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Attucks handed me a sword. “Katana,” he said. “You know how they make one of these?”
Warehouse, downtown. No furniture, just a few crates full of machineguns and sniper rifles. Hot as fuck, the fan in the corner not doing anything. Sweat dripping off me fast as I could gulp down my soda.
It was a miracle. Three days after the attack, my whole body completely healed. That… thing ate my leg, my hands, most of my nose, my chin, one breast, one thigh. Starting to sound like a bucket of extra crispy.
Somehow, Attucks fixed me. He did something, brought me back to life. Don’t understand how. Still not sure why. All I knew was that he was planning on undoing all that work. He said that today, he was going to take me apart so he could figure out what made me tick. Like I was a pocket watch.
“Katana,” he said. He pointed at it. “You with me?”
“Yeah, no,” I said. “I have no idea how they make one.”
“They take that steel and they heat it,” he said. “And they cool it down, and they fold it over and over again. On itself. And they heat it and they cool it down. Makes it hard. Makes it deadly. So protect yourself.”
I was still trying to figure out what that last part meant when he jerked forward and smashed me in the face.
I took out guys twice his size. Never saw anybody move so fast. Another hit, and another. I couldn’t feel anything yet, but in the back of my mind, I knew it was going to be a bitch of a day.
“Orikaeshi,” he said. “The folding process.”
I tried to swing the katana. He batted it aside and slammed a fist like a hammer into my jaw. Cracking sound inside my head like pine logs splitting in a fire.
“I will teach you how to be the nemesis,” he said. I tumbled forward. A knee to my chest.
Cracked ribs. Blood on the concrete. I spat. Crunchy. Three of my front teeth. Falling forward, cracking my skull. Rolled over onto my back. Attucks wiped his hands on his pants. Crossed his arms.
“I will teach you to put the fear of Jesus Christ in these motherfuckers.”
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