Alright, so I've mustered all the courage I have, and I stayed up really late yesterday so I'm a bit delirious, therefore, I think I'm ready to write about this!

This all took place in Fayetteville North Carolina, about 4 years ago in the neighborhood known as West Gate.

I was going through a very difficult time in my life, I was in a state of almost constant physical and mental torment, and the only outlet I had besides being a problem child at school was mixed martial arts. I had been taking it for about 4 years by then, and I felt super good about my skills, even arrogant. I wasn't that far from a black belt, just five belts (which is pretty far lol).

I lived in a very nice but relatively new neighborhood, lots of patches of scenic woods (that unfortunately shrank almost daily due to construction) Hoke county was (and still is to the best of my knowledge) in a state of mass development. Quaint little neighborhoods like this were popping up all over the place, and the military personnel attracted by Fort Bragg were just a moving on in.

Unfortunately, us military kids are a messed up little bunch. Either our parents are so rigid we end up robotic order takers, our parents are so distant we end up delinquents (me in the past) or they are so military fanatic we end up little crazy commando kids. Or a super odd combination of all those things

So, with all these military brats in one neighborhood, there's bound to be some issues. There was no shortage of acts of juvenile delinquency. All the way up from vandalism to petty theft. I myself was a delinquent truth be told.

Alright enough with the background-building, here's how it happened.

One Autumn afternoon, a Sunday I believe, me and my friend Austin were walking along side of the main road of our section of the neighborhood. It's called: "Oaks". We kept on until we reached the section of it that was still under construction. It was there that we intended to shoot at each other using nerf guns (with the foam tops of the darts replace with thumb tacs) using the construction site as cover, since the workers were off due to the fact that it was the weekend.

We were just about to unload our guns out of Austin's back pack, when we saw two other kids across the lot, attempting to tip over a Porta Potty. "What a bunch of douche bags", said Austin, as he unzipped his bag, "someone should do something about them." (Austin was one of those "order taker" kids I mentioned above. A goodie goodie so to speak.)

I stared at the kids as they worked. A reckless and rather dumb idea forming in my mind. "Why don't we?" I asked Austin, who after a second's consideration, responded with: "Umm, because they'll kick our ***** if we try to stop them! Or my *** anyway, you might be okay since you take classes. But there's still two of them, so you might still get your *** kicked."

"There's two of us too dude!" I argued. "Plus you've got a nerf gun with needle darts in it. Shoot them in the balls or something if you can't fight!" Austin looked up at me wide eyed, laughing a little bit. "That's kind of a d!ck move don't you think? Shooting them in the balls with a needle." "So is tipping a filled Porta Potty" I said as I began to walk over to where the two kids were gaining head way with the rocking of the outdoor toilet.

"Josh! You're not seriously going to do this are you!" Austin exclaimed as he hastily dropped his bag and jogged a bit to catch up with me, his N-Strike Maverick Nerf blaster still in hand. "Yes, did I sound like I was joking?" I replied.

When we were about 3 yards from the kids, I shouted out to them. "Hey! Leave that thing alone! No one wants to smell that or clean it up!"

The biggest of them looked at me and stopped what he was doing. Light skinned but darker than me, he spoke in heavy slang. "Tyberius! Check these guys man! What the h*ll are you two supposed to be? Da f*ckin cops?" "Haha look at that ones g@y little gun Terence!" Tyberius said, pointing at Austin's gun.

"**** you guys! Leave the dang Porta Potty alone or I'm going to shove my whole foot up your @ss!" I shouted as Austin shuffled nervously. "Dude" he whispered, "I think we should leave." " We've got this" I whispered back " I can take Terrence, he's fat and probably slow, if Tyberius jumps, you empty that gun in him."

"Make me punk!" Terrence said menacingly as he walked towards me. Stopping once he was right in front of me. "B*tch" he spat, his hand out stretching to slap my right cheek.

I didn't give him the chance. I block his hand and and jabbed him swiftly in the nose with my left fist, then back peddled and settled into a fighting stance.

I can't fully describe the feeling I felt at that moment. Pins and needles in my finger tips and toes. My heart pounding and my body thrumming with energy. I felt so chittery. Jumpy. Like I just ate the whole container of sugar. The biggest adrenaline rush I've ever had.

"You little dip****!" Someone yelled, probably Terrance, I can't remember. I was so into the moment. He swung at me fast with his left hand, I parried his fist, guiding it past my body with my left hand, then jamming my right fist in his diaphragm. He gasps audibly, the wind knocked out of him, tackling me, we fall to the ground. He punches me in the jaw hard as my balance is off, it hurt, but it was a dull pain. It hurt more afterwards than during. Before he could fully settle on top of me, I push his bulky body back with my hands then move my legs up to catch him around the neck. I slam him down head first hard on the grass with my legs then roll sideways out from under his lower body.

Before he can get up I kneel down swiftly beside his head, delivering a gravity fueled blow to his cheek with my fist. He looked dazed, so I get up and look around wildly. His friend Tyberius must have been watching, stunned, and had just decided to act in that moment, he tackled me and I fell hard, my head making contact with the unyielding dirt. I put my arms up in front of my face to block his frenzied punches. He stands and begins to kick me hard in my ribs and thighs. I grunt and roll to the side fast, just getting into a crouching position as he runs forward again screaming.

Fump! Fump! Fump! Fump!

I hear that familiar noise as Tyberius screams in pain and grabs at the right side of his face and neck. 4 darts where sticking out of him in those places. I glanced quickly at Austin, who was shaking in anxiety, his N-Strike Maverick pointed out towards Tyberius, it shaking in his grip.


I rushed Tyberius as he was distracted. My arm outstretched, I clothes-lined him hard in the chest. He sprawled backwards, landing on his back.

"Get your friend and get out of here!" Is what I attempted to say, but with my jaw swelling on one side, and my speech a bit impaired due to the adrenaline rushing through me, what came out was something like: "gewwa frein n ge out a her!"

Tyberius got up slowly, his eyes watering, muttering obscenities as he went and coaxed his stunned friend up off the ground, and together they slowly walked away, up the street and out of sight.

Austin turned to look at me, his glasses slightly crooked. "I shot him." He said, a bewildered look in his eye. Despite my aching jaw and the stabbing pain in my side and thigh, I began to laugh. Nervous tension pouring out of me as my heart beat slowly returned to its normal pace. "Yeah man, did you see the look on his face! Hahaha you got him!"

"You're a psychopath you know" Austin remarked as we made or way slowly to his house, me limping slightly. "I shot him!" I said, mocking Austin's earlier amazement at his own deeds under pressure.

We went to his house, my parents where at a military ball and my brother was at a friends house. (Neither of us was supposed to be out). Austin's mom is a nice lady, a nurse, and very trusting. We told her I fell off a beam at the construction site.

" You really should not climb on construction sites you know! Look at those bruises! You're lucky your ribs aren't broken or at least fractured!" She said as she wrapped ice packs over the bruises on my ribs with gauze, I myself was holding one on my jaw, another pack shoved in my pants up against my thigh. The bruises on my arms weren't too bad, the one on my right fist (which she didn't notice, or just didn't say anything about) smarted badly however.

This story is getting long so I'll fast forward. In a nutshell, I decided to keep doing this. I loved the rush and I felt like I was doing good, that I was actually doing something right for a change. It also felt good to vent out some of my inner pain.

A few days later Austin and I were sitting in the garage with my MMA gear. Chest, rib and kidney guard, fore-arm and shin guards, my gloves and my helmet sitting on the floor in front of us. Austin was a gifted tinkerer and artist. He went to Sand Hoke, a gifted high school in the area.

"I want it to look epic." I told him as he sat staring pensively at my gear with his box of art supplies in his hand. "I'll see what I can do, do you have a spare sheet I could cut into strips of fabric?" He asked. "Yeah" I replied. Austin smiled and looked at me, "perfect."

The end result was basically all my gear connected with tubes of black fabric, but they were sewn together pretty nice and fit well. Austin decorated my white and yellow gear with red and black paint. He gave it a kind of tribal pattern. I liked it anyway. I still do. I have that costume in my closet to this day. Maybe I'll post a picture on my profile of it at some point.

For the next few weeks, whenever I went to play or wander in the construction zones (where most of the delinquents went to mess stuff up) I always carried a back pack with my gear in it. Sometimes Austin was with me, sometimes not. He never contributed in my fights again though, if we saw something, I'd suit up behind a house and he'd just kind of hang back. It was fun for a while, to be honest, most times I didn't even have to fight. The idiot vandals I'd approach were usually weirded out by my clothes and just left, and when I did fight, I usually only had to hit them a couple times before they decided the fact that I was wearing protective gear and they weren't made them reconsider fighting me. Eventually the fun started to where off. I didn't sustain any permanent damage, but I did start to get worn down a bit. My right wrist got dislocated when a guy managed to grab and twist it, it's tricky to this day. Another time, a guy threw me up against a beam as I attempted to tackle him, the momentum carried me into it hard, my head whipping back on impact. Ever since then my neck has been a little stiff. My parent were concerned, but I always blamed by injuries on MMA practice.

The turning point to this story, happened a month and a half later.

I was walking in the section of the neighborhood known as: "Holly". Near the back at the construction sites as usual. When I saw two bigger kids spray painting a new house on the side. I ran up to them and yelled something along the lines of "get away from that house d0uche bags! "

They turned to me. One of them laughed, commenting on how stupid I looked. He looked mixed. Maybe a Pacific islander or something. The other one, a white guy, brown hair, tall and kinda slim squinted at me. "You're that jack off that's been going around beating people up huh? A friend told me about you." He said, "What if I am butt munch?" I retorted snidely. "You think you're so big and bad huh? Well I've got something for ya" he sneered and pulled a pocket knife out of his jacket pocket, opening it and waving it menacingly.

"How about this"? He said. "Still wanna fight us punk?"

I was scared ****less. No doubt about it. I had never had a knife pulled on me before. No way was my gear stab proof. I had done a lot of disarming drills in MMA practice, but nothing could have prepared me for the reality of this moment.

"****, what do I do?" I thought myself. I'm so screwed. I'm so screwed!

I didn't want to be labeled a coward, so despite my knotted stomach and weak knees, I crouched a bit into my fighting stance. I tried to intimidate him, I DID NOT want to fight him. But I couldn't let him know that

"I'll stick that damn thing in your eye punk." I said, trying to sound bold.

"Oh, that right kid? Well, let's see about that then!"

He was charging me, the knife drawn back low and his free arm outstretched. I stepped forward fast, hoping he would flinch but ready to spring back if he didn't.

Thank god he did. He faltered and stood there, the knife firm in his hand, he was still in his stance, I looked in his eye. I didn't see that sure look you see in the eyes of a professional. Not the look Mr. Mike had in his eyes when he demonstrated proper dagger strokes and how to avoid them in MMA practice.

"He has no skill. He has no skill. He has no skill." I kept chanting in my head, trying to fight the urge to run.

He lunched, the knife darting out towards my stomach. I side stepped, the blade sliding along the stiff pad covering my belly, chest, sides and back. Leaving a shallow scratch. I grabbed his arm. Panicking. I could have taken the knife from him right there, but I had gloves on and I didn't trust my maneuverability. My mind was racing. I did the easiest thing I could think of.

I kneed him full force in the balls (I'm a punk for that I know, but he was going to kill me, or so I thought. I freaked out) pulling his arm so that his body would move into the force of my strike.

He fell onto his hands and knees, the knife dropped to his side. I kicked it out of the way, far away. He curled up a bit, cradling his privates and gagging, his stomach convulsing.

I heard rapid footsteps behind me.

I instinctively performed a step-into side kick, catching the islander looking guy in his stomach with the bottom of my foot. He doubled over, gasping. I took the opportunity and brought a large arching hook punch to his right ear. He fell to the ground.

I was so scared and pumped and it felt like I was going to explode! I wanted to puke, I wanted to fight, I wanted to run and hide, I wanted to do a freaking cartwheel! I don't know what I wanted to do, I just wanted to do it so hard and fast that I'd catch fire!

I stood there for a minute with my head in a swivel. Not knowing what to do. One guy on the ground vomiting, holding his balls , the other gasping a bit. Finally I walked over to the can of spray paint, picked it up and threw it in a nearby drainage slot thing. (Those slits in the side of the road for when it rains? Idk what they're really called)

Suddenly I heard a distant siren. My heart began to race again. "Holy ****!" I yelled out loud.

I turned around and ran into one of those miscellaneous patches of woods that bedazzled West Gate.

I just ran. I ran and ran and didn't stop for anything. I had an idea as to where I was going. I estimated I'd come out of the small patch of woods somewhere near the community center and then all I'd have to so is cross the street into a smaller patch of woods that trailed back to my house. Boy was I booking it. Adrenaline is a *****. I had no idea I could haul *** that fast for that long!

I'll fast forward to the end now. If you read this far. Congratulations. Free T-shirts in the gift shop. " I survived this story". Lol.


Turns out, a woman saw the boys vandalizing the house from her window across the street and phoned the cops. They were on their way before i saw those kids and were just arriving when i finished them. The two boys were too young to be tried as adults, so no charges for vandalism. But I think their parents had to pay a fine.

Bulletins were put in every mailbox warning against vigilante justice. With a list of all kinds of charges and fines that could come of it. No one went looking for the "vigilante" though. I guess I got off with a warning then lol.

Ever since that day, a cop car patrolled every section of West Gate three times a day every day to look out for vandals, and the cases of vandalism became almost non existent. So I didn't feel too bad about never ever dressing up in my modified gear again and fighting vandals and punks.

I can't honestly say I would have kept doing it if the patrols hadn't started. When I got home that day I threw up twice and had "the runs" for about two days. I was a wreck.


All in all. What a life experience. It was incredibly stupid of me to do such a thing. I'll never do it again. But I'm kind of proud I did. Not many can say they were a vigilante. I don't recommend it to anyone under any circumstance. It's dangerous and stupid. Very stupid.

So there it is ladies and gentlemen. My story of what a slightly neglected and abused child can get up to in his spare time XD. Thanks for reading.
Contentio Contentio
18-21, M
2 Responses Aug 29, 2014

Lol left me hanging. Nice story and you seem to have a knack for writing.

Got me curious O.o

Haha sorry to tease you like that, I'll work up the courage to write it here one day I promise. It's really embarrassing 😳

Works for me :)