The Spiralling
Chapter 9: Where Paths Cross
After having his fill of how much technology has advanced thus far, the Grandmaster hailed a cab so that he may reach the suburban areas of the city- where he used to live. It may be past midnight, but his heart was still burning, his mind kept fresh by a certain longing in his heart. Warming himself to the city, seeing how much it had grown and changed was just the beginning, an appetiser for who he will soon meet. The purpose of his excursion was not just to check on how much time has changed the city, but it was also so that he may see his ex-wife and daughter, who should be twelve according to the letters he received from her.
The taxi driver he hired was an even elder man than he is a scotch-drinking bum who doesn't really fit well with the job he does. After heading the wrong way several times, Aldan was able to finally alight in his neighbourhood, perhaps a little way off from his former address. He would have to walk a mile or two to get to his family of old. After paying the cabby thrice of what could have been the price had he hired a more efficient driver, the teacher got off the reeking old taxi. Almost as lazy as the driver himself, it drove off barely after the customer had closed the back door.
After having a look around, the Grandmaster was able to make out his old neighbourhood- the same one as Dave Lizewski lives in. It took him a bit of time to remember how to return to his home however, and when he did, the old man had to cut through a few alleyways that he was still familiar with.
As a child, he had explored every inch of this neighbourhood. Whenever new houses were built or old ones were replaced, he would be the first one to know. In the early 90s, the suburbia's layout had more or less stabilised, so he could easily navigate his way through without getting lost due to any changes he was unaware of. As he strolled through alleyways after alleyways, street after street, he was always gazing at something to reminiscent upon the distant past. Most things had changed at least slightly, save for the sky. Tears would fill his eyes when he saw his favourite haunts as a young adult vandalised, and joy would fill his lungs when some of them he passed through weren't.
He was always thinking, feeling, until he came upon an alleyway, where there was some scuffling and painful squealing around a bend. He could see the shadows, and it wasn't what he expected. He could roughly tell that the victim was a lean man wearing cargo pants and jacket from the shadow, while the attacker was... much shorter, perhaps draped with a cape of some sort. She had long, flowing hair, and a pair of slightly curved swords which were pinning the victim into the wall through both his shoulders. Being a practical fighter, he was trained to read such subtle clues.
Drawing his very own sword, a large claymore that looks like it came straight out of Braveheart, the Swordmaster sneaked his way towards the source of the commotion close to the wall, being very careful not to knock over any trash or step on any discarded plastic bags- there was no intention to backstab, only the objective of confronting the attacker of the poor man. As he made his way closer to the shadows, depressing thoughts were creeping into his mind- how much his city had changed, and how not all of them were for the better. Crime had certainly diminished compared to the turbulent past, but children weren't wielding such large blades back then, maybe mostly teenagers on crack and beer.
"Don't make me cut off your dick, you fuck!" A girl's voice, rougher beyond anyone's imagination, snarled at the defenceless victim. Aldan knew he had to stop her quick enough or the worst might happen- the man would either have his member or soul removed, "How many men?"
"I don't- hunngh! Know! Honest!" The victim squealed like a pig to the slaughter. In a way, he really was on the way to the slaughterhouse.
"Oh? Oh, really?" The girl chortled menacingly. The Grandmaster could tell that she left the man pinned on the wall and took out something. Flipping the device about, it morphed into a knife- he could remember from his study of bladed weapons that it was a butterfly knife, "How much's your manhood worth?"
"That's enough, little girl." The Grandmaster demanded as he stepped out of the darkness, his massive two-handed sword flashing. Anyone would be intimidated by Aldan's display of force, but apparently the pale girl in black and silver wasn't. Instead, a rather disturbing smirk formed on her face, "Put down that knife, and we'll talk about your future in this fair city."
"What will you do? Spank me?" She said, and without warning or hesitation, she delivered the butterfly knife with expert precision and skill at Aldan. Sensing her non-compliance early, the Swordsman blocked the projectile aimed at his right eye with a horizontal stroke of his giant blade. Drawing her twin blades from the wall and trapped man, the insane (from Grandmaster's point of view) girl charged at him, swords at her side. Whirling around, she brought down both her Asian-styled swords at Aldan like a praying mantis with ten years of martial arts background, but her deadly strike was blocked by an equally skilled block.
After their sword clashed, the Grandmaster pushed the silver-haired girl back through their swords with enough force to throw her backwards, and as she was regaining her balance, he proceeded to twirl around and deliver what could easily have been a fatal slash, but was instead more of a slap with the sword blade as he wanted to incapacitate more than wound. It was dodged deftly as his opponent let herself fall; the blade swept past her face by a mere inch as she fell to the ground and landed softly. As the two sword-fighters were duelling, the wounded victim made a run for safety, clutching both his bleeding shoulders as he did so.
Twisting about into a kneeling position, the apparent twelve-year-old delivered an unexpected 180 degrees slash at the Grandmaster's shin. Had it not been for his greaves, his master right leg could have been severed. Instead, he was knocked off balance; he fell on his right knee, but with proper balance he was able to break his fall without injuring that knee despite his advanced age. By this point, Aldan was unpleasantly surprised by the girl's skill. Taking advantage of his poor position, the girl delivered a twin overhead blow, forcing the Grandmaster to defend himself with an overhead block with his singular claymore.
Her speed and wit was too fast for the old man. Kicking herself into a low jump, she thrust a leg into the Grandmaster's face, knocking him down. Out of desperation, the teacher gave a hard kick from where he was lying, which unexpectedly worked, followed by another smash with his claymore blade as he pushed himself up into a sitting position, aiming to incapacitate again, but it was again easily knocked way out of its arc as it was not a quick blow but a clumsy one reliant on strength by the girl's standard. With his sword too far to his right to block his body, he was in clear danger of anything between dismemberment and death.
The impossibly nimble girl tried for a stab through the Grandmaster's throat, but Aldan still had one small trick of his rare trade up his sleeve. Despite his dependence on swords and strength, he still possess enough in the way of the wind to use it. Dodging the stab, he rolled sideways only to be challenged by a horizontal slash- this he blocked with his armguard, and the follow-up slash as Demoness spun around for a more powerful with her left sword with his claymore over-handed.
There was a brief respite in the young girl's attack and Aldan took advantage of it by kicking her in the face, sending her rolling backwards and on the defensive. As she was recovering, the Grandmaster aimed an overhead blow at her but being especially nimble, she was easily able to avoid it. Sheathing her swords, she pulled out a pistol instead.
"You dishonourable-" was all Aldan could say before a bullet grazed him in the right arm, the explosive pain forcing him to drop his beloved beast of a medieval killer-weapon.
"I'd love to play, but you're boring," she shifted her aim a little as a crazed half-smile formed on her ghastly face.
Behind Demoness...
As I was returning home from an uneventful patrol, I was returning home when I saw a wounded guy running out of an alley holding his shoulders as though his arms would pop out. In the alley he was running away for dear life, I heard some grunts, and the swishing of blades as though a martial arts movie was playing inside. Before I even saw her I knew it was the Demoness again- who else could wield a pair of katanas the way Blade did?
By the time I rushed into the alley, one of the Demoness' victims was sitting with his leg sprawled out, in a position that could easily be the end of him. My guess was that he fought her and lost. He was mere seconds from death, so I did the only thing I could think of. I made a dash of faith for her, and launched myself at the twelve-year-old, knocking her down by the old man she was threatening to kill. I laid on top of her and held both her wrists to the ground in an attempt to pin her down, but with an elbow in my badly bruised and yet-to-recover solar plexus she was able to dislodge me and roll me to the side, against the wall. Against my expectations, she ran away soon afterwards. I was thinking along the lines of getting murdered.
"She's after him!" The old man I saved warned me as he was getting up, a giant sword I failed to notice previously in tow. I realised he could be one of us, the 'supers', and chances were, he was a superhero- what with his costume that came straight out of the sets in New Zealand where the Lord of the Rings movies were shot. I could only follow him, it wasn't hard. He was downright cool, along the lines of Aragorn, plus, he had the same goals as I have. Anyone could easily guess that a team up was in order.
The lean dude Demoness was after was in a street after another alleyway. He had ran into an African-American police officer and his partner who were most likely responding to a call made against Demoness. We could hear the voices. I could understand why he was begging to be arrested- it's either the jail cell or a gruesome death by a thousand knives.
We were far too slow, the way superheroes were when up against serial villains. Before we could even see what happened, there were gunshots, and screams. At least one of the three men was down. There was silence followed by another body collapsing and the gangster spilling the beans, then silence again. By the time we were on scene, one of the cops was beheaded, the other peppered with gunshot wounds and the gangster was dying from an open windpipe and stab in the stomach.
The beheaded cop was no doubt beyond saving, but we still had two lives on our heads when the Demoness left with whatever she had came for. A bystander had already called an ambulance, but the two unlikely survivors of the encounter wouldn't last very long. The way I see it, they didn't survive, and neither was their encounter with the devil the worst moment of their lives. Putting their lives in my hands was the worst part. With zero training in first-aid despite all the opportunities in school and community centres, there was nothing I could do, if it weren't for my new superhero friend.
"Check the officer, I will handle this young man." The Boromir knock-off ordered me as he got on his knees and tried to close up the hole in the gangster's throat, but even I know he was a hopeless case. He died within seconds almost from suffocation, but more from the shock that came with excessive bleeding. It was a trademark of my nemesis- slow death, maximum pain. It was a modus operandi that would scare even the Punisher into a full retreat.
"Hey, Daddyoh, this one's alive and..." I paused after realising the gravely wounded officer was Sergeant Marcus- of all the thousands of blues in the city. He was barely conscious, and had bullet holes in both his legs, his right lung and a few around his stomach part of the body (I'm not good with biology). Mindy would be devastated whether he lives or not. I tried pressing down on the chest wound. Wasn't it common sense that if there's a hole in the hull of a ship, you patch it up? My good friend from the Kingdom of Heaven who seems to know what he was doing didn't seem to mind, "... He's someone I know..."
The ambulance arrived ten disappointing minutes later. It was a miracle that no one else died, thanks in part to the Grandmaster, as he named himself.