Robert Crane - Alone

The smell was worse down here, and my eyes wandered over our assorted weapons, hanging from hooks on the far wall. Katanas, nunchuks, scythe, rapiers and so many more. Mats covered the floors in the middle of the room and pipes crisscrossed the ceiling overhead from the exposed beams of the floor above. A slight clinking could be heard from overhead, as well as soft footsteps of the agents treading upstairs.

A couple of buried windows provided a little bit of light in the back, but they were covered by a film of white, providing enough opacity that it was impossible to distinguish anything through them. For illumination there were three naked bulbs swinging from the ceiling. In the far corner I could see the faint outline of a blocky shape in the shadows and the tremor got a little worse; I shook for a second.

I had halted in place and I felt Zack’s hand brush my shoulder. I looked back in slight surprise and found his eyes looking into mine. My goodness, they were pretty. “Hurry up, okay?” His face was all sincerity, so I shook off my reverie and pushed myself to cross the mats to the far wall. I pulled a katana off the hooks and slid it into the loops of the bag, then threw a pair of sais and a dagger into it as well.

Zack watched me with wide eyes and a look of abject absurdity. “If you wanted weapons, we had plenty back at the Directorate…”

“Just figured I’d get them while I’m here,” I replied. “Besides, Kurt’s not too keen on me being armed.”

“I’m not that excited about it either,” he admitted with a wry grin. “But that’s because I’ve felt what you can do with those sticks.”

“In fairness, you did break into my house.”

“Yeah, I…” His words trailed off as he looked into the corner. “What is that?” He started across the mats to join me on the far wall, but I met him halfway.

“Nothing. I’m done, we can go.”

“No, wait.” He was peering into the darkness.

“It’s really nothing. You were worried about Wolfe, weren’t you?” I plastered a smile on my face. “We should go.”

“Just a minute.” He reached up and grasped one of the overhead lights, pointing it toward the corner. He took a step closer and I withheld any additional protests and felt myself brace internally. I turned away and shut my eyes, facing the stairs and took a couple steps in that direction. There was an agonizing and sudden tightness in my belly. “What…is…this?” Zack’s voice was low, but rising with each syllable, incredulous. I heard the squeak of hinges behind me, then retching from Zack, then a firm declaration. “Oh my God. Oh my God.”

I squeezed my eyes shut tighter.

“OH. MY. GOD!” The last declaration was the most frightening, but it was nothing compared to the sound that followed it.

“I’m not a god, but it’s always nice to get a compliment.” I opened my eyes to find twin pools of blackness staring into mine from just a few feet away as he descended the stairwell. “Hello, little doll,” Wolfe breathed. “Time to play.”

“Hello, big poodle,” I replied, edge in my voice. “Time for your ass to get housebroken.” My hand had been clutching the katana and it slid from its scabbard, all thoughts of Zack’s discovery filed away to be dealt with later. I whipped the blade across Wolfe’s chest as he dodged, fast as I remembered.

Unfortunately for him, he dodged into the bag I threw with my outstretched hand. He recoiled when it hit, making me believe that one of the eskrima sticks got a piece of his face. Not enough to do any damage, but enough to piss him off. He grabbed the strap as it fell and winged it back at me with a little extra mustard. I dodged as it flew by, katana in my hands and a self-satisfied smile on my lips.

“You’re awfully confident,” Wolfe said as he slid sideways in a feint, “considering last time we met I left you broken on the pavement.”

“It was two days ago,” I cooed, “and I’m all better, so I don’t think you broke me.”

“She likes it rough,” he said with enough suggestion that I doubly wanted to chop him into ground beef.

“Last time we met,” Zack said from Wolfe’s side, shotgun in his hand, raising it toward the beastly, hairy face, “I ran your canine ass off, in case you forgot.”

“Wolfe doesn’t forget,” the beast said with a smile. “He was feeling a bit out of sorts and couldn’t play; otherwise he would have enjoyed eating your entrails.” Wolfe cocked his hand back and flung it at Zack faster than the agent could dodge. The hit blasted the young man in the face and the crunch told me something broke – either the cartilage in his nose or a bone in his cheek – and the Directorate agent crumpled to the ground. But not before the shotgun discharged into Wolfe’s side, leaving holes in his already dirty shirt. No blood trickled out.

I met Wolfe’s eyes as he lunged for me. I evaded and clipped him with my sword, ripping his shirt further. He didn’t even finish his landing before he reached for me again. His arms were long but my sword was longer and it dragged across his wrist as I dodged him again.

I looked at the place where the blade had kissed him but there was no evident sign of contact; only immaculate skin with twisted black hairs all over it. He caught me looking and made a very predatorial tsk-tsk sound. “Wolfe has very thick skin, little doll. Bullets don’t hurt him much.” He reached down and lifted his shirt where the shotgun blast had impacted. It was very hairy, but the only things visible were small red discolorations – not even a break in the skin.

My mind reeled. He’s not vulnerable to the shotgun , I thought. Maybe a pistol or a rifle – if I had one . Desperation filled me. My sword doesn’t seem to do much in glancing blows – but maybe a full on, impaling strike…but doing that would put me in reach of his arms, unless I did it from behind…

I was faster than him, I reflected as he jumped for me and I dodged him again. Every time he lunged he had to commit all his momentum to his forward motion, and when he missed he was off balance for just a second. I slipped to his right on his next lunge and drove my sword down with all my strength, aiming at his Achilles tendon at the back of his leg. My sword blade sliced through his baggy, dirty pants and caught him right above the heel.

I felt the blade stop against my gloves as though I had driven the sword into a steel block. A grunt from Wolfe was all the acknowledgment I got for my efforts and I rolled to my right as he turned and I narrowly dodged a wild swing from him.

“Little doll,” he growled, the menace in his voice sending chills through me, “Wolfe’s amusement is running low…Wolfe is bleeding…and Wolfe doesn’t like bleeding…a few drops of his blood is of more worth than this entire, stinking gutter trash city…”

I chanced to look down at my handiwork on his ankle, but what was there could scarcely be described as bleeding. A few drops no bigger than the head of a pin dotted the mat where he was standing. His grin had faded, replaced by a look of savagery that brought back the fear of our first encounter full force. I was face to face with a seemingly unkillable menace – what was I supposed to do now? Run for the stairs? He’d catch me on the turn.

My breathing had become ragged, not from exertion but from fear. I put myself in this situation because I was sure I could beat him. Now I was almost sure I couldn’t. Unless…

I lunged forward before he made another move, holding my sword at maximum extension and aiming for his eye. I might not be able to break his skin, but the eyes were always a weak point…

Once more I felt the blade stop as though it hit an immovable object. I opened my eyes (I hadn’t realized I closed them when I lunged – Mother would have been very upset with me) and saw his hand wrapped around my katana, the tip stopped only inches from his right eye. I pushed it harder, and watched as a thin trickle of red ran down his wrist. He yanked the blade down to his chest level and pulled it toward him. I let it go, but not before he had pulled me off balance and brought me within his reach.