by Baron Sord
One of the thugs in back laughed, “You ever see anybody so scared?”
“Guy is shitting his pants,” the other said.
“I think I see tears,” the first thug said.
Rhino chuckled, “You gonna cry now, Sparky?”
Grinning with delicious menace, I glared at Rhino and grumbled, “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“Oh yeah?” Rhino smiled. “You gonna do something about it, Sparky? Take that flag off and show us your pencil dick?”
His two cronies immediately fanned out around me like wolves or velociraptors engaged in a pack hunt.
Did no one tell them the killer (meaning them) could be killed?
That was my rage talking.
My rational brain said I was going to get jumped from three directions at once. This was terrible odds. And the flag around my waist wasn’t even knotted properly.
Worse, I didn’t know how to fight. Not really. Not even with one person at a time. Sure, I did LARP (Live Action Role-Playing) fighting. I had a passing acquaintance with how to punch a heavy bag without breaking my hands. I could generally wrestle and vaguely apply a few basic submission holds.
But I was well aware that bashing your friends with foam covered weapons while laughing your asses off or rough-house wrestling was not real fighting.
Not even close.
On the street, it was kill or be killed.
When it was three on one, you certainly couldn’t wrestle or apply any submission holds. You had two choices: stand and start punching, or run.
We had already determined I wasn’t running.
Rhino said, “Show me what you got, son.” His big arms coiled as he slipped and slid smoothly from side to side. This man had spent plenty of time in a boxing ring. His movements were too fluid to be anything otherwise.
I curled my fingers into fists.
This was unwise.
People who boxed without gloves, with men much bigger than them, could actually be killed from being hit too hard in the head.
I grit my teeth and hissed, “Say your fucking prayers, douche bag.”
“Oh ho ho!” Rhino laughed. “You fellas hear that? Pencil Dick told me to say my prayers!”
Laughter from the two other men.
Rhino chuckled, “Haven’t you heard, Pencil Dick? I don’t go to church.” He grunted as he stepped in and threw a fist at me the size of a 15 pound medicine ball.
It sailed toward my face at nearly super-sonic speed, and yet, I saw it in slow motion.
Somehow, I twisted my torso and his fist breezed past my nose. Then I tagged him in the ear with a quick jab.
Rhino recoiled and backed up, shaking it off with a laugh, “Can you believe it? Pencil Neck maybe knows how to fight! Maybe!” His smooth movements increased in intensity, but they were no less smooth as he bobbed and weaved, inching toward me with restrained fury.
Smirking behind my loosely clenched fists, I gloated, “Which is it? Pencil Neck, or Pencil D—ulp!”
I had to stop gloating and dodge because Rhino launched a missile of a left at my temple.
Again, it seemed sluggish.
He couldn’t be slowing down already. Not after two punches. But I got out of the way. It was like my reflexes had improved or I was processing visual information faster than ever before. Or maybe that green beam had downloaded kung fu into my brain like Keanu Reeves in The Matrix.
Time to put my kung fu to use.
I shot a sloppy left-right combo at Rhino’s head and missed with both as he twitched away and came back with a heavy right of his own.
WHAM!
He connected with my forehead and my skull snapped back with a crack.
One of the other thugs behind me plunged a smashing fist into my kidney and I winced in surprise. The other kicked out the backs of my legs and I went down on my knees. A boot hit me in the back and I flew forward—
KOOM!
—face first into Rhino’s uplifted knee.
My head whirled and I spun in the air before slapping onto the ground hard, landing on my chest.
I groaned.
Okay, maybe I hadn’t gotten that kung fu download. This wasn’t going to be as easy as I had hoped. But I wasn’t giving up now.
I pushed myself up on all fours. Saw that my flag skirt lay next to me. I was as naked as a caveman. Maybe I could fight like one too.
“You ready for another lesson, britches?” Rhino asked.
“Just getting started,” I grunted.
“You sure you don’t want to sit this one out?”
“You kidding?” I glared at him, still on all fours.
Bash!
One of the other thugs kicked me in the ribs on my blind side. Hit me so hard it lifted me off my hands and knees. I fell onto my side and rolled, clutching my ribs where I’d been hit.
The thug who had kicked me cackled, “You gonna wish you never got outta bed this morning, Pencils.” He kicked hard at my chest.
I rolled away.
“Where you going, Pencils?” the kicker taunted as he came at me, stomping the ground repeatedly. “I’m gonna stomp your dick off!”
Being that I was naked, getting “beheaded” by his boot was a real possibility. I kept rolling until I bumped into the tire of the car behind me.
“No place to go now, Pencils!” Pencil Kicker laughed as he wound up his leg to punt my face over the car and the cinderblock wall behind it.
All I could think to do was throw up my elbow.
CRACK!
“Mother fucker!” Pencil Kicker shouted and went hopping away on one foot.
He must’ve hit my elbow in just the right place with his shin, because I didn’t feel a thing. I pushed myself up against the side of the car and—
FOOM!
Rhino landed a hammer in my gut.
I gasped and slumped forward and stuck my tongue out.
He smashed a fist into my chin from below, knocking my jaw closed.
There was no way I hadn’t bitten my tongue off. I expected to see it twitching on the asphalt as blood poured out of my mouth.
When Rhino wound up to punch again, I jumped up and slipped away.
Looked for my tongue.
Didn’t see it.
Waggled it in my mouth.
It was right where it belonged. A little sore and throbbing, but nothing that wouldn’t fade in a few hours. I was getting the distinct impression these guys could hit me as hard as they wanted and it wouldn’t seriously hurt me.
Grinning, I said, “You ready to start praying?”
“Heh heh heh,” Rhino chuckled, now sweating from the effort. “I told you, britches. I don’t go to church.” He feinted and lunged, shooting a fist toward my head.
I saw it coming and spun out of the way. Continued my spin and threw a hard hooking left that landed against his exposed temple, right behind his eye.
His head whipped sideways and he went stumbling with it. He wobbled and almost tripped up and fell, but he kept his feet under him.
Meanwhile, Pencil Kicker was limping away, trying to put weight on his foot and muttering, “He fucking broke it! The fucking fucker broke it!”
Snap!
Something came crashing down on my face and my nose exploded. For a second, all I could see was stars. Something hit me again and my mouth exploded. I danced backward, waiting for my vision to clear.
It didn’t take long.
Third thug held what looked like a small black leather paddle. I recognized it immediately. A blackjack, which was a coil spring attached to a handle on one end, a lead ball on the other, and all of it wrapped in leather. Here in California, like in most states, they were considered a deadly weapon and were illegal to carry or even possess.
“Better count your teeth,” Blackjack chuckled menacingly. “See if you didn’t swallow one.”
My lips were sore. Just in case, I ran my tongue around the inside of my mouth. Didn’t feel any missing teeth. Or any loose ones.
BOOF!
I went flying forward.
Rhino had punched me from behind. “Say your prayers, altar boy.”
I spun around with a high backward elbow. Felt it gouge across Rhino’s face.
“OH FUCK!” he grunted, reeling backward with one hand while covering his nose with the other. Blood squirted out between his fingers.
Blackjack’s leather-clad lead ball smacked the back of my head with a dull thud.
I did say before that I had no idea what I was doing. Especially not in a three-way street fight. Which was now two-way. Time to make it one-way. I spun around and hurled a fist into Blackjack’s stomach.
Totally missed.
Hit the corner of his hip bone.
Crunch!
He collapsed and dropped his blackjack. Tried to sit up. Hissed in pain. Reached for his hip where I’d hit him. Winced and fell back flat. Rolled slowly onto his side, curled into a ball, and rocked back and forth, moaning in agony.
Did I break his pelvis?
I wasn’t sure, but he was done.
I noticed he too had a neck tattoo that spelled FwCK. Maybe it wasn’t a spelling error. Maybe it was an abbreviation? We’d have to go for coffee later and he could tell me all about it.
I turned to face Rhino and grunted, “Guess it’s just you and me, big guy. I told you before to start praying. But you didn’t listen.”
Rhino’s eyes were big and worried. His bloody nose had been smeared to the side and appeared to be growing from his cheek.
I had hit him really hard with my elbow.
“I’ll tell you what,” I said. “You climb on that roof and get my wallet and driver’s license, and give me my credit card and ATM card back, and we’ll call it even.”
“Take ’em,” he whimpered and reached into his pocket and tossed out my cards. They skittered across the asphalt.
“You can do better than that,” I taunted. “Pick them up and hand them to me nicely.”
Rhino backed up slowly. Clearly, the last thing on his mind was fetching my stuff. He was focused on one thing: getting out of here alive.
Okay, I had to admit, playing the bully wasn’t my bag. Dominating people who apparently had no chance of besting me in a fight, then ordering them around like they were my servants, made me feel like an asshole. Rhino could do whatever he wanted.
“Fucking broken!” Pencil Kicker hissed behind me. He slowly limped out of the alley and disappeared around the corner.
Blackjack was barely moving where he lay.
I sighed and picked up my credit and ATM cards. Time to get my wallet and license.
Naked, I jumped up and grabbed the edge of the low roof and clambered on top, being careful not to scrape up my jewels. Grabbed my wallet and driver’s license before hopping down to the alley and landing on my feet with a slap.
Rhino was now gone, but Blackjack was still writhing in agony where he lay.
“Doug!” Lady Liberty strode down the alley and gasped, “You’re naked!” When she saw her flag-cape on the ground, she grabbed it. “Wait, where are the other guys?” She glanced at Blackjack. “Weren’t there three?”
“Yeah,” I nodded.
She glared at me, “Were you fighting?”
“For your honor,” I said with a hint of pride.
“Don’t.”
“Why not? These guys are jerks.”
“Yeah, well, who’s the jerk now?”
I frowned, “Hey, I was just defending myself.”
“You could’ve walked away.”
“Whatever,” I sighed.
“What happened to the other guys?”
“Rhino and Pencil Kicker? They left.”
“Who?”
“Never mind.”
“Put this on,” she grimaced and proffered her cape with impatient irritation. “Take it!”
“Why? You said earlier I could pull off the cape-less look.”
Men, you’ll agree with me on this: when you knocked down a fricking rhinoceros, you suddenly stopped caring about people seeing you naked. Damn right. Let everybody look at the rhino slayer. That was me. Take a good long look. Was I drunk on masculine power? To that I say, give me another flagon.
LL rolled her eyes and threw her cape at me in a wad.
I caught it.
She barked, “Put it in on. Someone’s gonna see you.”
“So?”
“Just put it on.”
I knew I couldn’t walk around on the sidewalk naked, so I wrapped it around my waist and bunched up the ends in my fist.
LL grabbed my wrist and pulled, “Let’s go.”
I followed willingly.
Did I care she was dragging me around?
To quote Rhino, she could drag me anywhere she wanted. Okay, maybe I didn’t want to go around quoting an ass-nugget like him.
But I would follow LL to the ends of the Earth if she asked. In this case, she hadn’t asked, but we were nowhere close to the ends of the Earth yet. I’d give her a few more miles before I said anything.
When we got to the street, people were staring at me and my cape-skirt. No, kilt. Everyone knew how badass those kilt-wearing killers in Braveheart were. I think it was safe to say I had earned the title of cape-kilt.
Someone on the sidewalk appeared to be recording video on their phone.
I ducked my head immediately and held my wallet in front of my face. Hopefully they hadn’t gotten a clear shot. And hopefully no one had recorded the fight. This wouldn’t be the first time a fight got filmed by an anonymous bystander and put on YouTube.
After a fight that violent, there was a good chance I’d end up in court. Pencil Kicker likely had a broken foot or shin from kicking me — his problem — but I had smacked Blackjack into critical condition. He could barely move.
Sure, I could argue self defense, and I might even win in court, but I couldn’t afford to take time off work. And what if I lost? What if the jury decided I had used excessive force and the judge threw me in jail?
I didn’t deserve that.
Not after doing my civic duty by stopping Rhino and his buddies from breaking into someone’s car. See something, say something, right? If that had been my car, I would hope someone like me would’ve said something like I had.
“This way,” LL said, pulling me along the sidewalk and around a corner onto a side street with dozens of parked cars. “Get in,” LL said as she triggered the door locks on a 4-door Audi A4 that had seen better days.
“An Audi?” I chuckled. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Just get in,” she barked impatiently.
I jumped in the passenger side and we drove off.
—: Chapter 9 :—
Kristy sat in the driver’s seat of her car driving away from where she’d parked.
Doug sat beside her.
She was so mad at him right now!
She couldn’t believe he’d beat those guys up!
Why did he have to do that?!
It was such a Brock move!
Those guys weren’t bothering Doug. He should’ve just walked away!
No, Kristy should’ve walked away. Left Doug in that alley to find his own way home and never looked back.
The only reason she’d gone back to get him was because of the Doug she’d met before he’d turned into Musclehead Doug. The other Doug. Drawing Doug. Complimentary Doug. Nice Doug. The Doug who’d helped her help those people trapped in those cars. Team Player Doug. Caring Doug. That Doug was incredible! A helpful hunk and an artist!
That Doug was literally perfect!
Then Musclehead Doug showed up in the alley and ruined everything in classic Brock fashion.
Ugh!
Kristy couldn’t believe that Doug’d had a killer body for all of an hour, and already he was acting like a stupid himbo! Just like Borky Brock!
Did Doug have rocks for brains now too?
Sure seemed like it.
How long would it be until Musclehead Doug started
lying to Kristy and every other woman he laid eyes on?
One second or zero?
Ugh!
He was already hiding something from her. She just knew Jeff had let something slip to Doug about her working at Flashbacks. But Doug wouldn’t admit it! He pretended not to know anything! Like she couldn’t tell?! Please! Hiding the truth or pretending you didn’t know it was two steps away from outright lying! No, one step!
No, it was lying!
Doug was yet another hot mess of a lying liar who lied!
Ugh!
Did big muscles make everyone dumb?
No, just men.
Kristy had muscles now, and they hadn’t made her stupid.
What was it with stupid men and their stupid muscles?!
Ugh!
Kristy didn’t know, but she was now seeing Doug in a very different light.
Very different.
A light that wasn’t flattering at all.
After today, she wasn’t sure she ever wanted to speak to him again. She definitely didn’t want to see Doug again.
He was too stupid good looking now!
Looking at Doug and his new muscles had scrambled her brains and made her K-Cray the same way it had with Brock and so many others. She needed to avoid men like Brock and Doug.
No more muscleheads!
Especially Musclehead Doug.
Dating him would be a total and complete backslide into her old bad habits.
Doug was the one who’d started that fight! She’d even asked him to leave, but no! He had to measure dicks with those dickheads and get in a fight! Just like Brock! Men like Brock always did dumb things like that, and now Doug was too!
It was the muscles!
Ugh!
Why did the hottest men have to be so incredibly frustrating?!
And why couldn’t Doug have stayed normal?!
He’d been fine before the green alien beam ruined him!
Totally fine!
Kristy was sooo ready to hurry up and never see him again.
She tried to hide her scowl so Doug wouldn’t see.
Who needed super-powers anyway?
Normal was just fine!
Kristy took a deep breath, trying to calm her K-Cray.
The one good thing about the green beam, other than giving her the strength to save those people, was her cheek where Brock’d hit her didn’t hurt anymore. Actually, it had stopped hurting pretty much the minute after the green beam. Same as her fists from punching Brock. They weren’t sore either. Like getting stronger had healed everything and made her tougher.
