Dark City by F. Paul Wilson

Author:F. Paul Wilson
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates

3

To Jack’s relief the yawara class, although not entirely incident free, ended without Preston getting his nose punched to the back of his skull. Some pushing and shoving had gone down, though. Every time Preston got too close, the steroidal guy—whose name turned out to be Troy—would shove him away. Pres never shoved back, never offered the least resistance, just smiled and sidled closer.

Troy’s two equally pumped-up buddies kept egging him on to flatten the faggot; Jack noticed a normally quiet guy he’d seen in other classes join the pack. He wondered why Pres was being so passive. It made him look weak and defenseless, an easy mark. And Jack knew he was anything but. He’d seen him in action.

Ishii-san didn’t merely hold classes here. He gave personal instruction and members were allowed to come in whenever the dojo was open to practice on the equipment. Jack had been around for a couple of Preston’s workouts and he’d been impressed. The guy was lightning fast.

As soon as the class was over he slipped back into his kimono, grabbed his backpack, and headed for the door.

“Rehearsal calls,” he said as he hurried out the door in his clacking sandals.

Jack noticed the three gym rats and their new hanger-on following in a pack. That prompted him to tag along too.

An odd little parade heading along West 12th toward Tenth Avenue: a male geisha in the lead, followed by four guys in their twenties, followed in turn by a lone male.

Led by Troy, the four increased their speed so that they caught up to Preston as he was passing a wide, recessed delivery bay between two abandoned warehouses. They shoved him in and followed.

Jack sped up and arrived to see Pres facing the three gym rats as they blocked the dead-end recess. The hanger-on, in true hanger-on fashion, hung back.

“All right, Tinkerbell,” Troy said. “You had your fun. Now we get ours.”

Preston smiled as he dropped his backpack. His hands crossed and disappeared into the wide sleeves of his kimono.

“Girl, I bet it took you the whole class to come up with that line. No, wait. Probably the whole week.”

He removed his hands from his sleeves but only one of them was empty. He held a nunchaku with two ribbed handles of heavy-duty wood … painted pink.

The three rats and the hanger-on burst out laughing.

“Oh, shit, you gotta be kidding!” said one.

“Looky-looky,” said another. “Nunchuk Barbie!”

Even Jack couldn’t suppress a smile. Pres did look totally ridiculous: red-streaked whiteface, a kimono, and pink nunchaku. But Jack was smiling for another reason. The nunchaku meant he wouldn’t have to get involved here. He’d seen Pres work out with them.

These guys had no idea what they were asking for.

“They aren’t Barbie,” Preston said as he struck a pose. “They’re Hello Kitty, bitch.”

Jack moved up beside the hanger-on.

“You’re better off back here.”

The guy looked at him. “No fucking way, man.” He unsheathed a tanto with an eight-inch blade. “If he’s got—”

Jack grabbed his arm. “You know how the sensei feels about blades.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.