Technically, leave started tomorrow, so there was just enough time to discreetly check on some things, provided little things didn’t become complicated. Which meant Katherine was just another hoodie and jeans in Westside, hustling through the evening drizzle. The downpour earlier had washed the concrete to a dull brown. While most of Westside’s gangs avoided the wet, the Maniacs loved to cause mayhem in the rain, especially on the weak and unsuspecting.
The stalker had followed her since Oak, then loped ahead at Pine to approach her from the opposite end of Poplar. Shirtless, his skin glowed slick and waxy in the drizzle, the streetlights glinting off of bits of metal in his skin. His spiked hair added to his height and he swung one arm wildly while the other dragged a baseball bat that clanked against the pavement. As he closed, Katrina noticed the barbed wire coiled in tight loops around the bat.
Katherine switched to a balanced stance, light on the balls of her feet. The maniac stops short of walking over her and hovered forcing her to look up into a cheek feel of pins and a grin filled with teeth filed to crooked points. He hissed leaning close enough to sniff at her face, “You smell like meat.”
Katrina wiped at her face. “Christ, I already got a shower in the rain, loony.” She looked him up and down with a bored expression. “I bet all the safety pins and spitting really rattles the norms. Go home.”
“Bitch, this is my home,” the Maniac said, stretching is arms out until they looked ready to split from his shoulders and staggering through a pirouette. “You’re in my playroom!”
From the alley, Kat head a giggle. She sighed. Loonies were the worst when they were their own audience. That was their drill. Lead loony freaks her out, she runs, and the whole pack gives chase. Usually.
Katrina made a show of looking around the rain-drenched buildings. “Love what you did with the place. So, did you hear the joke of the looney who annoyed an ARGENT killer and had his guts spread from the playroom to the kitchen?”
Slow they may be, but even he couldn’t ignore the threat. He wheeled back, slow and menacing. “You’re not--”
Her hand shot up and caught his ear. She pushed her thumbnail up under the lobe and didn’t stop until she’d sunk her thumb up the first knuckle and the looney’s body had gone stiff, her other hand twisted his wrist until the bat hit the ground with a clatter. At the hint of struggle, she dug deeper with her thumb; his groan melted into a whimper as she pulled him downward and stood on her toes to snap her teeth at his ear.
A voice came to Katrina a girls voice, high and breathless-- a girl almost forgotten -- not quite old enough for the smokey dance clubs of Grozny, a voice that whispered through music. “I get the scene -- your best girl’s breaking up with you in front of your mates and you’re trying to look cool. And you think, maybe, just maybe, if you play it smart, she’ll still wear your letter sweater and go with you to the prom. Right?” She snapped her teeth again.
Katrina released his ear, and he staggered back. His hand went to his ear and came back bloody, the bat forgotten. His bewildered glare went from Katrina to the alleyway. The glance was all she needed.
Mint?” Katrina asked to his startled gaze, closer than when he looked away. His eyes followed her glance downward.
Her hand could have held a knife or a gun, positioned slightly below and to the left against his chest. She opened her hand to reveal the small metallic tin. While he wondered when she’d pulled it out, she popped the lid with her thumb, and took out a chalky white lozenge. His blood on her thumb smeared the white tablet pink. She rattled the tin at the looney.
“The rule of mints. If you’re offered, don’t ask why, just take one.” She placed the mint in her mouth, crunching down on it with slow, deliberate pressure in a way Corporal Andres had once asked her to stop because the popping sound made him think of bone.
“Just walk away like I aint no thing,” Katrina murmured with her sweetest smile and a gentle bat of her eyes. “Or I will be that thing, and your friends will have to fuck off without you and find a new stalker.”
The loony arched and loomed over her, but she could see his heart wasn’t in it. He hovered, then wheeled around her, after he snatched the tin away, sauntering down the street, arms swinging wide, whistling ‘Singing in the Rain.’
Katrina picked up the abandoned bat, testing its weight in her hand as she looked into the shadows of the alleyway. It rained harder bouncing into mist off the concrete. “C’mon in,'' she said, “The water’s fine.” She stared hard into the darkness until the shadows emptied.
Only one remained. Not a Maniac, though. Definitely moved like a professional as he flipped down the fire escape to land gracefully on the sidewalk, his rain poncho shivering like a makeshift cape. His moves gave him away -- Iron, one of Hi Pan’s hands. He stood arms akimbo, his namesake sword still sheathed behind his back.
Katrina hefted the bat.
“Did you just out-loony a loony?”
Katrina shrugged. “What do you want, Iron?”
“The Master will honor your presence with his.”
She heard the soft drop from behind. Gold, Iron’s sister, landed lightly on her other side, catching Katrina in a wedge. Gold flipped her poncho aside to reveal her sword and kept her hands free. Katrina switched the bat in her hand. Iron was strong, but Gold was faster and favored the kick-heavy crane style. As Katrina let the rain wash the manaic’s blood off her thumb, Katrina plotted a good, solid swing to Gold’s knee.
“I’m off duty,” Katrina said with an indifferent shrug.
“Soldiers like us are never off duty,” Iron said.
“You’re no solider,” Katrina trained her scowl on both of them.
“We follow orders. We kill the enemy. Soldiers, you and I.”
“I support heroes that save the world. You deal in drugs and hookers.”
“Drugs and battle have been partners since the Opium Wars,” Gold said, “The hashish trade was quite profitable during both Gulf Wars…”
Katrina held up a hand, “I have business to get to. If you are going to attack me, lets get on with it. Just don’t talk me to death.”
To their credit, neither of them rose for the bait, though Golds hand gripped the hilt of her sword. Iron crossed his hands and sighed. “The Master says it is cold and wet, and that warm noodles, hot tea, and company gird the soul for trying times.”
Katrina chuckled, and wondered how badly they fucked up that Hi Pan had them delivering pleasantries when they’d loved nothing more than being feared muscle and making opium deals. As she weighed her options, a suit of power armor screamed through the air, bringing justice to the sky. Sure, she could kick Iron and Gold’s asses, but that would just piss off Hi Pan, and put her own Westside assets at risk. Besides, noodles and tea sounded good and Hi Pan ran the best noodle shop in town.
She gave pair her shallowest bow. “Tell your Master I have business to conclude, but I would be honored to enjoy some tea and noodles at twenty two hundred.”
Iron’s shoulders tensed at Katrina’s order, but Gold had guessed her game, and smirked as she replied with a curt nod. Together, they crouched and leaped up to the fire escape and continued, ignoring the ladders and leaping from platform to platform, and disappear on the roof.
Alone in the rain, Katrina almost tossed the bat away, when another presence screamed into her senses. How could they have gotten so close? She swung the bat behind her, let it freeze directly at her opponent.
“Do us both a favor, asshole, take a moment, and consider your options,” Katrina growled. “See, you could be somewhere dry and warm, scrumping the piece of your choice, or you could start a shitstorm and get your brains bashed in with a bat I haven’t even named yet. Its entirely your choice, and I hope you’re smart and choose to fuck the right off.”
“Lil’ Lady, wish I could. But seems like we’re destined to meet.”
The calm, gravelly voice was foreign. His duster was plastered with and wet, but his hat dripped with something other than the rain, the drops fat and golden, melting into stars. Beneath the brim of his hat, dull red of his eye studied her even as he held his hands --one metal, one flesh -- up in the air.
“Oh fuck,” Katrina said quietly, lowering the bat down to the pavement. Drifter?
The stalker had followed her since Oak, then loped ahead at Pine to approach her from the opposite end of Poplar. Shirtless, his skin glowed slick and waxy in the drizzle, the streetlights glinting off of bits of metal in his skin. His spiked hair added to his height and he swung one arm wildly while the other dragged a baseball bat that clanked against the pavement. As he closed, Katrina noticed the barbed wire coiled in tight loops around the bat.
Katherine switched to a balanced stance, light on the balls of her feet. The maniac stops short of walking over her and hovered forcing her to look up into a cheek feel of pins and a grin filled with teeth filed to crooked points. He hissed leaning close enough to sniff at her face, “You smell like meat.”
Katrina wiped at her face. “Christ, I already got a shower in the rain, loony.” She looked him up and down with a bored expression. “I bet all the safety pins and spitting really rattles the norms. Go home.”
“Bitch, this is my home,” the Maniac said, stretching is arms out until they looked ready to split from his shoulders and staggering through a pirouette. “You’re in my playroom!”
From the alley, Kat head a giggle. She sighed. Loonies were the worst when they were their own audience. That was their drill. Lead loony freaks her out, she runs, and the whole pack gives chase. Usually.
Katrina made a show of looking around the rain-drenched buildings. “Love what you did with the place. So, did you hear the joke of the looney who annoyed an ARGENT killer and had his guts spread from the playroom to the kitchen?”
Slow they may be, but even he couldn’t ignore the threat. He wheeled back, slow and menacing. “You’re not--”
Her hand shot up and caught his ear. She pushed her thumbnail up under the lobe and didn’t stop until she’d sunk her thumb up the first knuckle and the looney’s body had gone stiff, her other hand twisted his wrist until the bat hit the ground with a clatter. At the hint of struggle, she dug deeper with her thumb; his groan melted into a whimper as she pulled him downward and stood on her toes to snap her teeth at his ear.
A voice came to Katrina a girls voice, high and breathless-- a girl almost forgotten -- not quite old enough for the smokey dance clubs of Grozny, a voice that whispered through music. “I get the scene -- your best girl’s breaking up with you in front of your mates and you’re trying to look cool. And you think, maybe, just maybe, if you play it smart, she’ll still wear your letter sweater and go with you to the prom. Right?” She snapped her teeth again.
Katrina released his ear, and he staggered back. His hand went to his ear and came back bloody, the bat forgotten. His bewildered glare went from Katrina to the alleyway. The glance was all she needed.
Mint?” Katrina asked to his startled gaze, closer than when he looked away. His eyes followed her glance downward.
Her hand could have held a knife or a gun, positioned slightly below and to the left against his chest. She opened her hand to reveal the small metallic tin. While he wondered when she’d pulled it out, she popped the lid with her thumb, and took out a chalky white lozenge. His blood on her thumb smeared the white tablet pink. She rattled the tin at the looney.
“The rule of mints. If you’re offered, don’t ask why, just take one.” She placed the mint in her mouth, crunching down on it with slow, deliberate pressure in a way Corporal Andres had once asked her to stop because the popping sound made him think of bone.
“Just walk away like I aint no thing,” Katrina murmured with her sweetest smile and a gentle bat of her eyes. “Or I will be that thing, and your friends will have to fuck off without you and find a new stalker.”
The loony arched and loomed over her, but she could see his heart wasn’t in it. He hovered, then wheeled around her, after he snatched the tin away, sauntering down the street, arms swinging wide, whistling ‘Singing in the Rain.’
Katrina picked up the abandoned bat, testing its weight in her hand as she looked into the shadows of the alleyway. It rained harder bouncing into mist off the concrete. “C’mon in,'' she said, “The water’s fine.” She stared hard into the darkness until the shadows emptied.
Only one remained. Not a Maniac, though. Definitely moved like a professional as he flipped down the fire escape to land gracefully on the sidewalk, his rain poncho shivering like a makeshift cape. His moves gave him away -- Iron, one of Hi Pan’s hands. He stood arms akimbo, his namesake sword still sheathed behind his back.
Katrina hefted the bat.
“Did you just out-loony a loony?”
Katrina shrugged. “What do you want, Iron?”
“The Master will honor your presence with his.”
She heard the soft drop from behind. Gold, Iron’s sister, landed lightly on her other side, catching Katrina in a wedge. Gold flipped her poncho aside to reveal her sword and kept her hands free. Katrina switched the bat in her hand. Iron was strong, but Gold was faster and favored the kick-heavy crane style. As Katrina let the rain wash the manaic’s blood off her thumb, Katrina plotted a good, solid swing to Gold’s knee.
“I’m off duty,” Katrina said with an indifferent shrug.
“Soldiers like us are never off duty,” Iron said.
“You’re no solider,” Katrina trained her scowl on both of them.
“We follow orders. We kill the enemy. Soldiers, you and I.”
“I support heroes that save the world. You deal in drugs and hookers.”
“Drugs and battle have been partners since the Opium Wars,” Gold said, “The hashish trade was quite profitable during both Gulf Wars…”
Katrina held up a hand, “I have business to get to. If you are going to attack me, lets get on with it. Just don’t talk me to death.”
To their credit, neither of them rose for the bait, though Golds hand gripped the hilt of her sword. Iron crossed his hands and sighed. “The Master says it is cold and wet, and that warm noodles, hot tea, and company gird the soul for trying times.”
Katrina chuckled, and wondered how badly they fucked up that Hi Pan had them delivering pleasantries when they’d loved nothing more than being feared muscle and making opium deals. As she weighed her options, a suit of power armor screamed through the air, bringing justice to the sky. Sure, she could kick Iron and Gold’s asses, but that would just piss off Hi Pan, and put her own Westside assets at risk. Besides, noodles and tea sounded good and Hi Pan ran the best noodle shop in town.
She gave pair her shallowest bow. “Tell your Master I have business to conclude, but I would be honored to enjoy some tea and noodles at twenty two hundred.”
Iron’s shoulders tensed at Katrina’s order, but Gold had guessed her game, and smirked as she replied with a curt nod. Together, they crouched and leaped up to the fire escape and continued, ignoring the ladders and leaping from platform to platform, and disappear on the roof.
Alone in the rain, Katrina almost tossed the bat away, when another presence screamed into her senses. How could they have gotten so close? She swung the bat behind her, let it freeze directly at her opponent.
“Do us both a favor, asshole, take a moment, and consider your options,” Katrina growled. “See, you could be somewhere dry and warm, scrumping the piece of your choice, or you could start a shitstorm and get your brains bashed in with a bat I haven’t even named yet. Its entirely your choice, and I hope you’re smart and choose to fuck the right off.”
“Lil’ Lady, wish I could. But seems like we’re destined to meet.”
The calm, gravelly voice was foreign. His duster was plastered with and wet, but his hat dripped with something other than the rain, the drops fat and golden, melting into stars. Beneath the brim of his hat, dull red of his eye studied her even as he held his hands --one metal, one flesh -- up in the air.
“Oh fuck,” Katrina said quietly, lowering the bat down to the pavement. Drifter?
No comments:
Post a Comment
Comment