Dragon Kin

08

Alicja

I couldn't even guess how much Krav Maga has taught me. Balance, strength, posture — it's amazing for all of those and much more.

Self confidence, presence, social negotiations — again top marks.

Hundreds of ways to disable, wound, and terrorize those who wished to terrorize me? Pure icing on the cake. Absolute profit, all the way. Truly.

I mean, I was going to be sweating and exercising anyway, right? Jogging, yoga, whatever, I was going to be doing it, so it's not like extra laundry to be learning Krav Maga, instead of yoga.

I screamed several times, for the police on the phone. The man kicking on the door and trying to shoulder it open added plenty of brutal sound effects. The cops should be arriving in five to ten minutes. Likely sooner.

The door frame — the weakest link of that system — cracked, and the hinges buckled and then tore out of the wood frame. One hundred pounds of solid core door came down, and crashed through the curtain.

The man, tall, athletic — thick curly dark hair — his voice felt north-eastern. Maine, or Massachusetts maybe. He wore a black leather jacket. A nice one. Not a biker or gang member jacket. This was two-thousand dollar cow.

Picking up a small delicate glass globe from the shelf beside me, I threw it at him and followed after it, weapon ready.

He didn't pay attention to me at first. He thought Ocean was in here, or someone was in here with me.

The glass-globe shattered on his forehead and splashed bleach in his eyes.

I rushed forward, following close behind the glass globe. When it shattered, I came in swinging my pipe, connecting the end of the weapon to his forehead.

He yelped in shock, and pain and then stopped, like his power had been yanked from the wall. Just — off, when the pipe connected.

I twirled my pipe, and looked him over. He was big. The three-day beard gave him a nefarious appearance. But it was the thick, early-man brow, which fascinated me most.

"Get away from him, or I'll fucking shoot you, bitch!"

His friend stepped quickly up the steps, gun leveled on me, not looking for anyone else. Just me, and his pal on the floor.

"How's ya mom'n'em?" I said, taking a step back. It was a big gun. Not a fancy one. A massive revolver. The kind that if you run out of bullets you can sell the metal for cash, and then invest in a small business with an attached apartment and start a new life — or something.

He checked his mate's pulse, and I guess he liked what he felt, because he started looking around like his friend had done. "Where is he?"

"Who?" I asked.

"The man who walked you home," he said with a dry rasp as he stood up again.

"Ocean?" I asked.

"Yes," he barked. "Where?"

"Behind you," I said, and waved. "Hi Ocean."

Ocean didn't wait for the man to turn, he just whacked him in the back of his head with his palm, and — turned him off.

"Wow," I said, looking at the second man laying on top of the first one. "You need to teach me that."

"Looked like you were doing fine. I wasn't going to interrupt until you waved."