Guffaws Followed

‘Guffaws followed’.

What a soundtrack. The smirking laughter of my betters.

I’d be describing that to a therapist one day, no doubt.

I had to shake myself free of it. No time to rabbit hole. Only then I realized this entire time I’d been thought looping. They were over there mocking and plotting to slap me up and I was thinking about any and everything except not getting knocked out.

Getting knocked out meant loss. Loss meant not following orders. Not following orders meant…

I didn’t wanna think about that. But it definitely escalated my anxiety.

“C’mon, stay in the game, stay in the game, stay in the game,” I rapidly said to myself, trying to keep my voice a whisper. To focus. “Just lock in one time, scatterbrain. One time.” I begged my brain.

Last thing I wanted was for these guys to know I was scared as fuck.

Why was I so scared?

I looked back at Dvar again.

Sitting on his smarmy ass sipping his smarmy water having his smarmy phone conversation-

Aw man… our food arrived.

I watched Jasprit set my bowl of butter chicken down next to my bowl of ramen.

“God damnit… I just wanted butter chicken and ramen!” I whined loudly.

The Yakuza toughs liked that one. Once again they found reason to poke fun at me.

‘Pfft… Yeah, that’s right. Go ahead and start eating.’ I thought, watching Dvar lean forward and tuck in while he spoke.

“Fucker.”

I frowned and turned my head back to his car, stuffing his key into the trunk. I twisted it with a dull thunk and let it pop up in front of me, taking the keys up with it and ultimately into safety considering what was about to go down.

Inside was a black case made of ornate wood. I knew the wood right away on sight. Lignum vitae. The last rare earth mineral worth a damn in existence. The illusion wouldn’t let us grow it. It could only grow in the real, and even then with the harsh wasteland the earth had become, that took specialized hands to do.

And here it was just sitting here in a big case. Enough lignum vitae to pay rent for a few months. I shook my head at it and popped the latches. Inside was something even more impressive.

A Dharma Yog blade. Edge to edge a blunt katana made of lignum vitae. Ornately curved to perfection, the braided grip made of strips of handsome, whisky leather.

The very edge of it, as was supposed, was edged in metal. Uncharged metal. As I picked it up I felt it reach to me and I answered, leaving its sheath inside.

Closing my amber eyes for a moment, I tapped into what was mine. The One Logic within. I felt it pull from my core and the edge thrummed to life, glowing a subtle blue. Just for a moment, then fading into the metal.

I closed the hood down and left the keys swinging in it, turning to face them.

All eight of them.

Now brandishing blunted blades of their own, freshly fished from their trunks and back seats.

Not made of lignum vitae. Just blunted blades.

Those hurt too.

A lot.

One of them said something to me in Hindi I didn’t understand entirely.

Something I knew was vile. I got the idea reading between the lines.

“Yeah? Well my butthole already belongs to somebody. Now what?!”

Wait, that wasn’t a good thing.

Guffaws followed.

“Oh man…” I whined, my lip curling as I tried not to pout.

The one out front lifted his blade, aiming it at me. Pointing.

“Make your time.”

Thousand percent positive that’s not what he said. That’s just what I understood.

“What?” I still didn’t completely understand Hindi.

I had to work on that.

Not that it mattered. He came on with a roar.

“Oh sh-…” I dipped low, just as the others came on.

I turned left, avoiding a swiping blade, turned right, avoiding another. They surrounded me in a half circle of bodies and blunted blades. The third swing bit into my shoulder with that blunt smack.

“Augh!” I screamed in pain, turning clean around and whipping my own blade out wide, hard, for what I knew was coming.

The clang of metal on metal let me know I was right, intercepting a swing aimed at my neck. The boot that hit me in the gut let me know I picked the wrong escape plan though.

Tucking under a blade to turn to my left, one of them shoved their foot right into me, blasting the air out of my lungs. I flew backward the length of a human, landing on my back in a roll. One I knew needed a swift answer to if I intended not to feel more pain. I came up out of the roll on the defensive and eight blades kept me there.

Stepping back repeatedly, blades sliced and cut against one another in the parking lot. A symphony of collision. All I saw was angry faces and shoving weapons, but my dance- at least at first- was better. They pushed in and I got crafty. Blades came in low and I skipped back, using my own to send them wide, blasting blades left and right with harsh swings.

They neared my head and I ducked, another sliding in at the same moment, forcing me to lift my free arm out of the way as I spun forward, bringing my edge with me. I had to part their defense or they’d have me against Dvar’s car.

I wasn’t gonna get a scratch on Dvar’s car.

Be for real. I was way more scared of him than these guys.

I batted another sword hard and turned parallel to the swinger, vaulting myself in the air and over the lot of them, dropping down behind, only for one of them push in hard to my right. My blade met him, turning into him, bashing his blade harder than he’d planned for. I continued the motion and caught him with my left fist across the chin. I punched him so hard the both of us collapsed onto the back of one of their cars, my weight over top of him.

I heard the roar from behind, looking down at the body beneath me bent backwards over the trunk and spun out of the way.

The blade intended for me?

Yeah, that definitely broke some ribs when it smashed into him instead of me. I skipped forward and push-kicked it’s owner, dropping him onto his back.

I was up. Leaping, blade high over head, roaring as I came down looking to end the fight for him then and there.

“UGGH!” he roared as my blade likely shattered ribs.

I looked up in time to see a spinning kick that sent me backwards so hard my back bashed into the ground. I didn’t linger. Flip kicking back up over his sword as he dropped to a knee and swung it like a baseball bat.

My feet touched down and I ran my ass off.

I hot footed it away from him, turning a wide circuit, my arms pumping, slashing to avoid blade contact. Using metal on metal to bounce blades away from me as I ran. Around the car.

Running for my life.

One of them clambered right over it, snatching one of my braids. I bashed his face with the butt of my sword, blacking his eye.

“Fuck off!” I yelled, but he slowed me enough to have to go on the offensive. The guy whose ribs i thought I surely busted to dust was up again, charging me with another one of his Yakuza friends.

“How the f-” A punch slung me against their convertible, sprawling me over the hood.

Two more came around the front of the car and I clambered off of the hood like an animal slinging my legs out in front of me to slide the rest of the way off of it, diving right into battle.

Three blades flashed in the sun as we danced that angry dance we do. A continuous sound of metal on metal as they kept me locked in combat. My arms were starting to get tired, my back was aching, but I kept pushing. I couldn’t lose.

I wouldn’t lose.

I refused to lose.

I hated that I loved the chaos so much. The screaming, the roaring, the masculine energy. Forced to act. To fight on three fronts. I was panting like a winded marathon runner by I kept going, shifting from left, to right to front, skillfully working footwork Mido taught me. Remembering his lessons about getting in a rush.

“Never let them surround you. Never let them panic you.”

I’d gotten half of that right. Every time someone moved to slide around behind, I stepped back, danced, skipped, even flipped back. Up on top of the back of the car defending my neck.

A well placed kick launched me from it onto the ground.

“Nnghf!” I hit it rolling, clattering blade and all to a stop on my stomach.

Panting, I stared up at them. They chuckled and came on. I growled, smacking my fist into the ground and was up again.

“Stop laughing at me!” I roared…

And we were at it again.

Clanging and banging furiously.

“Fuck you!”

It made me feel alive. Somewhere after my rage fueled curse, I felt it come on. I felt the zen of battle take over. Wasn’t long before I had a smile on my face. My amber eyes flashed, left, right, ticks tocking, gears spinning in my head as I answered attacks with parries, counters and replies. I lost track of time. I never wanted to stop.

I could fight forever…

I was infinite…

Dharma Yog resonance sparked.

Stumbling opened me up to a dozen strikes. I ate them. It sucked.

I fought anyway.

Rumble young man rumble.

My limbs were throbbing with pain, bruised heavily.

I couldn’t let them hit me in the core or the head.

If I went down, resonance wouldn’t save me from having eight dudes take turns beating me up.

In a world where it was nearly impossible to die, we brokered pain.

A lot of it.

Or worse.

You lose, expect them to take out their frustration on your frame when you had no resonance to defend against it. I’d been there. That’s a trip to the tissue clinic. Usually after they got handsy with me in my case. In a world where stoicism is all that mattered, I fucking hated when it happened to me on Meridian. It meant losing another social war.

One of them grabbed a braid and tripped me, bashing my face into the ground.

After that, shit got hazy…