Asorotany slams his elbow to the man’s temple, sending him topple to the ground. The woman buckles forward on her knees, a heave tears out of her mouth. Her brown hair tumbles over her shoulders, sticking to her neck and collarbone.
“Ma’am,” He bends, placing a hand on her back. “I need you to call 911, okay? Can you do that?”
She gasps, bobbing frantically. Her lips part but no complete word can come out.
The man groans, struggling to get up.
The woman clutches her chest and whimpers.
Asorotany nudges her to her feet, accessing the mess between her legs. She sobs, blushing, as she stands. Her hands are shaking as she zips her pants. Body fluid seeps through the fabric, marking dark spots on her neon blue suit.
“Fucking son of a bitch,” The man snarls, lunging forward, tackling Asorotany. Pain erupts everywhere. Above, below, right, left. He blinks, gets a good glimpse of his surrounding before a blow strikes his nose. His vision glitches black.
The rapist roars, enunciates his words with a punch. Asorotany raises his arms, protecting his face, but being pinned to the ground is already added to his disadvantages. The man’s erection is pressing hard against his stomach.
Asorotany wants a fight today. He wants a fight, he wants bruises, he wants pain. And he’s a damn good fighter, for the matter.
He bucks his hips, wiggles for an angle to uproot the man. His opponent is twice as big as him, three times heavier. Doesn’t matter.
The moment the man’s fist cocks back, preparing for another blow, Asorotany’s fingers dart toward his eyes. His nails sink into the jelly substance.
The rapist springs away, yowling, clutching his face. Asorotany rolls away, spitting the blood collecting at the back of his throat as he stands. He touches his nose briefly and wipes the warm substance on his sleeves. Can’t breath through his nose anymore. The bone must be broken. Hopes the blood clot won’t be turning out too bad tomorrow.
“Bastard,” The man blinks rapidly, still holding his head. He starts spewing in a weird language.
Asorotany takes a foot forward and swings his leg in a roundhound kick, cutting him mid-chant. The man follows his foot’s arched momentum and crashed.
He steps on the man’s head. The man’s chest barely shifts but he’s definitely still alive, although it’s suffice enough to say that he won’t be a problem until the force comes. He shrugs, prodding the rapist’s forehead with the point of his shoe, then walks to the woman cowering behind the wooden cases.
She sinks in relief as he approaches, tears stain her face. “Can you stand up?” He asks gently, crouching.
Despite her nod, her legs are quivering badly, the kneecaps knocking into one another.
Her bag is still lay untouched on the ground. She didn’t make the call.
He slips his bomber jacket off and wraps it around her frail shoulders, helping her up on her feet. He turns on the flashlight, fingertips run over the woman’s arms, checking for injuries. She didn’t button her blouse yet, the view of her full, creamy breasts, barely contained in her black lacy bra. The woman turns her head away, squirming, and he mentally punches at himself, focusing on her face.
There’s a nick under her chin, like a knife tip had been pressed there. Deadlock-shaped bruises circle her wrists. Hickeys and dry saliva cover her swan-like throat.
“We need to call the police.” He says. She nods. “What’s your name?”
She hesitates. “Emi.”
“Emi, you’re safe now, okay? Is your house far from here?”
“Kokore town.”
“That’s two towns over. What are you doing here?”
She pulls the jacket tighter around herself, hunching into the wide neck as if she can disappear. A fresh wave of tears brim her eyes. The remaining eyeliners smear further down her pale-green cheeks. She shakily gulps in some air before manages to utter some words. “My boyfriend lives here. We sort of have a fall-out so he didn’t accompany me to the train station.”
The phone line clicks on. “Shinwa Police, what’s your emergency?”
“Rape case at Jingai and Katakiyaku.” Asorotany says, glancing at Emi. “We need paramedic. The victim is—”
A gruff cackle slinking from underneath him. A lazy applaud echos.
He spins around, pushing Emi behind him, dropping into a fighting stance. The hair on the back of his neck raises.
“Forever living up to my expectation. Must bow to you, Gei. Excellent disguise. What’s the role this time? Another variation of damsel in distress?”
A figure slinks out of the darkness, walking straight out of the brick wall.
A man. Black military boots, leather bike outfits mold to his tattooed toned body. A metal link clips from his jeans’ pocket to his belt. Big, silver rings with extravagant sharp thorns adorn his fingers. A cap and a black mirror glasses shield his upper face, only revealing his Roman nose, an arrogant smirk and a trimmed beard.
He jerks his chin at Asorotany. His smirk curves further, almost like a sickle. “We meet again, soon-will-die Halott.”
“Kozorog,” He grits his teeth.
Kozorog flicks gloved hands toward Emi’s direction. “Tell me you’re not amused when you can spin this guy around your finger,” Asorotany glances back. Emi’s wounded expression had replaced by a stony mask. A newfound murderous glint simmers in her eyes as she stares intensely at Kozorog. Her lips press into a thin line, shoulders draw up in a defensive manner.
Asorotany growls.
Why is he here?
What’s the deal between Emi and Kozorog?
“Hello?” The emergency responder croaks. “Sir, please hold on. I got your coordinate. Help is coming in four.”
Kozorog laughs, taking off his glasses. His voice, the notes, twist into something with fangs and claws, tearing through his hearing. “Might as well bring on a coffin, boys.” He spreads his hands, twisting his arms. His wrists strain so hard that the radius and ulna bones almost break the skin.
Asorotany sucks in a breath when he looks into Kozorog’s eyes. His pupils are large, white, as if overflowing with fog. His irises glow from the edge, the dark-coloured osmosis into a bright, blue-orange colour of flames.
“A good priest, I must say, better than the one before. Given up his daughter, his wife, his fortune. What else should I take from this sucker for disturbing my peace-out time? Pretty much useless now, huh?” Kozorog glares down the slope of his nose to the sprawling man. Then, his lips suddenly split in a crocodile grin, baring all of his small, white teeth. “Wait, no, actually, there are some parts on his body that aren’t useless. Yet.” Kozorog sneers. Fingers crooked in an awkward angle, the veins pop visible, convulsing and pulsing like a million centipedes are crawling under his skin.
A white pentagon appears on Kozorog’s chest, logograms spiral inward. Kozorog moving his hands to the front. Asorotany finds himself leaning forward, lungs compressed. Can’t breath, can’t breath at all. The pentagon acts like a black hole. The air seems to be suck into the centre of the pentagon.
Kozorog snaps his fingers. The rapist howls in agony, doubling over, grasping his private parts. The screaming pounds in Asorotany’s ears. Kozorog roars in amusement. His mouth stretches so wide that his eyes disappear. “Are you enjoying my show, Gei? I hope you do ‘cause you’re about to be a part of it, too.”
“We’ve to run.” Emi yanks Asorotany, forcefully tears his attention from Kozorog. He nods numbly, head blanking out. His senses derive.
Kozorog’s a God. Like Are.
Emi, he suspects, is also a God.
And for some reasons, he gets stuck in this sick games of the immortals.
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