NBA Dramatique: Street-Fighting Man

Life with the 7th Second Chance was maddening. War was hard enough with your enemies out to get you; having to fight on a second front within your own ranks was a disheartening struggle. Things had started out so well when D'Antoni rolled up 7th with his jet packs and sales pitch. They won a few battles, then they lost a few. Then they lost a few more. Unexpectedly, the 7th Avenue landlords decided to issue some evictions - to make room for future improvements, they said - and some good guys were forced to move away. Those guys had been helping them win fights, and the only change that the landlords were likely to get was that a few bums would have a new home. The jet packs had suffered some casualties of their own and were not fully functional at the moment. On top of everything else, the Clown had let his feud with D'Antoni escalate to a miserable degree and everyone in the gang was feeling the stress.

David had tolerated the madness for a couple of years. He tried to tune it out. He would go to the weights and sweat out his frustration. He practiced his marksmanship, and his draw time, and his protections, and did so alone when the rest of the guys wanted to fight one another like school children.

David decided to go for a run through the city streets. Though he might be surrounded by people as he ran, he knew that none of those people would be the other Second-Chancers, and that relieved him. He put on some earphones, broke into a running pace as soon as he was on the sidewalk, and had cleared several blocks before the first song had finished playing. The air was cold. The sky was gray. David's breath formed clouds in the air as he exhaled, which gave him the appearance of a steam locomotive powering down the street. The longer he ran, the further he moved from the public congestion. He passed by a constantly diminishing number of people until he found himself running in a network of empty alleys and loading areas. There was a way, he knew, to use these alleys exclusively to make his way back to 7th Avenue and avoid people all together, so once he exhausted his energy, he slowed to a walk and went in that direction. Besides, it had started raining.

David gazed down at his shoes and pulled the hood of his sweatshirt over his head. Puddles were forming, and David noticed by the reflection of lights in their surface that the sky had grown dark. Though he was a large man, and certainly not one to back down from a fight, the realization that he was isolated put David on edge.

His instincts were correct.

Metal scraped against metal and cement. A large steel plate was flipped over and created a harsh echo against the tall buildings. David watched a large arm rise out of the hole once covered by the steel plate and then pull its enormous owner onto the street. The figure was impossibly large. The rain bounced off of his skin and created an artificial aura against the street lights. He stood tall and wide, and David watched a dozen other figures emerge from the hole. Then he knew.

The Underground.

David momentarily lunged forward, then, realizing how badly he was outnumbered, stepped back. He was not one to run, but unarmed and alone he would not defeat this foe. He quickly cut to his left and ran top speed down the alley, mentally mapping the twisting route back home. He heard the fast and heavy feet of the Underground fighters slapping the concrete as they gave chase. Although his earphones were still in, the sound of blood pumping hard in his ears drowned out the music. David ran until he thought his lungs were going to tear open. He was within four blocks of home when he began shouting out the names of the other Second-Chancers, hoping to draw them out. He was out of breath. A hand grasped at his head and pulled the hood back. David braced for the blows that he was sure were going to begin landing on his face and body. An explosive roar. A blast of heat. A flash of fire. All of these things at once as something flew just above his head and collided with his assailant. Then, a chorus of like roars erupting behind him as the 7th Second Chance entered the battle against the Underground to protect 7th Avenue.

David saw Duhon standing and brushing himself off. He was the one who flew over David's head, and he stood now over the hulking beast that initially crawled out of the street. David thought that the big guy might have done him some damage if he had gotten the chance, but thankfully he was taken out of the fight before he got the chance.

"I damaged this pack, too!" Duhon shouted over to David. "It's not going to be any use at this point."

"Drop it." said David. "Let's do what we can on the ground."

The two fashioned weapons out of broken pieces of jet pack and joined the fray.

David noticed that the roar of jet packs had fast fallen silent. He and Duhon stepped into the crowd of Underground fighters and hit them with hunks of metal. David swung and landed punches. At times he was back-to-back with Duhon as they swung fists and connected with chins. More of the Second-Chancers were entering the battle, which had rapidly devolved to a low-tech street rumble. He took elbows in the mouth and across the top of his head. His stomach was compressed by Underground slugs. The feet that he had earlier heard chasing him now made their impression in his back. David never gave up. He still was beaten.

The Underground stole any equipment they could from the unconscious bodies on 7th Avenue, then retreated through the manhole covers. Dazzlin' D'Antoni watched them go and paced the Avenue, softly kicking his troops in the ribs to re-awaken them.

The Clown sat on the curb on the far side of the street, watching, laughing loudly and with malice at the defeated salesman.