“Grrk,” the woman tried to say.

“Your probably shouldn’t try to speak,” James said. “I’ll let off the pressure so you don’t faint but all it takes is ten seconds and you’re out like a light. Garret, you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Garret said shakily.

James looked around the room, spotting the bouncer who had come out from the hallway. His large arms had expanded, the plates on the outside making room for slightly pulsating cords. Steam hissed from somewhere on the man. The other gang members in the room were nowhere near as intimidating, though all of them were giving James dirty looks. The customers, however, were still lost in either VR simulations or the haze of drugs. Probably for the best, James figured. It wouldn’t do any good to have customers panicking.

“I’m surprised you went for violence first, to be honest,” James said to the woman in his hold. “You don’t build up this kind of structure by jumping the gun.”

“You came in like clueless tourists and expected us to make a deal?” the woman grunted.

“You know what, fair, that’s on me,” James said. “I’ll admit I was baiting you. I mean, we couldn’t just walk in and say, ‘hey there we have something you want to buy.’ You’d have thrown us out.”

“What do you want?” the woman asked.

“Let’s make a deal,” James said. “You and I talk about selling our XP chips to a larger base. We weren’t joking about having those.”

“Let go of me and we can talk,” the woman said.

“Now, hold on,” James said. “What stops your big guy near the door from charging me once you’re free? You’re currently my only position of power.”

He flicked his eyes back to the bouncer, which was the only thing that saved him from what happened next. James saw the door behind the large man move ever so slightly. A gut instinct had James diving to the side in moments, tackling Garret to the ground with him.

A blue light filled the room as James dove, an electric net expanding from the door. Due to his reaction, James escaped. The woman in orange wasn’t so lucky.

The net wrapped around her whole body, trapping her inside as the capture tool did its work. She spasmed, smoke rising from her clothing as the internal electrics short circuited. Her muscles spasmed, seizing up and shaking as the weapon attack her systems.

“Teru!” the bouncer shouted in alarm. He turned to the door, ready to take on the intruder who dared attack. He came face to face with a lithe man in nondescript clothing. One arm had folded open, internal cybernetics spinning up to load another net launcher.

The bouncer roared and threw a punch. His synthetic muscles rippled, steam whistling from his back. The punch moved like a pitcher’s fastball, but the attacker simply stepped to the side and avoided the blow. He idly lifted his hand and fired another electric net. The bouncer raised his other arm, letting the net wrap around it. The shock from the net took the arm out of commission, but it seemed the bouncer didn’t care as long as he had the ability to act.

James pulled Garret off the ground and over the side of the bar. Gisela swung a kitchen knife, James narrowly avoiding it. He grabbed her wrist on the next strike, disarming her.

“Hold on,” he said.

“Let go!” Gisela grunted.

“I’m not your enemy,” James argued.

“Sure you aren’t,” Gisela spat. “We knew rival gangs would be all over us.”

James peeked over the bar. The bouncer had lost his other arm in the few seconds of talking.

“Just listen,” James said quickly. “I’m not part of any gang. I don’t know who that is, either. I do know that he’s dangerous, but I can’t help if I get attacked in the back. Understand?”

Gisela paused. “You’re going to fight that guy?”

“I’m not about to lose this sale,” James said. “So if I have to, I will.”

“Fine,” Gisela said. “But your friend dies if you’re playing me.”

Garret whimpered. James patted his friend on the back. “Don’t worry. I’m good at this sort of thing.”

James leaped over the counter, grabbing a drinking glass in the process. He whipped it at the attacker as he landed. The assailant somersaulted, avoiding both the kick from the bouncer and the glass sailing overhead.

James furrowed his brow. That movement was too smooth for a simple gang member. He didn’t have time to think about it, however, as the attacker had loaded another net.

There was a whumping noise as the net fired. James dove out of the way, hearing the shattering of bottles behind him. A piece of debris struck him in the foot, knocking James off balance.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

He looked at the attacker in surprise. The man knew exactly where to aim as James stepped.

“You’re a cultivator,” he realized.

The attacker said nothing, choosing to spend the time reloading his net. James knew there had to be a limit on ammunition, but it certainly didn’t seem like it.

The next whump of noise came, and James somersaulted to the side. He made sure to shift his weight so that a single thrown piece of debris wouldn’t put him back on the ground. However, the attacker was getting closer.

James stood, turning and settling into his stance. His breathing evened out, putting James closer to the Metastate that he had achieved some time ago. He wasn’t instant with it, however. He needed to buy precious seconds.

Seconds that were quickly vanishing. The bouncer was on the ground, a third next wrapped around his legs to keep him from moving. James could see the man struggling, but with his arms short-circuited there was little chance of him getting back up. The woman in orange, Teru, lay still, wisps of smoke rising from her body. James couldn’t tell if she was unconscious or dead.

He had no time to worry about that, however, as the attacker had reloaded and was aiming his arm at James once more. James reached to his side, grabbing the chair next to him and whipping it at the man as he fired. He followed up the throw, running toward the man as the net fired.

The net struck the chair, wrapping around it instead of James. The lines of energy started to appear as James sunk into the Metastate, telling him exactly where the chair would fall. However, the state told him nothing about the man ahead of him.

Like the young cultivators during the game of skateball, this cultivator knew how to restrict the intent of his actions. The unconscious movements everyone made when thinking were invisible, leaving James with nothing to predict. James responded like he had in the Skateball match, imagining and pretending to act on every possibility that came to his mind.

There was a small twinge of surprise from the attacking cultivator and a twinge of heat from James’s back. However, unlike the younger cultivators, this attacker had more experience. He waited until James committed to a movement, wasting no energy trying to prevent every action.

James leaped over the chair, landing in a roll and coming up with his knee raised. The attacker jammed his hands in front of the knee, stopping the attack’s momentum. He lashed out with a headbutt, James barely avoiding the attack.

The exchange happened in moments, James forced to back away and create distance. James tried again, using every trick he knew to feint and get the attacker off guard. Again, the assailant blocked with minimal movement, responding with strikes to James’s face. The exchanges continued, James trying to get the man into a hold while the attacker tried to knock James out.

The world around James was cool despite the heat coming off his back. He could tell he didn’t have much time, every action he took in the Metastate was one step closer to overheating. The only solace was that it was likely the same for the attacker. However, James could see the man wasn’t anywhere close to as tired as James felt. In fact, he still looked rather energized.

It forced James to take a step back, leaving just enough space for him to react to a net while still keeping out of range of a strike. The lines of energy ran around James, showing him the aftermath of his assault. He tuned it out, trying to understand why his enemy wasn’t nearly as tired.

The answer came to him as the attacker burst forth in a flurry of blows. Up until he had moved, the man had been in a state of complete rest. Unlike James, who was constantly on the move, attacking with feints and misdirections, this man didn’t move until he committed. That meant he didn’t use as much energy, which put him in a better position the longer they fought.

“Junking beasts,” James cursed under his breath. That meant he’d have to win the fight quickly before he was forced to exit the Metastate. Because once that happened James had no way of stopping his foe.

He stepped back from the incoming jabs, keeping out of range just far enough to counterattack if he saw an opening. There was none. The attacker’s hands moved like coiled springs, darting in and out to strike James. Heat continued to build at James’s back. He would have to think of something soon.

He tried to grab an incoming punch, only to find the arm slipping out of his grasp. A thin film of oil coated his hands. James soured, the oil would keep him from getting a good hold on his foe.

The attacker knew so as well, it seemed. James kept having to avoid the constant stream of punches, all the while trying to think of a counterattack. He could try striking, but James’s Stochastic Simian Arts used little in the way of actual strikes. It seemed like a throw might be his only option since the grabs ineffective. The man still wore a set of robes, but James knew it would be difficult for him to get so close.

James tried to step forward, only for his foe to retreat in equal fashion. It seemed the man had no intention of letting James get close. He was perfectly content to leave this to a battle of attrition.

James grunted in frustration. He needed to throw his foe off guard, but the only way he could see himself doing that is by taking a hit. Except, James had no way of knowing if he could stay up after getting hit by—

Oh, that was right, James realized. He was an idiot. He’d completely forgotten about the talismans.

His opponent stopped, confused as to why James had stopped broadcasting a myriad of feints and misdirections. He waited, wary for a trick.

It was the wrong move. If the attacker had been more aggressive James wouldn’t have reacted in time. But because the man was cautious and liked to wait things out he lost the chance.

James leaped into the fray, activating his talisman and preparing himself for a hit. Sure enough, his opponent countered with a strike. For a moment, it looked as if the man had succeeded. A swift punch had struck James right under the chin.

But the talisman did its work. James felt his body stiffen for a moment as the attack struck. In his state of heightened awareness, James could see how his body tensed in some places and slackened in others, redirecting the force away from anything important. Like his brain.

For a moment, the attacker let his guard down, thinking he had won. The moment was all James needed. He lashed out, grabbing the man by the shirt and kicking his leg. With a quick shift of weight, James spun the man over his shoulder and slammed him directly into the ground. His muscles screamed in protest, the quick shift from rigidity to fluidity causing pain, but James pushed through. He put everything he had into the strike.

The floor cracked as the man pounded into the ground back first. He coughed, the air leaving his lungs. James didn’t hesitate. He followed the throw up with another, grabbing the man and flipping him in the air.

This time the attacker landed at a slightly awkward angle, his arm bending the wrong direction. James heard a snap and a cry of pain, the whimpering. James sighed and stepped back, emerging from the Metastate.

He could feel the heat on his back along with a slightly singed neck from where the talisman had activated. James sighed.

“Okay, can we all have a civil conversation now?”