Skyfall Kick

Section 1: At Local Alley

The reporter hurried toward Local Alley, her long black hair bouncing behind her. She wore a fitted blazer over a white blouse, and with every hurried step, her breasts bounced with the momentum like two restless little rabbits.

“Come on, slackers! Hurry up!”

The three crew members struggled behind her, carrying the heavy camera and other equipment.

The reporter reached Local Alley first and looked inside.

Canelo stood beside a utility pole and zipped up his pants. He lit a cigarette, dropped into a deep Asian squat beside the pole, and took a long drag, still slightly unsettled by what had happened at Sakura Spa.

The reporter walked straight toward him, holding out her microphone.

“Mr. Canelo? We’re doing a special program about you. Could we ask you a few questions?”

Canelo didn’t even look up.

“Get lost.”

“Just one question. It’ll only take a minute. We just want to ask about—”

Canelo finally looked at her.

“I said get lost. If you don’t walk away right now, I’m gonna break your kneecap.”

The reporter flinched and froze, but a few seconds later, she decided to push again.

“Sir, if we could just—”

The reporter boldly took a few steps closer.

By then, the three crew members had finally caught up. They immediately rushed in—one grabbed her arm, another grabbed her blazer, while the third, seizing the opportunity, grabbed one of her breasts and gave it a quick squeeze.

Together, they dragged her back.

“Hey! Let go of me!”

The reporter struggled against them, still holding her microphone toward Canelo. She never even noticed the third man’s sneaky little move.

Section 2: Master Lee Arrives

The crew finally managed to pull the reporter away. She soon calmed down and stopped struggling.

One of them checked the time.

“Where the hell is Master Lee Kumkee? He was supposed to be here at four. It’s already 4:20!”

By then, Canelo had finished his cigarette. He dropped it to the ground, stood up, ground it out under his shoe, and started walking away.

Just then, a stocky middle-aged man appeared at the entrance to Local Alley. He wore a white martial-arts uniform with a black belt, and his thick, muscular build made him look like someone who had spent years training.

It was Master Lee Kumkee, the owner of a local dojo.

The reporter and her crew immediately rushed toward him.

“What the hell took you so long?”

Master Lee calmly adjusted his black belt, a sleazy grin spreading across his face.

“I stopped by Sakura Spa. Amy and Coco took excellent care of me.”

The reporter stared at him.

“What?! You went to Sakura Spa at a time like this? Do you know how important this interview is? We need you to fight him!”

Master Lee nodded seriously.

“A true martial artist must satisfy both the body and the mind. Only then can I perform at one hundred percent of my true power.”

The reporter was momentarily stunned. Then she sighed and waved him on.

“Whatever. Just do your thing.”

Master Lee stepped into the alley and immediately launched into a flashy display of martial arts. Punches, kicks, blocks, and elaborate techniques flowed one after another before he finally finished in a dramatic fighting stance.

Then he looked up.

Canelo was already far down the alley.

“Hey! You can’t just walk away like that!”

Master Lee sprinted after him. After a few quick steps, he planted one foot against the ground and launched himself high into the air.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

He completed a perfect triple flip over Canelo’s head and landed gracefully right in front of him.

It was absolutely spectacular, and yet it was also completely unnecessary.

Canelo stopped.

Master Lee slowly straightened, then raised one arm across Canelo’s path, staring deep into Canelo’s eyes.

“I’m afraid… you’re not going anywhere.”

Section 3: The Fight Begins

Canelo stared at him.

“Look, I—”

“Wait!”

Master Lee suddenly raised one hand. He walked to the side of the alley and picked up a brick.

Then another.

Then a third.

He carried all three back and carefully stacked them on top of one another.

Canelo watched him. So did the reporter and her crew.

Nobody said anything.

Master Lee stepped back from the bricks. His expression hardened as he raised one hand high above his head.

“HAAAAI—YAH!”

His hand came down like a blade.

CRACK!

All three bricks split apart, broken pieces dropping onto the pavement.

Master Lee slowly straightened and turned toward Canelo with a proud smile.

“You see?” He pointed at the shattered bricks. “That’s the power of karate.”

Canelo looked at the bricks, then simply walked around him and kept going.

Master Lee’s smile disappeared.

“Wait! Get back here!”

He rushed after Canelo and grabbed him by the shoulder.

“I’m not finished with you yet!”

Canelo stopped and looked back at the hand on his shoulder.

Master Lee immediately pulled it away and dropped into a fighting stance.

“Now fight me!”

He lunged forward with a punch.

Canelo leaned aside and let it miss, then swept one foot across Master Lee’s legs.

WHAM!

Master Lee crashed onto his back.

Canelo casually pulled out his phone and checked the time.

4:25 PM.

He slipped it back into his pocket.

Master Lee quickly rolled over, sprang back to his feet, and immediately launched into another flashy martial-arts display, throwing rapid punches and kicks at the empty air in front of Canelo.

Canelo stood there and watched him for about three seconds.

“Yo, what the fuck you doin’? Swingin’ at air and shit? You tryna put on a show or somethin’? What are you, a circus clown?”

Then he stepped forward.

SLAP!

Master Lee’s head snapped sideways.

SLAP!

His head snapped back the other way, followed by a hard kick deep into his stomach.

BRAAAAAAAP!

A long fart escaped from Master Lee as he stumbled backward, clutching his gut. He glared up at Canelo and shot the mockery right back at him.

“What kind of fighting is that? No form! No discipline! No technique! What are you, some street thug?”

Canelo grabbed him by the hair and drove a knee into his face.

BAM!

Master Lee staggered backward, clutching his nose.

“Stop! Fight like a true martial artist!”

Canelo frowned.

“What do you mean? I AM a thug.”

Master Lee clenched his teeth and attacked again.

Over the next few exchanges, he tried everything he knew—punches, kicks, blocks, and carefully practiced combinations. None of it made much difference. Each time he rushed in, Canelo knocked him right back.

Before long, Master Lee was bruised and bleeding.

Canelo still hadn’t taken a single hit.

He pulled out his phone again.

4:30 PM.

Canelo frowned slightly, then put it away.

The reporter watched from the side, growing increasingly worried. At this rate, they were never going to see the Skyfall Kick.

She had to give him a little more motivation.

“Master Lee! Beat him, and we’ll double your appearance fee to four hundred dollars!”

Master Lee’s eyes lit up with excitement.

“Hell yeah! Four hundred freaking dollars!”

Suddenly, something changed.

Master Lee slowly straightened. His fists tightened, and a powerful martial-artist aura seemed to rise around him.

A confident smile spread across his face.

“All right. Playtime is over. Time to get serious.”

Section 4: The Fight Intensifies

Master Lee spotted a mop leaning against the wall. He grabbed it and kicked off the mop head, leaving only the wooden handle.

He began spinning it wildly, the staff whipping through the air in a blur.

SWISH!

The wind sliced one wing clean off a passing butterfly. The butterfly and its severed wing spiraled separately to the ground.

SWISH!

A nearby garbage bag split open, spilling trash and unidentified greasy liquid all over the pavement.

Master Lee finished with one final hard swing.

SWIIIIISH!

Ten meters away, the wind sliced through the drawstring of an old woman’s pants. Her pants dropped to her knees, revealing an adult diaper.

Master Lee lowered the staff and struck a proud fighting pose.

The reporter’s confidence immediately skyrocketed.

“I still don’t think he has what it takes to beat Canelo… but with that staff, he might actually force him to use the Skyfall Kick.”

Master Lee charged forward and swung the staff hard at Canelo’s waist. Canelo caught it with both hands, his arms jolting from the impact. He tightened his grip, planted his feet, and yanked the staff toward himself before driving his knee straight into the middle.

CRACK!

The staff snapped in half.

The reporter’s eyes bulged and her jaw dropped.

“IT CAN’T BE!”

Behind her, the crew groaned in despair, some covering their faces and others dropping to their knees.

“Oh, shit. We’re screwed.”

Canelo tossed the broken pieces aside and looked at Master Lee.

“Move now and I’ll still spare your life. I got something important to do.”

He pointed south, in the direction of Sakura Spa.

“I got a five o’clock appointment with Amy and Coco.”

The reporter and her crew stared at him, their jaws dropping all at once.

“WHAAAAAT?!”

The reporter threw up her hands.

“You’ve been checking the time this whole time just to go to Sakura Spa?! I thought it was something actually important!”

Canelo answered, his tone completely serious and solemn.

“Yo, prostitution might not be important to you women. But to a man? Hell yeah, that’s important.”

Master Lee’s eyes suddenly lit up, and a sleazy grin spread across his face. He rushed in front of Canelo.

“Wait! Amy and Coco? Oh! I just saw them before I came here!”

He leaned closer excitedly.

“You gotta try their Two Girls, One Cop package. It’s an RPG. They play the roles, and you be the cop. Trust me. Best package ever. Way beyond your wildest imagination.”

Canelo gave him a serious nod.

“Recommendation accepted.”

Then he pointed down the alley.

“Now move.”

Master Lee’s sleazy grin disappeared. He stepped directly into Canelo’s path.

“I’m afraid that you are still not going anywhere.”

Canelo blinked, clearly caught off guard.

Master Lee raised his chin.

“I got four hundred dollars to collect.”

Section 5: Skyfall Kick

Canelo’s patience was running thin. He pulled out his phone and checked the time.

4:40 PM.

“Shit. I’m runnin’ outta time.”

He shoved the phone back into his pocket and looked at Master Lee.

“Last chance. Get outta my way.”

Master Lee planted his feet and raised his fists.

“Not until you get past me.”

Without a word, Canelo took one step backward.

Then another.

And another.

The reporter and her crew exchanged confused looks.

“What is he doing?”

After putting a considerable distance between himself and Master Lee, Canelo stopped and immediately lowered his body into a sprinter’s stance.

Then—

He exploded forward.

THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD!

His shoes hammered against the pavement as he accelerated down the alley.

He planted one final step hard into the ground.

CRACK!

The pavement cracked beneath his foot as he launched himself high into the air.

The reporter looked up, her eyes lighting up.

“Wait… could that be?”

Canelo shot two meters into the air in a single leap. And he kept rising…

all the way to three meters.

At the peak, his body tilted forward at a forty-five-degree angle as his right leg extended perfectly straight.

Then gravity took over, sending Canelo plummeting toward the ground.

WHOOOOOOSH!

He accelerated rapidly as the air screamed around him. Tiny sparks flickered around the tip of his shoe, quickly forming a trail of light.

A triumphant grin spread across the reporter’s face.

“Behold… the long-awaited Skyfall Kick!”

She spun toward the cameraman.

“Get this! Get everything!”

The camera was already locked on Canelo in midair, its red recording light glowing.

Master Lee planted his feet firmly on the pavement.

“HAAAA!”

He crossed both forearms in front of his chest and braced himself for impact.

Canelo came down like a bolt of lightning, his kick smashing straight into Master Lee’s crossed arms in an instant.

BOOOOOOM!

Both of Master Lee’s forearms broke under the impact.

Master Lee screamed.

“AAAAARGH!”

But the Skyfall Kick didn’t stop there. His broken guard collapsed inward, and Canelo’s foot drove straight through it into his chest.

BAM!

His ribs snapped one after another like a string of firecrackers.

“GAAAAAAAAAH!”

The impact blasted Master Lee off his feet and sent him flying backward.

Five feet.

Ten.

Fifteen—

CRASH!

He disappeared into a pile of garbage bags at the side of the alley. Bags burst open, cardboard boxes collapsed, and a metal trash can toppled over and rolled across the pavement.

The force of the impact kicked Canelo back into the air. He flipped once and landed smoothly on his feet.

Silence.

The cameraman slowly lowered the camera and let out a long sigh of relief.

“Finally… now we got it. The whole thing.”

The reporter broke into a satisfied smile.

By then, Canelo had already turned and was walking away.

One of the crew members pointed after him.

“Canelo’s leaving.”

The reporter waved it off.

“Let him go. We got what we came for.”

Section 6: Aftermath

The pile of garbage suddenly rustled.

Everyone turned.

Master Lee slowly climbed out, bruised and covered in trash. Both broken arms hung uselessly at his sides, and part of his chest had visibly caved in.

The reporter and her crew hurried over.

“Master Lee! Are you okay?”

Master Lee spat a mouthful of blood onto the pavement.

“I’m perfectly fine,” he replied in a surprisingly strong voice, as if nothing had happened.

Then he looked at the reporter.

“Now… about my four hundred dollars.”

The reporter blinked.

“Oh! Right.”

She pulled out the cash and held it toward him, only to pause when Master Lee looked down at his two broken arms dangling uselessly at his sides. She quietly stuffed the money into his pocket.

The reporter pointed toward the end of the alley.

“There’s a hospital right around the corner. It’s less than fifty meters away. You should get checked out.”

Master Lee shook his head.

“Nah.”

The reporter stared at him.

“Master Lee, both your arms are broken! Your chest is caved in, and God knows how many ribs you broke!”

He glanced down at himself.

“Small injury. I’ll just go home and put some dit da on it.”

The reporter stared at him in disbelief.

“Dit da?!”

“Nothing serious,” Master Lee said casually before coughing up another mouthful of blood onto the pavement.

“Anyway, I need to pick up some soy sauce on my way home before the supermarket closes.”

Master Lee turned and started walking away, his broken arms swinging loosely at his sides with every step.

The reporter and her crew watched him go.

One of the crew members finally shook his head.

“Damn. Master Lee is one tough son of a bitch.”

The reporter nodded.

“A true martial arts master.”

Section 7: Evening News

The next evening, the reporter sat behind the news desk for the Flushing City Evening News.

She looked into the camera with a solemn expression.

“In local news, martial arts master Lee Kumkee passed away earlier today from multiple fractures and internal bleeding after declining immediate medical treatment.”

She paused for a moment.

“And now, tomorrow’s weather.”