CHAPTER 6
“Well what have we got here,” the first of the men declared, “trespassers, is what it looks like.” The guy was tall, wiry. Muscular but thin. His hair was dark and greasy. His face lined with creases that seemed born of long buried anger. He was dressed in jeans and a faded green t-shirt, the large logo emblazoned on the shirt faded beyond recognition. His companions were equally intimidating. One was shorter but solidly built. Heavy but not overweight. Dressed in a similar casual attire, but his gray t-shirt had no logo on it. He carried a crowbar. The third guy was of average build, with short brown hair and matching mustache. He was the only one of the three wearing a jacket, a red leather thing with an abundance of pockets and zippers. I noticed tattoos peeking out from the jacket at his hands and neck. I couldn't tell what they depicted.
“Oh I think you might be a bit confused on that point,” Dee said without getting up, “I took ownership just today. I can even show you the paperwork if you like.” Her demeanor was cheerful and innocent, as if she was totally unaware of their intimidating nature.
“We don't care about no paperwork,” replied the one in the gray shirt. “We run this neighborhood, and we don't know you. That makes you a trespasser.” They continued approaching us, putting themselves between us and the door. Gray shirt raised his crowbar menacingly.
Dee continued to act as if none of this was at all disturbing. “Oh I am sure we can talk this out,” she replied, “Here, have some noodles. We've got plenty.” She slid the carton toward them. The guy in the red jacket looked at it, then took a step and kicked it like he was trying for a field goal. Noodles sprayed out in a blizzard of pasta, some hitting me and Dee. He laughed at the result.
At about this point, the pace of events picks up, so from here on I think I will just refer to each of the miscreants by the color of their shirt or jacket.
Dee calmly wiped a stray noodle from her face. “Well, if it's going to be that sort of party, we'll need different music,” she declared. She reached down to her phone and tapped it a few times. The oriental ballad was replaced with a thumping techno dance mix. She cranked the volume up as loud as the tiny speakers could handle, then stood.
Without thinking, I stood as well and stepped between Dee and Red.
“Hey, we were just leaving,” I started to say, just in time to see Red's fist flying toward my face. I flinched, knowing I would not be able to stop it... but it wooshed past my face without hitting, and I suddenly found myself sprawled backwards and sitting on the concrete floor again. Dee was in motion, one hand coming away from my shoulder even as the other was grabbing Red's wrist and dragging him off balance.
Red stumbled but stayed on his feet and spun around to face Dee again. Meanwhile, Gray was swinging his crowbar at her... but he met only air. Dee danced away from him, dropped to the ground, swung a leg out and caught Red right behind his knees. Red toppled over backwards, flailing his arms and yelling as he fell.
Now Green was getting in on the action. He seemed to know some martial arts, and he came at Dee with a furious series of punches and kicks, but none landed. Dee was constantly moving, dancing really, her movements seemingly choreographed to the thumping bass of the music. Green's charge ended with Dee flipping him over her shoulder, his feet flying up as he crashed down on the concrete. He just laid there moaning.
Dee turned back toward Gray and Red. Gray raised his crowbar, but seemed uncertain about what to do. Red was just getting back on his feet.
“Enough of this bullshit,” Red yelled as he began reaching into his jacket.
My gut twisted as I realized what he must be reaching for. I was so fixated on Red that I almost missed what happened next.
Dee leaped into motion, only she didn't run at Red, she ran instead straight toward Gray. Gray lifted his crowbar to fend her off, but Dee actually leaped past him, grabbing the crowbar and twisting it from his grip as she did. She tucked her shoulder down and rolled, kicked Gray's feet out from under him, and threw that crowbar, all in one motion. The metal bar spun through the air, hitting Red's hand just as he started to raise his gun. I could hear bones snap as it hit. Red howled, and the gun went flying and then skidding across the floor well away from the fight. Dee popped back up, did a series of gymnastic flips to cross the distance between herself and Red, stopping only when her feet landed on Red's chest to drive him to the ground. He lay there gasping, the wind knocked out of him.
Dee stood. On the ground lay three thugs in various states of pain and gasping. I still sat on the floor where she had shoved me to safety.
She turned to me, winked, and stated, “Like I was saying, Barry... I'm a superhero.”
Devious Origins Page 10