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Authors: Matt Stephens
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result."
"We've had two brownouts this week. People are starting to worry." Keeper grated. "Wotcha, find out who-no, she's not here. Yasi, next time you see Wotcha, let her know that Papa Edison will be having a ‘clerical error' soon; misplacing a few more cables."
Yasi nodded. "Anyone else have anything to say that involves me?"
Loud silence.
Yasi rose fluidly from her seat and headed for the rope ladders. "I'll be back later."
~oo00oo~
Wotcha was as still as she could get. Pretending to sleep hadn't worked. They'd sought her out deliberately.
"Come out and play old woman." The gang leader cackled. He was the eldest, and had a Mohawk. He was enjoying his moment of power. Wotcha pressed back against the wall and tried to take stock of them from where she was, hidden at the end of a dumpster. Four of them, plus the leader. Mohawk was crowing from behind all four of them. Three were pushing the youngest one forward.
"I… I don't know." The kid was whispering. Wotcha almost felt sorry for him. He was barely sixteen, and in way over his head.
"Kid, who are you gonna go back to? Your idiot stepfather? Who looks after you? Who keeps you fed? Who gives you a place to sleep?"
The kid looked down. "You do Bi-"
"No names." Barked Mohawk. "These are the rules. Nobody's gonna know it's you. Nobody's even gonna notice."
Wotcha slipped one hand under her dirty jacket. A gang initiation. She thought. Kill a homeless person to be part of the gang. She had heard of such things, but never had it happened to her until now.
"You leave me alone." She croaked at them. Inwardly, she knew they were right. In this neighborhood, nobody would see anything. Nobody would even be surprised.
The five of them closed in on her. She moved swiftly, drawing the small crossbow from under her jacket. A bolt was already notched.
Mohawk's jaw dropped. "Is that a-"
Thwapp!
One of them howled as the crossbow bolt speared into his kneecap. Wotcha came up with a can of mace, no longer as helpless and weak as she'd seemed a moment ago.
The gang fell back in shock as she sprayed, missing her target. She may have been cunning, but she was outnumbered five to one, and they were all younger than her by decades.
She felt a hand grasp her wrist, hard and painful, and she pulled, trying to get leverage, the can went flying. Pain exploded in her fingers as the thug twisted. She swung her other hand around. The crossbow hadn't been reloaded, but the bow was made of metal, and it served to get her some room.
For a moment there was a break in the battle. What was meant as an easy gang initiation had turned into an actual fight. They were angry, they were cautious, and they were embarrassed. They were ready to kill now.
Wotcha's eyes flicked to the can of mace. Too far to get to before they got her. She gripped the crossbow. Too close to get it loaded and aimed. She was in trouble.
And then from above came a dark shape. Quick as a rattlesnake, it dropped from the rooftop above and hit the one closest to Wotcha, landing on him between the shoulder blades. He went down instantly and didn't move as Yasi balanced on him.
The four of them quickly fanned out as best they could in the alley, reacting to this new menace.
"Walk away." Yasi snarled, cold and deadly. "Do it now and you may keep your limbs."
They attacked. She was more than willing to meet them halfway.
They attacked her roughly, trying to simply overpower her. The warrior woman moved like quicksilver, her slender body folding into impossible dodges and evasions. They kept thrashing, trying to make contact with her somehow, but she simply kept moving. In the darkened corners of the alley, nobody could say for sure where she really was, getting tangled in each other.
And then she struck back.
They couldn't believe how much power she packed in her blows, getting in too close for them to muster any kind of serious punches. She struck tactically, using her elbows and knees to deliver one short sharp
"We've had two brownouts this week. People are starting to worry." Keeper grated. "Wotcha, find out who-no, she's not here. Yasi, next time you see Wotcha, let her know that Papa Edison will be having a ‘clerical error' soon; misplacing a few more cables."
Yasi nodded. "Anyone else have anything to say that involves me?"
Loud silence.
Yasi rose fluidly from her seat and headed for the rope ladders. "I'll be back later."
~oo00oo~
Wotcha was as still as she could get. Pretending to sleep hadn't worked. They'd sought her out deliberately.
"Come out and play old woman." The gang leader cackled. He was the eldest, and had a Mohawk. He was enjoying his moment of power. Wotcha pressed back against the wall and tried to take stock of them from where she was, hidden at the end of a dumpster. Four of them, plus the leader. Mohawk was crowing from behind all four of them. Three were pushing the youngest one forward.
"I… I don't know." The kid was whispering. Wotcha almost felt sorry for him. He was barely sixteen, and in way over his head.
"Kid, who are you gonna go back to? Your idiot stepfather? Who looks after you? Who keeps you fed? Who gives you a place to sleep?"
The kid looked down. "You do Bi-"
"No names." Barked Mohawk. "These are the rules. Nobody's gonna know it's you. Nobody's even gonna notice."
Wotcha slipped one hand under her dirty jacket. A gang initiation. She thought. Kill a homeless person to be part of the gang. She had heard of such things, but never had it happened to her until now.
"You leave me alone." She croaked at them. Inwardly, she knew they were right. In this neighborhood, nobody would see anything. Nobody would even be surprised.
The five of them closed in on her. She moved swiftly, drawing the small crossbow from under her jacket. A bolt was already notched.
Mohawk's jaw dropped. "Is that a-"
Thwapp!
One of them howled as the crossbow bolt speared into his kneecap. Wotcha came up with a can of mace, no longer as helpless and weak as she'd seemed a moment ago.
The gang fell back in shock as she sprayed, missing her target. She may have been cunning, but she was outnumbered five to one, and they were all younger than her by decades.
She felt a hand grasp her wrist, hard and painful, and she pulled, trying to get leverage, the can went flying. Pain exploded in her fingers as the thug twisted. She swung her other hand around. The crossbow hadn't been reloaded, but the bow was made of metal, and it served to get her some room.
For a moment there was a break in the battle. What was meant as an easy gang initiation had turned into an actual fight. They were angry, they were cautious, and they were embarrassed. They were ready to kill now.
Wotcha's eyes flicked to the can of mace. Too far to get to before they got her. She gripped the crossbow. Too close to get it loaded and aimed. She was in trouble.
And then from above came a dark shape. Quick as a rattlesnake, it dropped from the rooftop above and hit the one closest to Wotcha, landing on him between the shoulder blades. He went down instantly and didn't move as Yasi balanced on him.
The four of them quickly fanned out as best they could in the alley, reacting to this new menace.
"Walk away." Yasi snarled, cold and deadly. "Do it now and you may keep your limbs."
They attacked. She was more than willing to meet them halfway.
They attacked her roughly, trying to simply overpower her. The warrior woman moved like quicksilver, her slender body folding into impossible dodges and evasions. They kept thrashing, trying to make contact with her somehow, but she simply kept moving. In the darkened corners of the alley, nobody could say for sure where she really was, getting tangled in each other.
And then she struck back.
They couldn't believe how much power she packed in her blows, getting in too close for them to muster any kind of serious punches. She struck tactically, using her elbows and knees to deliver one short sharp
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