, we were just leaving -" started Sam.
"No you weren't," said the library technician. "You are one of them -"
"No, we're homeless -"
"Never interrupt a librarian in the library!" said the technician. "You smell like rancid milk, and you look like vagabonds."
"Vagabonds? Who speaks like that?" asked Sam. "And, you know, you can't always judge a book by its cover."
"What is that supposed to mean?" asked the technician. "You think I don't do my research...Sam?"
The hipster pulled out a laminated picture from his wallet and held it up. It was Sam's senior picture. He turned it to the other side, and there was a candid picture of Sam standing beside his car. The technician pulled out another photo, this one of Gavan.
"You're right about judgement on false pretenses, Sam. But not why you think you are."
"Who are you?" asked Gavan.
"You're right, Sam, you can't always judge a book by its cover," the technician continued. He pulled his glasses down and looked over them. "You know, not all the Nomads are trigger-pullers, some of us actually in support. Maybe next time you could dress up. You smell like someone vomited after drinking blood and consuming raw fish."
Sam and Gavan looked at each other with a dumbfounded expression and then back at the technician. He smiled and turned his head to the side, showing what appeared to be a hearing aid behind the lobe of his ear. Next, he took a thick pen, which upon closer look was more massive than an average writing utensil.
"Yeah, these two douche-clowns are up here...yeah, they stand out like sore thumbs," he spoke as he pressed down the top of the pen w
ith his thumb.
After ending the radio transmission, the technician looked at Sam and Gavan before bending his head forward, as if to convey a private message.
"My name is Sean. I am in personnel operations and assist in developing communication systems for the Nomads. Welcome to the team. Gavan, I want you to walk to my right, and down the stairs. In the references section, you will find a book titled Oklahombres by Evert Nix. Wait there. Sam, you are going to wait a total of ten minutes, then you go down the stairs to my left. You will then be escorted by another member of the Historical Society to the references section. Welcome to the team, and this is the last I am I going to speak to you while you are in town."
Gavan nodded his head in acknowledgment, then went downstairs as instructed. Sam looked back at Sean who coldly stared at the teenager, who was looking around them, ensuring there were no wandering eyes that caught them together. Sam wandered around the library. He looked at his watch and, seeing the time, went down to the library just as instructed. He stood in the corner, waiting to be greeted by another Nomad.
"What's going on, newbie?" said an unfamiliar voice.
Sam turned to see the voice. There stood a man, approximately five and a half feet tall, with jet black hair, tied back, neatly and tightly, into a ponytail. This man also wore round glasses, pressed khaki pants and a light purple collared shirt with an emblem of the Oklahoma Historical Society. Sam scrunched as he tried to recall the man he saw before this one. Feelings of déjà vu hit him like punch in the genitals.
"The Walking Man," whispered Sam.
"Yes, newbie, the Walking Man. Now, let's go and figure out our next move," said Asher.
The two convened in an office on the bottom floor of the library that was next to the references section. Asher also wore a visible hearing aid which Gavan and Samson assumed was a two-way radio. There was another person in the room, an old, black man who looked like he had come straight from the Old West. This old man wore contemporary clothes, but his face and eyes looked aged and wise, and tucked away in the corner was man wearing a black hood over his head.
"Mr. Adams?" said Sam squinting as he stared at the old man. "Our janitor?"
Mr. Adams smiled and raised his finger to his head as if to tip an imaginary cowboy hat.
”Then,” said Samson squinting again, staring at another figure in the corner, “who is that?”
"That?" asked Asher "That is the man you have been jealous of, Jon Tecumseh Chance aka Chance Tecumseh Freeborne."
"The most wanted man in the Panhandle State," said Gavan, who was surprised at himself for saying his thoughts aloud.
"But not the most dangerous in Oklahoma," Asher responded.
"And who would that be?" asked Sam.
"Who is the most dangerous man in Oklahoma?" asked Asher, with a broad grin. "You're looking at him."
They laughed and took their seats, and Sam noticed that Chance remained silent and hidden behind his black hood.
"Alright, enough with the nonsense. Let's get done to brass tacks," said Asher. "There is one person who has tied this whole thing together. That person has been like a regular Jim Henson, pulling strings on us all while directing the Son’s movements and telling Gorgon Bartok what the Dark Lord wants. We believe that we have been falsely targeting the Sons."
"But if the Sons aren't the enemy," said Seth Adams. "In the end, we're going to wish they were."
"Sasha Ferrell," said Asher had a slight sneer in his eyes as he spoke with a slow and deliberate articulation. “I believe she actually can destroy the soul," said Asher.
"Well, she can do some damage," said the voice behind the black hood.
Chance pulled back the hood that covered his face. Chance still had his blonde hair and red beard, but there was no humanity left in his face. The most alarming feature was the red nocturnal eyes that had replaced his blue eyes. The pointed tips of his teeth were visible over his green lips.
"We know nothing about her," said Asher. "Does anyone know anything about her?"
"I know I wanted her more than anything I've ever wanted before. Even more than football," said Sam.
"That's hard to do,” said Asher, man I loved football.”
"That's saying a whole lot," said Seth. "There's something about her."
"She wasn't the hottest teacher, but you know, just something about her. It's like an addiction," said Sam.
Asher looked over at Seth and their concerned eyes locked.
“Are you thinking about Kenton, Oklahoma? Are you thinking what the Council of the Elder Races would think about this?” asked Asher.
“Yes,” said Seth.
“I meant, what are you thinking about doing with Kenton,” said Asher.
“I am thinking,” Seth paused. “I hate doing this, especially right now. But, I think I need to go out there and do some planning with the Council of Elder Races. And with Sam here, we know something now. We need to dedicate people to find information about her. But we can't afford to leave the mission now. When we have our hands on the Son’s throat, we can't let go of our chokehold to stop and try to and throw haymakers."
Sam and Gavan looked at each other and silently nodded. They turned their heads to Asher, and Gavan was about to answer.
"Alright," said Asher. “We get it. In the army, this is called being ‘volun-told.' We knew you were up for the challenge, that's why we brought you here. But the question is, where do we look? Our signal guys have been on the internet, and there is almost nothing."
"She is a very secretive person," said Chance. "And, if it were a normal situation, it would have been extremely alarming. But this is not a normal situation. She got away with everything. In her home, she had no pictures of friends or family. Her house was almost empty. I believe that the house was set up to leave."
"I've seen a class ring which she only wore once. She wore it around her neck. I remember it because it said the name ‘gorillas' on it."
"Gorillas?" asked Gavan.
"But I'm not sure if it was a class ring. It was huge and it had the year 1985 on it," said Sam.
"I know that town. Picher Oklahoma gorillas," said Asher.
"Picher, Oklahoma?" asked Gavan.
"Yes," said Asher before looking at Seth and back to Gavan, "Picher, Oklahoma."
"The Chernobyl of Oklahoma?" asked Gavan.
"Not just Oklahoma. It’s the Chernobyl of the Western Hemisphere," said Asher. "The most toxic place in North America."
"Picher. Yes, I believe I have heard her mention that town before," said Sam.
"So are you saying we should send people to Picher to research her?" asked Asher.
Seth nodded in agreement and then turned to look directly at Asher.
"You know, you're going to need some help," he said.
Asher started to speak, but paused. The irritation in his face visible, before slowly turning to Seth. "Help?"
"Chat and zinc mines -"
"I don't like this where this is going," said Asher.
"We can't pull fighters away to go investigate Sasha Ferrell’s ties to Picher, we need someone with tactical knowledge -"
"They weren't trained by me -"
"They have survived this long haven't they?"
"I don't know how -"
"You really think that's a good idea?"
"I think that's what we got," said Seth, his words respectfully articulated, as he could see Gavan and Sam hanging on to his words.
"Don't worry boys, he's right. Those guys have enough guns to make a Swiss armory jealous," said Asher. "Don't worry, we would not have voluntold you if we didn't trust you. You guys are going to have to go just south of Stillwater, to the town Ingalls. You've heard of the town, right?"
"Of course I have heard of Ingalls. I'm an Okie. Battle of Ingalls: Bat Masterson' brother, Jim and Bill Doolin," said Samson.
"You will be met by the twins in Ingalls before you head to Picher," said Asher. "It is a dangerous town. Even with the addition of heat-p
ackin-mythological creatures gunnin' for you, stick to what the twins tell you."
"The twins?" asked Gavan, "who are they?"
“You guys are in for an interesting chapter,” said Asher Cries-For-War.
CHAPTER 2: AN ODD PAIR OF COCONUTS
Gavan - Ingalls, Ok
"The Walking Man told us to stop here," said Sam looking at his smartphone.
"You know you can call him Asher. The Walking Man has a name."
The Dark Lord of Oklahoma Page 22
