A Good Day To Die, Don't You Think So?

I was gasping for breath, staring at the exit now blocked by at least twelve young men, laughing joyfully as they swung their baseball bats, clearly seeing that I was cornered. I took a deep breath, trying to calm the racing of my heart. My fear wasn't for myself, but for the box I held tightly. This box contained my last hope, my job, my future, everything. If it broke, there'd be nothing left of value to me. I'd be fired, and the home owned by Master would surely vanish. I'd be left wandering aimlessly. Such thoughts saddened my heart deeply. I forced myself to breathe steadily, trying to ward off the fatigue and the pain in my head. As I touched it, I felt something warm and saw blood on my fingers and hand. I gently placed the Macallan box in a corner and decided that I must defend this box with my life. This is my future.

Taking another deep breath, I glared at them, one by one, and took a step forward to face the approaching crowd, about twenty of them. I might be a target for their bats, but I won't ever be one who's hit without fighting back. I removed my clothes, knowing that in a fight with many, wearing clothes would just give them the opportunity to grab and throw me down. I didn't care about what I faced, but I knew they wanted to destroy me just for fun. I inhaled deeply to calm myself, watching them laugh and smile as if they were about to feast on me.

Feast?

They could potentially kill me if twenty of them each threw a punch, which would total twenty punches on my body. It's hard to imagine that there'd be twenty willing to chase after me and not land a punch or two.

They'd kill me.

But why? My eyes locked onto the men in front of me; I didn't know them. I held no blood grudge against them, never disturbed them, and never harmed their families. So why did they want to hurt and kill me? My hands clenched. They were just humans thirsty for violence, hitting for their own amusement. Rage burned within every cell in my body. It was their gang that had already destroyed my Macallan.

---

Let me die here, but I will take them with me.

Four of them attacked me at once, taking advantage of the narrow alley. I immediately charged at them, catching the one in the middle off guard. Before he could swing his bat, I punched straight at his throat, using all my strength for a single purpose.

Kill or be killed.

My punch made him fall back, dropping his bat as he clutched his choking throat. Two baseball bat blows aimed at my head, but I managed to block them with my left and right arms. It hurt, but I ignored the pain, knowing I had to keep attacking. My muscles tensed as I grabbed the fallen bat, swinging it at my opponent's head with all my might, again with one intention.

To kill.

There was no doubt in my mind; I had two choices - kill or be killed, and I didn't hesitate to choose the former. Actions driven by a murderous intent come with terrifying speed and deadliness. An opponent's head was knocked clean off, causing the baseball bat to crack upon impact. I took two hits and gave two in return.

Two of them were down, unable to attack again. Four more charged from the front, and the two who were behind me resumed their attack. I wasn't going to back down even a step, so I kept moving forward to face the four ahead. My bat swiftly targeted and pierced the throat of one attacker, sending him flying backward. I tried to dodge blows from the side and back while advancing, but a hit landed on my back, and another penetrated the side of my shoulder. The pain reached deep into my bones.

I gritted my teeth, bearing the pain. Suddenly, I spun around to face the person behind me who thought I would keep advancing, feeling safe attacking from behind. Without any hesitation, I swung my bat sideways, smashing his teeth. Clearly, his teeth shattered as his mouth immediately gushed blood and the baseball bat I held broke apart. The element of surprise is always an effective tactic, striking where they least expect. While shielding with his body, I kicked another one right in his groin as hard as possible.

---

At this moment, I need to save myself, and the best places to deliver a decisive blow to incapacitate an opponent are my best choices. I picked up another fallen baseball bat, but a bat strike hit my head from behind, making my vision go dark momentarily and the world seemed to wobble. Without looking, I retaliated with my bat, swinging hard into his right ribs. This surely fractured his ribs and sent him to the ground, screaming in agony.

Five men and I took five hits.

"Catch him… Paralyze him!" shouted someone I couldn't see. Again, I faced them, and the next three attacked. They weren't just swinging their bats, which would have been preferable. They lunged at me, trying to grab and tackle me.

Distance. I needed distance, and they knew it.

They rushed at me recklessly. I managed to strike one down with a blow to his chest and then swung my bat upward, hitting another's chin. However, one of them managed to tackle me, bringing me to the ground. Once on the ground, my fate was sealed. At close range, I wouldn't have the power to strike back. So, I aimed my hands at his face, my fingers plunging into the eyes of the man pinning me down. He screamed loudly, releasing his hold, but by then, others had surrounded me, beating me with their bats and stomping on me.

My arms and legs curled up, protecting my vital parts, trying to shield against the blows now raining on my limbs. Everywhere I looked, there were feet, and I felt so many kicks and bat strikes. I screamed loudly, disregarding the punches and kicks entering my body, grabbing someone's foot and lifting it high, causing him to fall backward. His head smashed into the wall behind him, knocking him out. Elsewhere, my hand shot out, punching someone's groin, making him collapse. I tensed up, ignoring the painful hits on my back. Though I felt the pain, it all faded once I resolved to attack rather than defend. I tried to swing my arms in retaliation, missing several times, only earning more punches. I felt overwhelming pain, anger, and weakness. My hands stopped striking but grabbed someone I didn't recognize.

The last person I'd bring down with all my might.

I lunged at him like a wounded wild boar, knocking him backward, and I sat on his chest, filled with primitive human rage and a desire to kill. I punched his face repeatedly. Several blows from his friends still targeted me, inflicting pain, but I wouldn't let him go. My fists kept assaulting his screaming face, blood pouring from his lips. A sudden hard blow to my head made me wobble. I didn't care, with a bit of focus, I kept pounding him. Blood had been flowing from my head for a while, and I screamed loudly, more like a roar, to motivate myself.

My middle name is "Rage".

---

With all my strength, I continued to attack that man over and over again. My clenched fists kept punching his face multiple times with all my might. In my frenzy, I grabbed a stick that lay next to his head and used it ruthlessly to destroy the man's face. My fists, already covered in blood from hitting him, now glistened bright red, and the bat I held also began to splatter blood around. The man's face was shattered, his nose broken, and his teeth cut off, spewing blood.

Suddenly, the place became silent; no one hit me anymore. Only the sound of my heavy breathing and the bat striking the blood-covered face of the unconscious man was audible. The sound of the bat echoing in the silence was chilling. The man looked just like a corpse, motionless even though I had beaten him. The crowd around me stood silently, perhaps they initially just wanted to mess around, but the choice was to either play with my dead body or for me to play with theirs.

Like now.

They all clearly looked terrified as I stopped hitting and looked at them, blood soaking my body and hands. "Don't move," one of them pulled out his gun and pointed it at me. I stared at the gun.

So, is this where I will end?

Suddenly, I laughed out loud. If my fate was to die here, why should I be afraid? "Don't move," repeated a young man who seemed to be their leader. I approached him, letting the gun remain pointed at me. I could see his hand trembling and fear still evident in his eyes. I walked right in front of him, stumbling a bit, and with my bloody hand, took hold of the gun and pressed it against my forehead.

"Don't move," he repeated. With blood-covered face, I laughed and told him, "I dare you to shoot me." My eyes stared sharply into his, challenging him to shoot me in the forehead.

"Shoot me," I said.

He hesitated for a moment, and I quickly directed the gun's muzzle upwards, and it fired just above my head, deafening me. My leg swiftly kicked his groin, causing him to slump and release the gun into my hand. As my hand held the gun, I quickly shot the man in the knee. This shocked everyone, and I immediately shouted, "Nobody move, or I'll shoot."

Several people at the end of the alley tried to run out, and I immediately shot them in their legs. Two shots and two young men fell to the ground, screaming in pain, blood splattering on the ground. Suddenly, everyone was still. They were all trembling.

"Forgive me," one of them suddenly knelt down and said, "I just followed the crowd, I didn't hit you." And I shot his kneeling thigh twice, making him scream in pain. I remember he was the one who hit me from behind on the motorcycle, mocking and feeling satisfied after managing to hit me.

No one moved. They were all silent.

Some looked as if they had lost their souls. My whole body felt so sore. I had to believe some of my bones might be broken from the multitude of their blows. "You all enjoyed hitting me," I asked, catching my breath, "Now, either choose to hit each other until both of you fall together, or I will shoot you."

Silence.

I then aimed my gun at someone and immediately shot his leg. The young man fell, screaming and crying out for his parents. Right then, everyone started hitting the person next to them, blow after blow, and I knew, fearing I'd shoot, they'd rather faint from being hit by a friend. They should've known that ganging up to beat someone can lead to death, and now they were the victims because they met someone desperate enough to risk their lives against them. Some hit their friends until they bled, others just slapped, and I shot the foot of one who was striking softly.

"You didn't hit properly," I said, now leaning against the alley wall, trying to keep myself upright, not wanting to appear weak lest they dare attack me again. The wall felt cold compared to my body which was burning and throbbing. Right then, they truly started hitting each other for their lives, rather than be shot by me. I saw their bloodied, broken faces and shattered teeth. Until the last person fell covered in blood, I too fell to the ground.

My wounds, my head injury, my broken bones; I wasn't sure if I would survive. Suddenly, I remembered the hardship of leaving my village.

For what?

Why would I die here? Because someone felt aggrieved for being beaten after causing me to lose my Macallan 1946 and forcing me to pay with LXX? Then wanting to take my life.

Is human life that cheap?

I laughed, feeling my tears drop. I saw some people crying, trying to cover the wounds on their legs. I wondered why he was here, covering his injury? Because he wanted to join in beating someone up with his friends and took a stick to chase me. I shouted, "Shut up! If you want to beat someone, be ready to be beaten yourself," and I shot right next to the head of a crying man. His body trembled, and I could see his face turn pale, and his pants looked wet.

Were they scared?

I suddenly laughed chillingly, making everyone even more fearful, and I began shooting again. I kept shooting blindly, making them duck to save their lives; fear had gripped every corner of their souls. Some were screaming chaotically and crying in fear.

It should have been me crying from being beaten, it should have been me scared after all this.

"I will count to ten; you better disappear from my sight and drag all your friends out of this alley before I shoot all of you. One!!!" I yelled, and immediately some people began to move. Those who had been shot struggled to crawl out, dragging their bodies, and those who weren't injured quickly pulled out those who had fainted. By the count of five, they had all left the alley. Leaving me alone, the smell of blood and ammunition filled the alley. As far as I could see, none of them were dead.

Is that a good thing?

I sat, leaning against the wall, exhausted and wanting to sleep. Perhaps my time was also up here, tears welled in the corner of my eyes, and slowly my eyes closed.

***

I might have dozed off for a moment until I felt someone trying to wake me up, carrying me, and without realizing it, I whispered, "Macallan... Macallan…" pointing weakly to where I had placed the box of Macallan. A girl in my blurry vision ran to the spot and shouted, "I found the drink; the drink is fine."

And just like that, I felt relieved and fell asleep.