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The Secret Society of Hit Men
By The Hit Man

It was a normal day at the beach as Mark Schenkenberg, super model from Switzerland, skated along, nary a care in the world. The beautiful people of the world were all around him on the boardwalk each paying only as much homage to the others as necessary to ensure they were seen by the right people, with the right people, and for the right people. As Marc skated along, he heard an odd noise coming from a nearby alley. He turned his head a little to take a listen.

Marc Schenkenberg

The noise was coming from an area a little back off the beaten path and though commonsense dictated caution, Marc skated on back. The noise he heard sounded like a fight and Marc was always one to like to watch a good fight.

As he came around the back corner of a building, two young men, not more than in their late teens were in a bit of a scuffle.


Jim(see BeachBoy 93-97) Chris

They were both of moderate builds, certainly not the Adonis model that Marc was, but not in bad shape either. They seemed to be fairly evenly matched. Marc stood watching for a few moments as they punched each other, neither really seeming to do much damage. In fact, Marc began to suspect the grunting and groaning sounds were more show than actual fight oriented suffering. He was just getting ready to leave when a third young man stepped out from the building, positioning himself behind Marc.



This boy, of approximately the same age as the other two, was definitely the more muscular of the three, his arms and chest more developed, his ab's hard and ridged, and his legs had obviously been worked on extremely hard to have the definition and shape they did. From all appearances, he was just another passerby who, like Marc, had heard the sounds and was simply investigating for curiosity's sake. That was Marc's hope at least. The next few seconds shattered his hope.

"Take him," the third stranger called out. Suddenly, the two young men who only a second earlier had been so tied up in fighting each other were charging at him. The one in the blue shorts reached him first. As he dove in, preparing to tackle Marc, Marc simply used the mobility of his skates, the kids' hair, and a boot in the rear to send him flying. But in that moment, the one in the skimpy grey shorts reached him. A balled fist slammed into Marc's kidney, sending tendrils of pain in every direction. Marc brought his elbow back and up, catching the young man on the chin. His move was accentuated by the sound of teeth slamming together. The boy in blue was up again, approaching much more cautiously this time. He swung at Marc but met nothing but air as Marc continued to use the increased mobility his skates afforded him. A second swing also missed but this time Marc stepped in and slammed a fist into the kids' gut. WHOMP! It was a solid blow, easily driving out air and resolve at the same time. Marc was getting ready to punch him again when the boy in the short gray's attacked with a vengeance. His fists were flying, pummeling Marc from every direction, only they didn't carry any wallop. This kid doesn't even know how to fight, Marc thought, as he delivered a stiff uppercut to the kids' jaw, driving him back, his eyes starting to cloud over a little. Marc was ready to finish him off when someone grabbed him from behind. It could only be the stranger who had a given the orders. Strong arms slipped under Marc's, fingers interlocking behind his neck. Only the extra height of his skates kept Marc's neck from being forced down. But regardless, he was locked up tight in a full nelson. Blue boy, intent on paying back the earlier blow to his own gut, charged in low, ramming his head directly into Marc's muscled ab's. Had Marc been caught unaware, the blow would undoubtedly have doubled him over. However, his abdominal muscles tightened, the kid probably gave himself more of a headache than cause Marc more than slight discomfort. In fact, blue boy ended up flat on his ass.

Now it was gray boy's turn once again. He slammed a fist directly into Marc's groin. No matter how steeled he might have been, the blow was devastating and Marc fought to keep the gorge down. Seeing the success that this course of action had resulted in, the boy tried to kick Marc in the groin but Marc hugged his legs together, preventing the second blow from making contact. The kid punched Marc in the gut. His punch wasn't so strong but it hurt nonetheless. Blue boy stepped up to his side and the two began to shower Marc's torso with hits. Suddenly finding it all oh so funny, Marc began to laugh. Not just a twitter, but a heart felt out and out right laugh. The sound pulled the two up, their arms dropping at their sides. Marc took advantage of the lull, brought his feet up right into their chests and bowled them over, including the one who held him. They crashed to the ground and the hold on Marc's neck was lost. Marc could hear the boy underneath trying to suck in air. He had obviously had the wind knocked out of him.

"Can you three do nothing right?" The voice came out of nowhere. Marc was struggling to get up while cranking his neck to find the body that went with the voice. His eyes settled on the upside down view of a slightly older man. Not only older, but much more athletically built, especially his legs.



Before Marc could even think about escape, the man stepped up and caught Marc's head between his muscular legs. The man fell back to the ground, looping one leg over the other, catching Marc in a figure 4.

"Must I do everything," the man exclaimed. Marc could feel the muscles bunch around his neck as the man executed his hold to perfection. A knot as hard as steel crushed in against his neck. Oh so quickly Marc felt himself sinking into utter blackness. His last thought was of the magnificence of the brute force of the legs that held him.