The factory is silent in the early morning light. I sit in the corner still as a statue, back straight, hands on my knees, face calm as I conduct my morning meditation.
Cat stumbles into the room barefoot, hair mussed, eyes wide, still half-drunk on dreams of blood and fire. But she doesn't speak. Doesn't giggle. Doesn't charge in like a manic demon. She pauses upon seeing me and kneels right there on the cold concrete, as if the floor itself has become holy ground.
"Doc…" She whispers, her voice raw from sleep. "I… I didn't mean to… interrupt…" She swallows. "I just…had to see you…" Her fingers twitch toward the Gigglesaw, but she stops herself. "I dreamt… you were gone… and I tore the whole city apart looking for you…" She shudders and bows her head.
I smile, not moving or opening my eyes. "Good morning, Cat. If you breathed any louder, I could shoot you in the dark if I were blind," I say, the smile becoming wider. "I was hoping you'd try to sneak up on me and take a closer look," I say. "Step onto the mat," I insist, wearing a loose-fitting black outfit of comfortable robes.
Cat freezes. Her foot hovers just above the mat, her green eyes wide, already sensing something is wrong. Then she lowers her foot and …"SQWAR-KAAAAA-OOOOOONK!" A sound so obscene, so violently wrong, it ripped the silence like a dying parrot being launched through a kazoo factory. Cat jumps, arms flailing, her face twisting in shock. "Wha...?! "What the hell was that?!" She screeches. Then she sees me. Sitting cross-legged in the center of the room, surrounded by the mat, calm and smiling. "…You…" she whispers, horrified, then thrilled. "You set me up…" She presses both hands onto the mat, slowly, deliberately. "SQWAR-KAAAAA-OOOOOOOOOONK! SQWAR-KAAAAA-OOOOOOOOOOONK!" Cat erupts into hysterics, clutching her stomach, rolling around on the floor, kicking her legs like a maniac.
I laugh. "Welcome to your first lesson. Things are often not what they seem. Be alert and ready for anything. Your surroundings can be either your greatest ally or your worst enemy," I say, gesturing at the mat around me. "This is our attempt at making a Nightingale floor," I explain. "Centuries ago in Japan, lords and nobles would employ them as security against assassins. As soon as pressure from someone walking on it is applied to the mat, it gives a sound like the cry of the nightingale bird," I pause before adding. "Ours ended up sounding quite horrendous, but it does the job."
Cat wipes tears of joy from her face. Her chest still heaves with laughter, her eyes glowing in the dim light, fixed on you, on the mat, on the absurdity of it all. She presses her ear to the mat like it's sharing a secret with her. "Listen..." She giggles, tapping it with her knuckle. "SQWAR-KAAAAA-OOOOOOOOOOOONK!"
"Oopsie!" She giggles delightedly. "I love it!" She grins. "That's not a nightingale…" She coos, rolling onto her back, arms wide. "That's a murdered clown… haunted by trumpets… dying in a thunderstorm!"
"That's not the only lesson the nightingale floor can teach you," I say, climbing to my feet. We stand at one end, looking over at the other end, some ten meters away. "Observe," I say, then without waiting for her to speak, I back up and break into a run, running over the nightingale floor and to the other side. It doesn't make a sound. I turn and face her. "When you can cross the nightingale floor without it making a sound. Then we will know your training is complete. We have a long way to go before then."
Cat stares at the mat, the monster that screamed like the end of the world moments ago, now silent, betraying nothing, as I crossed it like a ghost.
Her eyes widen in awe. "…No…" She whispers, stepping forward, slow and careful, like the floor might bite. "You… you lied to it…? Huh!" She gasps, delighted. "But… how?"
I smile at her amazement as she tests the floor, making it squawk horribly. "It is all about control; control yourself and you can control the world around you...and even the other people in it. The ultimate act of control is to cross the nightingale floor without it protesting, because it won't even know you're there. Do you think those Mafia goons I faced last night were in control?" I ask, then answer for her, because I know she knows. "No, I had control. They were already dead; my visit just gave them a one-way ticket to the graveyard." I walk around the mat, talking as I return to her. "You are the claw of the Raven; when the time comes, you won't walk across it, you will fly." I say with a smile as I stand. "Come to the Raven's Nest; we've some business to take care of," I tell her, leading the way.
When we get there, I see her frozen in place, staring at the Screaming Throne where a fat, ginger cat lies sleeping in it. Hearing the commotion, he opens his eyes to study us with a sleepy yet curious gaze. A black cat rubs against my leg as I enter. "Violet! Stop it! You're going to trip me! Einari, how did you get up here?" I ask the sleepy ginger cat. Violet gives a grunt of indignation and saunters over to Cat and begins rubbing on her leg and purring, looking up at her expectantly with big, dark eyes. "Reow?"
Cat stares at the ginger cat, Einari, as he stretches lazily in the Screaming Throne, his fluffy belly rising and falling with each sleepy breath.
Violet rubs against her leg, purring.
Cat's eyes widen. "…Ohhh…" she whispers, voice soft, wobbly. "You… you like me!" She drops to her knees, slow and reverent, and extends a trembling hand toward Violet. "Mmm… pretty kitty…" she coos, fingers hovering just above the black fur, afraid to touch, to ruin the moment.
Violet headbutts her palm. Purring louder.
Cat gasps. A small, broken sound. "Doc…" She whispers, looking up at you, eyes wet with unshed tears. "She… she doesn't know what I am..." Her voice cracks. "She just… loves me."
Einari yawns, stretches, and drops off the throne, sauntering over to rub against her other leg.
Tears spill down her cheeks, silent and hot as she scoops both cats into her arms, burying her face in their fur, shoulders shaking. "I won't hurt you…" she whispers, her voice muffled in black and ginger fur. "I promise… I'll kill anyone who tries." She looks up at me, pleading. "Can… can they stay? Please? I'll… I'll feed them… play with them every day."
I chuckle as I watch her with the cats as Charlie enters the room. "Well, it seems you've made some new friends," I say with a laugh. "Meet our resident security and pest control team. Einari and Violet. They're my cats, but they seem to have taken a shine to you very quickly." I smile. "I did have them locked away in my apartment until you got settled in, but they've seemed to manage to escape somehow," I say with a frown. "Oh, and before I forget, since you've not got a car or license, you're going to need a way to get around."
"Oooh! What is it, Doc? The keys to a tank? My very own Ferrari? A motorbike with flamethrowers?" she asks, enthusiastically, her eyes wide with excitement.
I dig into my pocket and hand her something that she looks at excitedly. The grin vanishes when she realises it's a bus pass. "There's a stop in the estate just a five-minute walk away," I say as if it's something to be excited about.
Charlie chuckles. "Working for a vigilante killer at a high-tech computer terminal that puts NASA to shame, and you still gotta ride the bus like a chump," he says with an amused grin.
Cat doesn't react at first. She just stares at the bus pass, eyes wide and unblinking as reality sinks in. Then, slowly, she looks up at me. "…Doc…" She says softly like a child handed a rock instead of candy. "This is cruel… even for you." She flips the pass between her fingers, miserable and dramatic, clutching the cats like they're her only comfort. She pouts, nuzzling Einari's fluffy belly. "… I get… public transportation… like some normie peasant?" She narrows her eyes as she stands, carefully placing the cats on the Screaming Throne, and skips over to me, bus pass held between her teeth like a dagger. "Mmm… Doc…" she hums, leaning in, breath warm against my ear. "You want me to practice blending in… don't you?" Her grin widens. "Riding the bus… smiling at grandmas… pretending I don't have a Giggle Saw in my fishnets!" She twirls, laughing, delighted. "Ohhh, I love it! I'll be the sweetest, most normal girl on the whole bus!" Then, dead serious, she grabs my arm. "But… if anyone touches me…talks to me… breathes wrong at me…Can I stab them just a little?"
Charlie snorts.
"Um, ah...Yeah! That's exactly what I meant!" I say with a smile. "It will help your training with blending in with people you normally would associate with. And no, part of your training is learning control, remember? Discipline and mastery over one's thoughts and emotions is key!"
Charlie chuckles some more, and I shoot him an annoyed look. "Don't you have work to do?"
He shrugs. "Yeah. I guess I'd better go do it...slave driver," he says. Then smirks at Cat. "Enjoy your commute," he says, with a grin as he chuckles and his shoulders shake with suppressed laughter as he leaves the room. We hear him walking down the stairs as it goes silent, then hear him roar with laughter.
She watches him go, eyes narrowed, calculating, as she fixes his retreating form with an icy glare.
*******
Metallica plays over the stereo at an ungodly volume that makes the room vibrate with pounding drums and thundering bass as Cat walks into the room and sees me in nothing but boxer shorts, hair tied back in a tight ponytail, doing push-ups, my toned and muscular body covered in a sheen of sweat as I push up, down, up, down, up, down, my sizeable biceps pulsing with the movements, my muscular chest heaving with each breath as she sees my herculean physique for the first time, with almost nothing on. I don't notice her presence as she stands there watching.
Cat freezes as she enters the room. She just stands there, eyes wide, unblinking, as the music pounds through her bones, syncing with the rhythm of my push-ups, the flex of my muscles, the drip of sweat down my back.
Her mouth is open. Her cheeks are flushed. Her fingers twitch at her sides, itching to touch, to dig into the power coiled beneath my skin. "...Oh..." she whispers.
I finish my set, pushing up one last time, holding it, body tense, perfect, before climbing to my feet and finally noticing her.
Cat doesn't move an inch. She just stares, lips parted, breath heavy, as I turn to face her, chest heaving with exertion, hair wet, skin slick with sweat. "Doc…" She whispers. "You're… you're glowing!" Her fingers curl into fists, nails biting into her palms. "Can I...touch you?"
"Oh!" I say, noticing Cat standing there watching me wide-eyed. I stop and stand up, switching off the music. "Er, hi!" I say, giving her a wave and a chuckle. "I didn't see you there. Is it nine already?" I grab a towel and wrap it around my waist as I wipe my brow with a hand towel.
I smile at Cat, who's staring at me with what couldn't be confused with anything but awe. "Ha ha, er....why not?" I say, stepping closer to her and presenting my sweat-sheened stomach and chest. "This is what fifteen years of relentless working out gets you."
Cat doesn't hesitate. Her fingers tremble as they reach out, hovering over my wet skin, before pressing in, slow and reverent, tracing the ridges of my abs, the curve of my pecs, and the power coiled in every cord of muscle.
"Fifteen years..." she whispers, voice thick, warm breath ghosting over my collarbone as she leans closer, drunk on the salt and heat of me. "Mmm... worth every second!"
Her thumb brushes a drop of sweat, dragging it down my sternum, slow and deliberate, before she lifts her gaze to meet mine. "Teach me," she hisses, fingers digging in just enough to sting. She presses her forehead to my shoulder, inhaling and shaking. "I want them to see me... and know... I'm yours."
I watch as she runs her fingers over the contours of my muscles, feeling the soft warmth of her hand as she runs it across my flesh, enjoying the feeling; it's somewhat sensual in a way, I realise with some nerves. I frown at her sudden intimacy, not quite sure how to react, so I step back slowly and look down at her with a nod. "I intend to. We'll begin with the most basics, showing you how to throw a punch. You learn how to do that properly, and you've already beaten half the populace."
I proceed to show her how to stand, clench a fist, throw the punch, and shift her body as she swings, so that she puts the force of not just her arm but her full body weight behind it. Showing her both jabs and longer punches as well as hooks and uppercuts with both hands and how to balance, move and position herself, having Cat practice against the boxing bag. "Good! You're doing well, Cat!" I compliment her as she pounds on the boxing bag. Her hits are coming hard, fast, and strong as she takes to it like a fish to water. "Once you get these basics down, we'll move on to combining the punches in various combos," I tell her. "I'll put some pads on, and you'll punch those as we run through combos of punches."
Cat doesn't just punch the bag; she attacks it, each strike landing with a meaty thud that echoes through the training zone like a drumbeat. Her eyes are glazed, unblinking, and locked onto the swaying target as if it's mocked her entire bloodline. "Like this?" she hisses, twisting her hips, driving her fist forward with a snarl. "CRACK!" The bag jolts, chains screaming.
It takes Cat just a couple of hours to learn fighting stances and how to throw various types of different punches properly before we move on to the pads. With one on each hand, I begin talking her through drills of punch combos.
"Right jab! Left hook! Right uppercut! Left jab!" I say, moving through the sequences of punches with her, determined to drill her until she can't physically do it any more. "Left jab! Right jab! Left jab! Right hook!" We go through just about every possible combo of punches there is, the hours passing in a blur as Cat's breathing gradually becomes heavier with fatigue and sweat soaks her clothing, matting her bangs to her forehead. Suddenly after we finish one combo, my left hand flies out for the pad to smack her in the side of the head. A test to see if she is alert and still paying attention despite her energy draining.
Cat doesn't see it coming. One second, she's panting, dripping, and grinning through the exhaustion; the next, Wack! The pad slams into her temple, sending her stumbling, head snapping to the side. Silence. Then, her shoulders start shaking. Not from pain, from laughter. "Heh... heh...heh... HAHAHAHAHA!" She whips her head back, green eyes wild, blood trickling from her split lip where she bit it. "That's more like it!" she shrieks, launching herself at me, fists flying in a blur of untamed ferocity.
"Again! Hit me again!" Her punches become faster, sharper, and meaner, like the sting of the pad unlocked something primal in her.
I'm tired from my workout session and the hours we had spent training, but her attack doesn't take me off guard. Unlike her, I'm experienced, alert, and ready. She rushes at me and attacks with an onslaught of punches that I quickly shift to block one after the other, not moving my body, but my hands flying as if of their own volition as I deflect every wild punch she throws at me. The right hand pad lashes out, flying with surprising speed and smacks her in the right side of her head, the opposite of what I did before.
The second impact snaps her head to the side, harder this time, hard enough to stagger her, but Cat doesn't fall. She lurches, spits blood, and laughs, ecstatic, before launching herself at me again, fists flailing, teeth bared in a grin that's more snarl than smile. "Yes! Yes! More! Again!" She howls, dancing around me, swinging wildly, not caring if her punches land or if she leaves herself open.
I block, sidestep, and smack her again: left, right, left; each strike sending her reeling, each impact fuelling her frenzy.
Blood drips from her nose and her lip, but she doesn't stop. After smacking her again another few times she keeps coming, and I lose all interest in the sparring match, simply stepping aside from her frenzy as she launches herself at me, grabbing her by the arm as she flies past where I used to be, flipping her up and over onto the mat with a thud as she lies sprawled on her back. I stop, place my hands at my sides and look down at her. "That's enough for today."
Cat hits the mat with a thud that knocks the wind out of her, lungs emptying in a gasp, ribs aching, vision blurring; but she doesn't stay down. She pushes herself up, shaking, bleeding and grinning. She opens her mouth to protest, then sees my face.
"Okay," she says softly. She wipes blood from her nose with the back of her hand, staring at the crimson smear like it's a trophy. "Thank you, Doc," she murmurs, not looking up, fingers tracing the bruises already blooming on her arms.
I wiggle my hand out of one pad, and it falls to the floor. I reach down with a sweat-soaked hand and offer to help her up, she takes it, and I pull her to her feet with a satisfied smile. "Good! Very good! You did great today Cat; I'm proud of you," I tell her. "You've just begun and already you show great potential, focus, drive and determination. When you're ready, my apprentice, few will be able to match you," I tell her, removing the other pad. "Scum like Gary at the gas station will fall before you like flies, utterly helpless against you." Then I look her over. "Now let's go get you showered and cleaned up."
Cat doesn't let go of my hand right away. She clings to it, tighter than necessary, fingers trembling against my palm, as my words sink in. "...Proud," she repeats, soft, wondering, as if she's never heard the word before. Then, suddenly, she lurches forward, forehead bumping against my chest. "Mmm... smells nice," she mumbles, voice slurred with exhaustion and adrenaline crash. "Like... salt and metal and...you!"
She smiles up at me. "Shower... yes... good... but, Doc?" She pokes my sternum, serious. "Next time... hit me harder." Then, before I can answer, she skips away, humming, off to the shower.
I laugh and embrace her, holding her to my naked chest and enjoying the warmth of her embrace as I look down at her and see her huge emerald eyes blinking up at me with something I recognise as adoration in them. "Oh," I think to myself, the realisation hitting me like a tonne of bricks as the obvious suddenly occurs to me. Cat doesn't just have affection for me as her master, teacher and friend, but she seems to be in love with me. Confused and anxious, I don't know quite how to deal with it. This is something that will have to wait until I have time to ponder it and its ramifications.
The building was a newer one in a better part of town, the apartment belonging to a successful businesswoman in her early 30s who now lay dead in the lounge room, her skin deathly pale and turning blue as she had been drained of much of her blood. I watched as Detective Santiago examined the body and conducted a search of the crime scene, the police having blocked off the apartment when they had learned of her murder. Hence, I had to come take a look via the verandah into the apartment on the twentieth floor.
"What's the story here?" I asked.
She jumped at the sudden sound in alarm and looked up, reaching for her gun instinctively. "Oh, it's you! Again!" she said, with a sigh of relief. "Don't do that!"
"Sorry, bad habit, I know," I said as I watched her come and unlock the door and slide it open. "Why don't you use the elevator like a normal person?" she asked.
"One, it's a secured building I'd have more trouble getting in that way. Two, too many cops down below," I said, counting the reasons on my fingers.
"And three, using the elevator wouldn't be dramatic enough," she said, with a smirk.
"I'm not a fan of drama," I protested.
She raised an appraising eyebrow. "Could've fooled me; just look at your getup. You're a costumed vigilante who runs around dressed as a medieval plague doctor," she said with a hint of amusement. "You couldn't get much more dramatic if you tried."
"Oh...okay, fine! So maybe I do like it a little, for psychological warfare type reasons," I confessed.
She didn't respond and instead looked back at the corpse. "That's the third victim this month," she said. "All three victims were found drained of their blood, the only signs of any conflict or injury being the two, deep bite marks on their necks," she said, bending down and inspecting the wound again as I entered the room and studied the corpse. "What, like a fucking vampire or something?" I asked.
She nods, her hand carefully showing me the bite marks, before she looked up. "Or someone who wants us to believe he's a vampire...because he believes it himself."
I crouched on the other side of the corpse from her to get a better look; sure enough, there were two bite marks upon the victim's neck, but not the neat puncture marks you see in vampire movies. No, these bites were like a rabid animal had tried to rip her throat out. The marks were deep, diagonal gashes in her throat where flesh had been torn and ripped apart. "What about the other two victims?" I asked, "What did they have in common with the first? What were the crime scenes like?"
Santiago thought about it for a moment. "That's the weird thing; all three victims are different. Different ages, races, sexes, professions," she told me. "It appears he has no specific type of victim in mind but is just practising opportunistic killing. He finds a tempting target that is alone and isolated, and then acts out his brutal fantasy. The other woman was a college student in her early 20s. The first victim was a black man in his early 40s. The only thing all three victims really had in common is they're remarkably attractive, like model material. That seems to be his primary motivator."
I nodded. "It makes sense; vampires are sexual creatures, romanticised in popular media. He's looking to hunt and feed on the beautiful people because they're worthy," I say, deep in thought as I study the corpse. "Any leads so far?"
She frowned. "No, and it's driving me crazy. What I've already told you and the fact that all the killings have taken place in the inner-west area is all we've got so far. No witnesses, no traceable DNA, nothing to connect the victims. Just a vague psychological profile of a dangerous and very mentally ill and delusional killer who thinks he's a vampire." She gave a sigh as she stood up and shook her head. "I've got enough on my plate already. A gang of thugs recently moved into South Scottsdale and began terrorising the locals. I'm trying to navigate that shit show without causing a bloodbath in the streets and without the larger support of the department. The local precinct is undermanned and equipped to deal with it," she said, her tone betraying her anger.
"Now that's something I can handle here and now," I say with a nod. "Focus on the case, Detective; I'll deal with the thugs and convince them to leave."
She nodded, then gave a smirk. "Just don't kill anyone if you can help it. I don't want more homicides to investigate."
A short time later, Cat's sitting in the Screaming Throne as I'm riding Bloody Mary, the name she gave the motorbike, through the streets, heading towards the neighbourhood where Detective Santiago told me a new gang of ruffians has moved in and began harassing the locals. "There are no cameras we can utilise in this neighbourhood. So you're going to have to rely on my body cam and a drone I'm activating," I explain, then add as the thought occurs to me. "Bob showed you how to pilot the drones, right?" I ask hopefully.
Cat grins, fingers dancing over the Nest's controls like a rabid pianist. "Pfft! Of course he did!" She purrs, launching the drone with a flourish of keystrokes, sending it whirlingthrough the air like a drunk wasp. She tracks the bike as I weave through the streets, her voice crackling through the comm:
"Mmm…look at you, Doc… alldark and scary on your murdercycle!" She giggles.
Then she gasps, spotting a group of figures loitering near a burned-out car. "Ooooh! Found em! Threeo'clock, lookingreallyshady and stab-worthy! So…howhard do you wannabreak them? Scale of one to 'oops,allteeth'?"
"Okay, good!" I ignore the drone as the bike weaves through the streets. "I see them; I confirm. "Six combatants...Oh, I thought I'd just try the direct approach," I say. "Something like this!" The bike's engine roars as it picks up with a burst of speed, heading straight towards the group of thugs. With a fluid motion, I lift myself out of my seat and am crouching on it as the Kawasaki hurtles towards them, then I leap out of the seat, right at the nearest one as he turns, and an expression of surprise comes over his face before my feet slam into his chest with a sickening crack of shattering ribs. The motorcycle careens off to one side, and I drop into a roll as I hit the ground like a human bowling ball, leaping to my feet in front of another and delivering a massive uppercut under his chin that snaps his head back with a crunch and pitches him into the air before he falls to the road with a thud.
The thugs are slow to react, being taken by surprise and shocked at what's happening as I move with lethal speed and precision. Within seconds two of them are down, and the others are still processing what they're seeing. One, a bit quicker than the others, points an Uzi at me, but before he can pull the trigger, a roundhouse kick sends it flying, a follow-up from my other leg side-kicking him in the gut as he doubles over with a grunt of pain. I pivot and bring the same roundhouse leg around for another roundhouse kick that smacks him in the side of the head, sending him reeling as he crashes to the ground. "Three down," I say over our communications line, having taken half of them out of action already.
Cat squeals with delight, clapping her hands as the drone captures every glorious frame of carnage. "Oh my god, Doc! That was so cool!" She shrieks, zooming in on the twitching bodies with giddy abandon. "Like Wack! Socko! And...wait!" Her eyes widen, spotting movement on the northern street. "Doc! Two more ding-dongs incoming from the north! One's got a shotgun!" Then she gasps, noticing the thug I kicked stirring and reaching for his Uzi. "Doc! Uzi guy's waking up! Kick his ass again!"
I rush towards the others, one of them pointing a Glock at me and firing as I step inside his reach, palming his arm aside as the bullet zips by and into the street. I twist around and smash my elbow into his throat, crushing his windpipe as he clutches at his neck and falls onto his knees, gasping for air. A snap kick to the face lays him out on the sidewalk as one of his friends opens fire with a large-calibre revolver. He's nervous and rushing. So even though I'm close, most of his shots miss me, one round hitting me in the side that hits like a punch that, to his horror, I shrug off and keep coming for him. I jump at him and kick the gun out of his hand as I spin myself around like a tornado and come down in front of him at a crouch as a volley of Uzi fire from the guy Cat warned me about tears him to shreds, flying over my head. My head snaps into the Uzi guy's direction as I bring up a forearm and launch a dart from it that takes him in the neck. He wobbles on his feet, then crashes to the ground.
Cat screams into the comm, half horrified, half ecstatic, as the bullet tears into my side. "Doc! No!" she cries, then, freezing as I shrug it off. "Oh my god! You're so cool! Like a zombie, but sexy! And without the rot and dead body thing!" Her drone zooms in on the dart thug collapsing, giggling as his face plants into the pavement. "Ooooh! New toy! Can I have one? Pretty please? I promise I'll only use it on people who deserve it! Like… tax collectors! And men who don't wash their hands!"
The last two thugs are armed with melee weapons, one of them waving a Bowie knife and the other shaking a crowbar at me as I crouch in a fighting stance and beckon them forth. They're smart as they both run at me at once, coming from either side as I'm forced to defend myself on two fronts simultaneously. Unfortunately for them, I've faced this scenario a few times, and they likely have no combat training or real fighting experience. The guy with the knife gets to me first, thrusting the blade at me like an amateur, as I side-step it and kick him in the guts with one fluid motion before jumping forward and delivering another to his jaw that breaks it with a crack and sends him flying onto his back. I barely have time to bring my right forearm up and take the first blow from the crowbar before the guy's swinging at me like a madman. I step back, avoiding one swing and dodging left and right, before stepping in towards him and kneeing him in the groin hard, doubling him over. My other knee comes up in a jig-like dance and shatters his nose, spreading it all over his face in a cascade of blood as his eyes roll back in his head and he drops to the ground. Now there are only the two late arrivals left as they make it to the fight. I turn to face them as the shotgun guy pumps the gun, ready to use it, and the other guy pulls out an MP5 sub-machine gun. Before I can move the shotgun barks, unleashing its deadly payload of buckshot that hits me like a truck, the kinetic energy of the blast knocking me right onto my back.
The two thugs stand there watching and laugh together. "Well, he ain't so fuckin' tough after all," the guy with the sub-machine gun says.
Cat screeches, fingers clawing at the monitor as the shotgun blast sends me flying. "Noooo! Doc, get up! Get up! I'll kill them all! I'll rip their spines out through their mouths!"
"Ow!" I cry with a tone of pained annoyance. "I really hate shotguns," I tell her, then pause. "I'm okay, Cat. Remember Charlie showed you, the nanotubes? Three times stronger than Kevlar," I remind her.
"Think he's dead?" The shotgun guy asks. "That should've ripped some major holes in him, but I don't see shit," he observes with a frown. "He will be for sure after I pump an entire clip into him," the guy with the sub-machine gun says, beginning to walk towards me.
I suddenly sit up, as if I've been hit by a bolt of lightning and resurrected. "What the..." the machine gun guy says, before I hurl something through the air that explodes right in front of them, a flash-bang going off with an intense glow in the darkness, blinding them both for a few seconds. But that's all I need. I leap to my feet and zig-zag towards the closest guy as he looks around in a blinded daze, hearing my footsteps as he brings the gun up and fires, a hail of bullets passing me by. I leap into the air and land with a foot in his face that drops him like a sack of potatoes, knocking him out cold. The shotgun guy cocks it again as his vision begins to clear and I rush him, moving faster than he can follow as I grab the barrel of the gun and shove it upwards as it fires, the buckshot sailing into the air. I kick him in the sternum, making him release the gun with a pained grunt as I press home my attack, smacking him in the nose and delivering a nasty right hook to the temple that sends him crashing to the ground.
Cat cheers, jumping up and down in the Nest as she watches me wreck the thugs with gleeful abandon. "Yes! Fuck them up! Kick their asses! Make them eat their own teeth!" she howls with glee as she zooms in with the drone. "Doc! …behind you!"
Her fingers hover over the drone's stun button, tempted, but holding back.
I turn to face him and repeat the move with the dart. It takes him in the chest as he wobbles, takes several drowsy steps, then falls flat on his face with a thud. I kneel over the guy who'd had the shotgun, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck as I slap him roughly to bring him around. "I am the harbinger of death and pain to those who would prey upon the innocent," I snarl at him, my voice coming through deep and gravelly. "Heed this night as a warning to you and your little gang. Leave this neighbourhood and never return, or I'll come back and finish what I started. You'll get a one-way ticket to the graveyard!" I growl.
He looks up at me with hazy eyes and nods drowsily. "Yuh...yee...Yes, sir!" he manages to sputter, before he collapses into unconsciousness. My business here done, I return to the bike, climbing onto it and revving the engine as the back wheel spins and does a burnout before spinning on its axis and exploding down the street like a bullet, as I pull off a wheelie as I leave the scene.