“As impossible as it may seem, the world of our forefathers had no magic of its own. The only time that there was any magic at all was during the early stages of our forefathers being copied from Earth to Terranopes, but even then it was only the barest trickles of magic. However, because their world was never intended to have magic, these trickles of magic showed up, they behaved… oddly, even if they worked after a fashion. To make matters worse, their world did not have any of the magic training aspects that ours does, which served to make matters even more confusing for them.”
Excerpt from The Birth of Our World, 1006 A.B.
Christopher Leroy Knightsen, Kansas City MO
“See you next time Sensei!”
“Be safe going home!” I replied as the last of my kenjutsu students left for the day.
“Don’t worry, I will!” They replied right before the door closed behind them.
With my students gone, I checked all of the bokken and other practice weapons to make sure that they had been put away properly. That done, I changed back into my street clothes and carefully placed all of the reproduced antique weapons I normally used for decoration into my duffle bag surrounded by towels and other padding so that they don’t get damaged.
Well, except for the spear of course, because there is no way I’m fitting that into a duffel bag. Instead, I ensured that it was properly sheathed so I could carry it on my shoulder for the fifteen-minute walk home. I also put both of my personal bokkens into the bag on top of everything else so I could practice my katas in the morning.
With everything ready, I stepped out of the door, locked it, and headed home whistling, which I don’t normally do. Looking back at the past week, I realized that for the first time in a while, life was looking up for me. I had a new wave of transfer students, most of whom were actually interested in learning what I had to teach.
On top of that, the twenty-year legal mess surrounding my Grandparent’s Will had finally been resolved, allowing me to finally access the antique weapons collection that they had left me.
At this point I spent several blissful minutes planning how I would organize said collection, completely forgetting to pay attention to where I was going.
“Heads up Grandpa! Coming through!”
Snapping out of my thoughts, I barely had time to dodge the young man blitzing down the sidewalk on a bicycle.
“Run Forest!” I yelled after him, earning a “Ha!” from a passing teenager.
With that crisis averted, I looked around me to get my bearings, only to realize that I was five blocks past my street. Shrugging, I turned down the next alleyway on my left, which was the beginning of a shortcut I used on occasion.
About the time I was ten steps into the alley, a conversation drifting around the corner caught my attention and sent my senses scrambling for their battle stations.
“Hey, there little lady, what's a pretty little thing like you doing out here on a cold, dark night like tonight? What say we take you home and warm you up with some... fireworks?” said a man in the unmistakable honey-dripping voice most often used for pick-up lines the world over. Given his strong Texan accent, I decided to call this fellow Cowboy #1.
Considering that it wasn't particularly cold or dark at this hour on such a lovely summer evening, I knew this might not bode well for the lady in question if she said “No.” Deciding to help her, I gently set down my duffle bag and spear up against the wall before pulling out both of my bokkens before continuing forward.
“Back off fools, I am not interested in any sort of offer that you might suggest.” replied the lady in question with a voice like frozen steel, making it blatantly obvious to anyone with a working brain that she was not even vaguely interested.
I rounded the corner just as she finished speaking, and finally got a better picture of what was going on.
There were five thugs standing in a line across the alleyway and given that they were all dressed in matching jackets with some sort of skeletal snake emblem, they were probably all members of the new gang I’d heard about.
With that done, I started evaluating the thugs individually rather than as a group, and I wasn’t very impressed. Since the big guy in the middle was wearing cowboy boots and a matching hat, I assumed that he was Cowboy #1.
There wasn’t anything particularly special about the rest of the thugs, so I decided to number the rest of the gang members from left to right, so I had something to refer to them by, excluding Cowboy #1 as he already had a name.
I mean come on, surely they have more of a personality than what I was seeing here from behind! Other than the jolly Texan giant in the middle who was clearly a white man, the rest of the gang looked like they could be from just about anywhere in the world, they were all about the same height and weight and wearing identical outfits.
I finally got a look at the “damsel in distress,” and my estimate of the thugs' intelligence dropped significantly. I had already known that they weren’t the brightest since they’re doing this within two blocks of the police station, but propositioning a lady like this one is a whole new level of stupid.
Yes, she was indeed a very pretty little lady, but she was no trollop.
She was about four foot six, with blue eyes, black hair pulled back into a bun and a dusky complexion, wearing a tight-fitting grey t-shirt with the Air Force emblem on it showing off her muscles, blue jeans, and marine issue combat boots. To make matters worse for the thugs, I could tell by the way that she was standing that she possessed far more martial arts training than your average airman. Judging by her appearance, she may be somewhere around fifty years old, but I’d give her a fifty-fifty chance of winning the coming fight on her own.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
Then thug #5, whose brain appeared to work just a teensy bit faster decided that he should add his own two cents to the conversation by asking, “But we just want to take you home and give you a night that you won't soon forget! What is wrong with that?”
“What’s wrong is that I’m not interested. At all. This is your last warning. Back off you fools, and I won't break your faces even more than they already have been.” she replied in a voice that was even colder than before, which I hadn’t thought was possible.
Cowboy #1 proved that he wasn’t in charge for the sake of his common sense as he crossed his arms and said “Don’t be silly, of course you’re interested. What woman wouldn’t be? Besides, how's a little thing like you going to even reach the face of a big man like me?”
Oh, you poor fool! That is the last thing that you should have asked a lady in her position!
*****
Pamela Josephine Daniels
Ugh. What a day! First, I have to deal with an excessive amount of obnoxious jerks all day and then I get lost on my way back my new apartment. How did I even end up in this part of town anyway?
It had been a long week since I had gotten transferred from active duty to one of the recruiting centers in downtown Kansas City. It wouldn’t be the first time that I’d gotten transferred halfway around the world without any notice whatsoever, I’m in the military after all, but this was the first time since boot camp where I was transferred on my own. Being transferred with a unit isn’t too bad because a good unit backs each other up on and off the battlefield.
As if being transferred on my own like this wasn’t bad enough, I was also forced to live in civilian housing for the first time since I’d joined the Marines at eighteen. After fifteen years in the Marines and another seventeen years in the Air Force, living off base was taking some getting used to.
Unfortunately, I was so down in the dumps that I didn’t notice I’d taken a couple of wrong turns. Once I did notice, it was too late – the thugs had blocked off the alley behind me, leaving my only exits either through them or with them.
Lord Jesus help me. I prayed. I can’t do this on my own.
“Hey, there little lady, what is a pretty little thing like you doing out here on a cold dark night like tonight? What say we take you home and warm you up with some... fireworks?” said a rather large man who was dressed in some sort of jacket with a snake-thing sprawling across the front as he stopped directly in front of me.
Well, this should be interesting.
“Back off fools, I am not interested in any offer that you might suggest,” I said in the voice I used with recruits who were preparing to do something rather stupid.
At that moment another man rounded the corner behind them in a fighter’s crouch with a slightly curved wooden rod that somehow reminded me of a sword in each hand. He was not a large man, but at exactly six feet tall, he wasn't a small one either, and he was clearly of at least half Japanese descent. He was dressed in black leather with his hair up in a topknot and some of those foot-shaped slip-on shoe things that go in between your toes on his feet.
However, the very first thing that I noticed was the predatory grace with which he was quietly sneaking up behind the group of thugs. He may have been somewhere around my age, but clearly, this man was no slouch when it came to a fight.
Backup has arrived! I thought to myself.
Then one of the other thugs decided to speak up. “We just want to take you home and give you a night that you won't soon forget. What is wrong with that?”
I have no idea who these guys are, and just because I won't forget it doesn't mean I will enjoy it.
“What’s wrong is that I’m not interested. At all. This is your last warning. Back off you fools, and I won't break your faces even more than they already are.” I said in an even harsher tone of voice.
“Don’t be silly, of course you’re interested. What woman wouldn’t be?” Denied their leader as he crossed his arms. “Besides, how's a little thing like you going to even reach the face of a big man like me?”
If a rejection flies over a man’s head at angels 50, does it still make a sound? I thought as I took a deep breath and prayed for strength before answering his second question with a demonstration.
“Like this!” I yelled as I kicked the leader in his family jewels as hard as I could. Between my combat trained legs and marine issue combat boots, it didn't matter if he was wearing a cup, he was going to be in some serious pain.
While he was busy folding in half to protect himself, I pulled my foot back to its starting position, before kneeing him in the face as soon as it was in optimum range. He hit the ground with a thud and stayed there.
I don't think he was dead, but I had no time to check at the moment since his friends were still up and kicking.
I expected the thug who spoke up earlier to step up and take command of the group since he seemed to have the most initiative after their leader, but I was wrong. That honor went to a different thug, who drew a switchblade out of his pocket and pointed it at me proclaiming “Lady, you just made a bad choice. We were going to make sure that you had a good time, but now you are going to be in a world of hurt before we are done with you!”
As he was saying this, the samurai, as I decided to think of him tossed one of his not-swords to me over their heads. Of course, while this was happening the rest of the thugs drew their own knives and started to come towards me.
Immediately after I caught it, I swung the not-sword at the head of the thugs’ second in command. He tried to duck, but I still managed to whack him over the head hard enough that he dropped like a stone to join their leader on the ground.
Then another thug attempted to stab me with a predictable downward swipe from above his head, which I blocked with one hand on either end of the not-sword before dispatching him with the same method as their leader.
Looking around for another opponent, I discovered that the samurai had ambushed the other five thugs while I was busy with my three.
“Wow. That was fast! I thought that it would take longer than that to deal with all of those idiots!” I said.
“Nah. Most of the time long fights happen when those doing the fighting are evenly matched and it is a fair fight. This was NOT a fair fight.” replied the Samurai.
“True. Thanks for the assist by the way! I'm Pamela.” I said as I stuck my hand out in introduction.
“You're welcome! I'm Chris,” he replied as he shook my hand. “At this point, we should probably call the cops and let them take care of these idiots before we leave.”
“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Do you want to make that call, or should I?”
“I’ll do it. I have a friend who is a cop and he should be on duty at the moment. Besides, the cops are used to me helping people deal with gangs around here.” he said. “This wouldn’t be the first time that I have rescued someone from some group of idiots who think they are so tough because they are in a gang.”
“Really? How often does that happen?” I asked.
“Far more than I would like,” he replied as he put his phone up to his mouth.
“Yo yo yo! What is up my dude?” blared Chris’s phone before it could even ring once.
“Heya Howler, I just rescued a damsel.”
“Again? Where you at?”
“I’m in an alleyway two blocks east and five blocks to the south of my apartment building, and there are nine thugs on the ground.”
“Aight. We’ll be there in a moment, just turned onto your street. See ya soon!” Howler said before he hung up.
“Wait, why did you call me a damsel?”
“It’s a bit of a running joke between Howler and I. This wouldn’t be the first time I rescued a pretty lady on my way home.”
“Let me guess, his nickname is Howler because he’s loud,” I said.
“Would you like to borrow a pair of earplugs?” Chris asked.