”I do NOT have time for this shit. I do NOT have time for your shit! I do NOT have time for ANY shit!”
With that, Nanami punched the first would-be rapist in the chest.
HARD.
Breastbone popped audible, collarbone snapped, and lungs emptied before the large man was lifted off his feet, flew through the air, and slammed into the alleyway wall.
The other man gapped as his partner became a projectile, before turning to the offense, his pipe-bludgeon spinning like a movie-ninja’s weapon in front of him as he advanced.
Nanami met him halfway, her fist punching through the pipe’s dubious defensive shield, and smashing into his ribs. He wailed high-toned as his ribs cracked and he smacked into the other wall, his pipe ringing as it bounced off the ground.
”Shit! She’s a SYNTHETIC!” one of the trio behind her yelled. That was the warning she got as two of them charged her.
A hammer bounced off her shoulder as she spun around and kicked out hard. The man might have been wearing reinforced boots, but not reinforced pants, and yet another cracking noise told of a broken femur. A sudden scream and a growing spot of red on his pants clarified it as a greenstick fracture.
The other man was hampered trying to get around his screaming colleague. Nanami took advantage of this by grabbing the lamed man by the face and pushing, practically HEAVING him, back into the face of the other man.
Back of skull meet front of teeth, watch teeth fly, see blood spray as nose breaks. Hello, floor of alley. A follow-up kick to the ribs stopped efforts to get back into the fight.
It was brutal and lacked grace, all force and no style, but it was short and it got the job done.
Nanami now faced the man who had called her a synthetic. She glared at him. He stared back at her, standing over his moaning, groaning, screaming, compatriots. Nanami didn’t need enhanced senses to smell the fear wafting him as he trembled in place.
”I. Have. Cramps.” Nanami growled.
That was enough to break the remaining bandit’s nerve. He turned and ran like hell, nearly knocking himself out as he slipped and tripped over debris in the alleyway on his way out.
Nanami looked down at her four would-be attackers and at her bunched fist. She wasn’t even breathing hard after all that, and the place she’d been tagged on the shoulder didn’t even register as pain; she doubted she’d even bruise.
”I think I’ll call you my Fist of Death.”
With that, Nanami stepped over the not-so-menacing-anymore bandits and made her way out of the alley.
The encounter had worked off some frustration, but not nearly enough. She had a private room to find, and some serious self-help to administer before she could confidently call herself feeling rational again. And to hell with anybody who got in her way!
Ranma and Kodachi looked up as they felt the surge of anger and incipient violence echo through their heads. For a moment they tensed and glared around, looking for any possible threats in their vicinity.
Their fellow passengers on the shuddering, creaking, trolley-bus into the local township were suddenly aware of the newcomers somehow taking on a decidedly DANGEROUS aspect, like that of a cocked and coiled snake, ready to strike, or scorpions with upraised stingers. There was a frantic pushing and edging AWAY from the two.
Then the moment passed. There was a feeling of adrenaline release, of satisfaction, and of danger passed. Ranma and Kodachi relaxed, standing down, and slumping back to the business of looking bored.
But the other passengers continued to give them a WIDE berth.
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(Posted Tue, 26 Jan 2010 15:04)
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らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
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