The Relic Runner Origin Story Box Set by Ernest Dempsey (non fiction books to read TXT) 📕

feet as he twisted to the side. His preferred style was boxing. Dak had seen his skills in the ring during training sessions and in the gym when the team worked out together. He knew exactly how Carson would attack and what signs to look for. That wasn't to say he couldn't use his feet. Guys who leaned on boxing skills often did so to conceal a disabling strike from a kick when an enemy least expected it.

Dak considered letting his ex-teammate take the lead in the dance, but he knew that's what Carson expected. So he stepped in, closing the gap between them. He let anger streak across his face to allow Carson to believe he'd lost all sense of strategy and tactics, replacing them with fury.

He charged ahead and turned to throw a powerful cross punch. Carson dipped and raised his hands to protect his face, then let his back foot drop laterally to counter. He ducked the strike from Dak and jabbed hard, but Dak knew it was coming. He jumped and snapped his foot straight up into Carson's chin, flipping over backward in one motion. Dak landed on his feet with a bended knee, bracing the landing with one fist on the ground.

Carson staggered backward, his vision blurred. The world tilted to one side, and try as he did, he couldn't get it to steady.

Deno swore at the abrupt and powerful martial arts move. Bert said something in Spanish that Dak was certain to be profanity.

Dak moved in to end the fight with a second blow, but in his daze, Carson managed to sidestep a snap kick to the chest. He jabbed again as Dak lunged by and his fist caught the attacker on the jaw.

Dak's head whipped to the side. He felt a dull pain course through the bone. It was a good punch, but not good enough to knock him out or give him a concussion. He spun around in a circle, anticipating another cross punch to follow.

His guess proved correct. Carson launched his right fist forward, but he missed badly, still dazed from the kick to the chin. Dak jabbed back after the wild miss, his fist smacking into Carson's right cheek. He jabbed again and again, throttling the man with his fists until they were rubbed raw.

With each punch, Carson stumbled backward toward the hedgerow, like a boxer in a ring.

When he felt his back hit the brush, he knew there was nowhere left to go. Carson put up his hands and desperately blocked. Then Dak made a mistake.

In his fervor to end the fight quickly, he'd expelled tremendous energy throwing punch after punch, most of which landed with devastating accuracy.

But none of them had felled Carson, and now the big man fought back.

He wrapped his arms around Dak's neck as the punches grew weaker and pulled him close. Then came a surprise attack. Carson raised his knee hard into Dak's midsection.

Dak felt the air sucked out of his lungs in an instant. He doubled over, but that only made him more vulnerable.

Carson chopped down on the back of his neck with the side of his hand. If he hadn't been so beat up, the strike would have likely ended things then and there. As it was, Dak dropped to all fours and nearly blacked out. He crawled forward to grab at Carson's ankles, desperately hoping to trip him up and spill him onto his back.

Still, in a slight haze, face swollen and one eye shut, Carson saw the feeble attempt and brought his foot up fast, sending the bone crashing into the side of Dak's face.

Dak flopped over onto his side. Pain screamed at him from several points in his body, and he still couldn't find air for his lungs.

He tried to cough to clear a passage, but it didn't come.

Bert and his men merely watched.

"You think you can just track me down like I'm some animal?" Carson groused. "Huh?" He kicked Dak in the ribs. "You think I'm a chump you can pick a fight with? Is that it, Dak?"

No response came from Dak's lips. His lungs burned for lack of air, and he couldn't force a single word out of his throat.

"I don't hear you," Carson taunted. He reached down and grabbed Dak by the hair, raising his head so their eyes met. "You were stupid not to come with us, bro. You were stupid to come here. And you were stupid to leave that cave. Now you're going to die, just like you should have six months ago." He threw his head down and kicked Dak in the gut for good measure.

The blow unexpectedly reversed whatever damage the initial one had done. Dak felt air flood his lungs, and he gasped deeply, repeatedly, relief filling his entire body.

Carson stepped around behind Dak, who clawed at the ground to get some kind of distance.

"Nah, Dak," Carson said. "Where do you think you're going?"

He bent down to grab Dak's head. It was a move Dak had seen his teammate use on enemies in close quarters combat before. He recalled the first time he saw Carson snap someone's neck, and he knew that was what the man intended now.

Carson's thick fingers grabbed Dak's jaw on one side and the top of his head with the other. In two seconds, Dak would be dead.

He mustered every ounce of strength and wit he could as the muscular man pulled him up to his knees.

"Bye-bye, Dak. I think you've seen this one before."

Dak abruptly let his legs give out and his head slipped through Carson's sweaty fingers. While he fell forward, Dak kicked his right leg out hard and struck his opponent in the gut.

The blow drove Carson backward. It was his turn to feel the air leave his lungs. He hunched over, hoping gravity would help him, but Dak wasted no time.

He clambered to his feet and staggered over to the enemy. He raised his fist over his shoulder and whipped his hips around like