Punched by an Angel
by Henry Wyckoff

A crossover between Kung Fu: The Legend Continues, Millennium, and Touched by an Angel



Chapter 16

Peter had already made the call for the medics, while Frank was keeping an eye on the wounded man. He'd already made a crude attempt of a bandage for the eye: some tissue covered by a strip of the man's shirt. The guy was starting to scream now, flailing around. Frank knew he wasn't as strong as he should have been, so he just backed away, looking at Peter occasionally, wondering when he'd get off the phone.

"The ambulance is on its way," Peter finally said. "They should have the lights on any minute too."

"Peter? I have a feeling this man isn't the way he should be."

"What do you mean?"

"I tried bandaging him up, but he should be bleeding a lot more. He's flailing around too."

"Wouldn't you be?"

"No," Frank stared at him. "When you burst an eye, the shock knocks you out cold. This guy's feeling every sensation, and that's not normal."

Thinking, that made sense. "Okay . . . then he's going to be really pissed off about that traffic jam. The ambulance is coming as fast as it can, but there's a severe accident that's going to delay it by at least five minutes."

"He won't like that a bit."

"No. I don't think so." Peter looked at the bars. "They're still hot. I wonder how he cut them so fast? I don't see any torches."

"He cut it with his sword," Frank whispered. "It's a wonder that Latro got out alive."

"There's no blood, so I think Latro wasn't hurt." Peter's phone buzzed. "Peter here." He listened for a few moments. "Thanks." He hung it up and had a strange look on his face. "Latro knocked out a clerk and took his clothes. Left his wallet, watch, and an apology note. This man is making less and less sense."

Frank shook his head, "He's making more sense. He's at war, and any innocent bystanders aren't the targets."

"What makes you say that?"

"The man's alive, isn't he? If Latro was some insane lunatic, he'd have killed the man. He left this man alive, even though I wouldn't envy his position."

"Come on! He was trying to get out of here."

"Yes, but he could have killed the man just as quickly."

* * *

As Latro walked, Odin paid him another visit.

"So, I see the Angel of Death still lives, eh? So does Monica. Why didn't you plug her when you had the chance?"

Latro ignored him.

"Come on, come on . . . I'm your friend. Don't shut me out!"

"You're my friend? Why is it that ever since I've met you, all I've done is hunt down and kill Angels? You know what I really miss? It's those long nights on the back porch, drinking whiskey and shooting the shit. Something as simple as that."

Odin stopped him, shaking his head, "You're getting nostalgic, and we can't have that. So is that what you want to do for the rest of your life? Get drunk on Scotch and talk? Listen to what you're saying!"

"Back in those days, I listened. I don't do much of that nowadays."

"Hey. If you need some time on your own, that's all right. Just take along some protection." He handed Latro the very same axe that was supposed to be in the evidence room. At seeing Latro's expression, he smiled, "It was fun. Think about all the fun you'll be having again."

Latro looked at the axe, and he felt those familiar feelings surge into him. This time, he fought back. "I don't need that."

"You're right. How about that rifle you like so much?"

"I don't need any weapons. I can't die, remember?"

Odin nearly wrung his hands, "This isn't like you!"

"So?"

Odin remained where he stood as Latro kept on walking, "You'll regret this! How would you like it if I gave Arioch a helping hand? He's just like me now, and he'll be glad to kill you for taking out his eye, never mind the murder of his friend!"

Latro muttered, "What else is news . . . "

He could have gone anywhere in the world, but he found himself going to the most unlikely place. The precinct.

* * *

Kermit saw the TV special on the Killer of Angels, and the interruption. Who else but the gabby McCuen . . .

"Our sources have just given us some fresh facts. First, it seems that a hitman snuck into the lockup area in the precinct and attempted to kill the suspect, who was being held in a cell under heavy supervision. Take a look at this footage from the security camera . . . "

On black-and-white film, with poor lighting, Arioch could be seen lazily walking down the room, and with two swings, he had the cell door open.

The manner in which Latro effortlessly punched out the man's eye was chilling, and even more so the way in which Arioch was slung into the corner by the hole now in his skull.

"Detectives Caine and Black are attempting to locate Latro, without much luck. In the meantime, what was once a simple and straight-forward case has now become a greater mystery, especially when we have just learned that the victims of the Killer of the Angels have no official identities. That's right; they were well-known in the community, but they have no official existence -- no fingerprints, no health insurance, no birth certificates, no history of paying taxes and so on.

"That's all the information we have for now, but that leaves us with a big question; who were these blanks within the system? Were their deaths something greater than random choice? Why would a hitman attempt to kill Latro? This is Sally McCuen, reporting."


Kermit swore under his breath. "Great. Now we have a leak."

The topic went back to Latro's choice of weapons. "Take a look at this baby . . . it was made in the last ten years at least, and must be a homemade job. What I really find interesting about this is the fact that it's a semi-automatic musket. But you don't have to pack it like you did in the old days. Nope, this baby fires homemade ammo that's a lot like a bullet. The clips work just like the clips on any regular bullet-firing rifle. It's pretty sad that something like this has to show up with these kind of events, 'cause I tell you, these are going to start popping up at gun shows as buyers show interest. I mean, the feel of firing one of these babies is better than sex!"

Monica looked at Kermit. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah . . . I got to get back to the precinct." He was stopped before he reached the door.

"Kermit?" It was Andrew.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for staying with me."

He nodded, "It's the least I can do. Just get better."


* * * *


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