“That’s right. Look around!”

He woke up blinded by the front lights of a car. His head was bursting and soon he discovered a stingy cut on his forehead, still bleeding. He found himself lying on the cold pavement, his back propped against a cement pillar. He started looking desperately around, struggling to understand what had happened and where he was, but the blinding lights and especially the fuzziness of his eyes and mind weren’t helping.

The thundering voice came from somewhere in front. From the light. It was a woman!

“Who’s there?”

After blinking like crazy for a few seconds, he was now able to make some sense of the environment. It was an abandoned construction site, the skeleton of a giant sports hall which construction failed due to lack of funding. It was now usually frequented only by drug dealers and teenager gangs …and graffiti prodigies, apparently.

“Looks familiar, doesn’t it?” the woman’s voice thundered again. The black silhouette planted itself in front of him.

“Who are you?”

The woman was now fitting her leather gloves with slow moves that reminded of pugilists preparing for a fight.

“Your worst nightmare,” she responded casually. “You have the right to defend yourself!” continued calmly but striking.

“I don’t understand,” he mumbled while getting on his feet, as his senses smelled trouble.

This time, when she started speaking, her voice was squeaky and up to five tones higher:

“Look around! Look closely! You have such good memories here, don't cha?”

He could see her better now: a tall slim woman, covered in black from head to toe: black jacket with a hoodie that kept her eyes obscure, a black mask, the usual one that everybody is used to, leather pants, and boots. What was she? A freaking ninja?!...

“Look, Missy, I don’t know what your deal is with me...” he tried to fake a casual laugh.

“Oh, you don’t remember when you smashed that girl’s head right to that pillar behind you?”

Involuntarily, his gaze swung towards the pillar near which he woke up a few minutes ago. In the middle of it, a rap line by rapper Kazi Ploae was spread across in big graffiti writing: ‘You don't know what respect is... You only know fear...’

 He turned back around, wiping his lower lip in an attempt to act cool.

“Look, if you’re angry I didn’t ask you out or something...”

The impact was crushing! A perfectly executed high-turning kick to the side of the head propelled him back to the ground, his left ear on spontaneous combustion, his head shaking while his mind was struggling to make sense of what just happened.

“How about now? Still doesn’t ring a bell?”

There were bells ringing, all right, in both his ears. And not only that, but also a rainbow of colors in his vision, not to mention the stinging needles from his temple. The blow wasn’t strong enough to knock him out though - she needed him conscious - but it was enough to make him snap and show his true colors. The face was now contorted in fury, his eyes seemed to burst out of their sockets and an animalic roar came from the wide distorted mouth:

"You f#cking b!tch!"

He raised with wobbly legs only enough to dive towards her like a grizzly bear, his fists so determined to strike hard the target.

Outsmart the predator! Become the predator’s predator!

She slid to his side, grabbing his hand, and twisting it down, pushing at the same time his elbow to the breaking point, using his own movement to make him rotate before propelling him, with a blow in the ass, towards the same pillar he came from. The speed and force of the momentum caused his head to smash right on the 'respect’ word. Again, not too hard, she had other plans for his knockout.

He glided down gasping and spitting blood, his legs failing him unable to hold his body up. The woman was watching the theatrical spectacle of her victim like a cat would watch the mouse she released just to spice things up.

“Are you starting to remember now?”

“Yeah, I remember,” he replied with a faint voice. By this time, he gave up his pathetic effort to get back up on his feet. He only managed to turn face up and lean against the pillar, and just laid there, wiping the blood off his lower lip.

 “I remember when I slammed her to this exact pillar...” he added, confronting her with a sneer on his mug, “...and f#cked that b!tch!”

The kick to the liver was involuntary. The leg reacted on its own, like a compression spring. It was devastating, nevertheless, making him crouch over the side, contorting his body.  After a few seconds of agony, he started laughing like a madman, rolling face up and raising an insolent gaze at her, with the most perverted look:

“I can do you too, b!tch!”

She slowly placed her right boot over his face, forcing his jaw firmly to the side, rubbing off that shameless smirk of his with her concrete sole.  Then leaned over to look straight into his, now watery, eyes. Her voice was quiet, but the words were precise:

“Oh, you got balls?! We’ll see how long!”

She stood there, observing with cold unwavering stare his widening eyes and deforming face as the kick dropped right on his groins. She would’ve liked to take her time to enjoy the pleasing view, but the dreadful howling from deep in his throat was scratching her ears soo badly.  A hammer kick, a crack sound and the music stopped.

“Ups! Who’s the b!tch now, b!tch!”

She stepped back, with the most innocent girly look on her face, contemplating his situation with a sincerely worried air:

“Oh, well, with this out of the way, hopefully, you can now start using your other head,” she smirked, shrugging her shoulders, before turning around and fading like a shadow beyond the blinding lights.

                                                                          End of Scene

Author’s Thank You Note

I hope you enjoyed the story so far. Please look forward to the next episode.

Also available on Amazon e-book and paperback at https://amzn.to/3YHk507

I’ll be waiting for your feedback, comments, and theories.

https://www.instagram.com/daydream.myart/

Thank you so much for your support!