Beyond the Rage Read Online Free PDF

car? A similar incident while out walking would barely merit a look, but a car engine purring in front of some people was enough for them to act as if you had just threatened to rape their kids.
    Kenny jumped on the brake. A squeal of tyres sounded from the other car as the driver fought to avoid a collision. Then Kenny pushed down on the accelerator and surged away. Within seconds the other car was back on his tail and through the mirror Kenny could see that the driver’s face was contorted with fury, as he screamed a challenge at him. The passenger on the other hand, was sitting with his arms crossed, looking decidedly uncomfortable. They were young, but not so young that he couldn’t deal them a lesson. The driver: shaved head, square face; he would have guessed early twenties. Kenny shifted the mirror to get a quick look at his passenger. From what he could see, he had some height on the driver and a couple of years. He had blonde hair, cut army-short and was a finer featured version of the other. Brothers or perhaps cousins?
    He turned left at the next junction. Pulled to a stop and stepped out of the car. He was more than happy to see how this was going to play out. Two of them, against one of him. Just the odds he needed.
    Kenny could see now that the other car was a Golf. It screamed to a halt behind his car and the two guys stepped out. Straight away he could see that they were gym bunnies. Despite the fact it was a cold night in March they were both wearing T-shirts. Tight enough to show off the heft of their muscle. A muscle that was earned, no doubt, while posing in front of a full-length mirror for hours and hours. A muscle that would give them a false sense of security when they teamed up against a solitary man.
    Oh well, thought Kenny, their funeral.
    ‘You got a death wish, mate?’ the driver asked as he stomped towards him. He was just under six feet, all shoulders, pecs and biceps. Working out to a pattern that would show best when he was wearing T-shirt and jeans. His thighs nowhere as developed as the top half of his body.
    ‘C’mon, Mark,’ the passenger said, ‘we don’t want any trouble.’ He was looking over Kenny, appraising him. Smart, thought Kenny while he in turn checked him out. He would be more of a challenge than his buddy. Just over six feet, he was leaner and more in proportion and he walked with a grace that suggested a more rounded fitness regime. If Kenny didn’t take him out first, this might get interesting. Perhaps too interesting. The tall one would have to go first.
    ‘What the fuck you playin’ at, mate?’ The driver was working himself up to the necessary pitch before he waded in to mete out some punishment. ‘We’re going to fuck you up so bad, you’ll be eating through a straw for months.’
    ‘Mark,’ the passenger said, ‘enough. Let’s go.’
    ‘I’m going to have you, mate,’ Mark said. ‘And my brother here is going to wade in and kick your arse because that’s what brothers do.’ He turned to face his brother. ‘They help each other. Now get some steel, bro, and help me waste this wanker.’
    Kenny simply stood before them, arms loose by his side, feet shoulder-width apart, saying nothing. Giving them nothing back. The man who doubts is the man who loses, his old fight teacher once told him. Sow some doubt and the first battle is won.
    ‘What, can you no fuckin’ speak, ya poof?’ Mark said.
    ‘Aye, probably been up at some gay bar getting pumped in the toilet, ya fanny,’ his brother joined in, half-heartedly. This guy clearly didn’t want to be here, but judging by the way he was still moving nearer Kenny and by the way he was working his hands, he would do what was necessary to help his brother.
    Fine by me, thought Kenny. Still saying nothing. He looked over their shoulders at the junction. As he expected, there were a couple of CCTV cameras trained down the main road. Whoever was operating them hadn’t yet thought to check on this side