Грань будущего

           Ithrustwiththebuttofmyaxe.Doneright,itwouldpackapunchsimilartothatofapiledriver.Withthepossibleexceptionofthefrontarmorplatingonatank,thereweren’tmanythingsthatcouldwithstandasquarehitwith370kilogramsofpiercingforce.

           Theblowglancedoff.Fuck!

           Ashadowmovedattheedgeofmyvision.Notimetogetoutoftheway.IheldinthebreathI’dtakenbeforethejabwiththeaxe.Thehitwascoming.There.Foraninstantmybodyliftedofftheground,thenIwasrolling,myvisionalternatingbetweenskyandground,skyandground.Icameoutoftherollandregainedmyfeetinasingle,fluidmotion.Myaxewasattheready.

           There,withonelegstillliftedintheair,stoodagunmetalredJacket.Rita!

           MaybeshehadknockedmeoutofthewayofanattackIhadn’tseencoming,ormaybeI’dgotteninherway.Butshehaddefinitelybeentheonewhosentmecareeningacrosstheground.

           Whatthehell…?

           TheredJacketcrouchedandcharged.Theaxebladewasagleamingrazor’sedge.Isurrenderedmybodytothebattle.Onehundredfifty-nineloopshadtrainedittomovewithease,anditdid.Thefirststrikecamefromtheside,missingmebyahair’sbreadth.Ideflectedthesecond,aviciousoverhandswing,withthehaftofmyaxe.Beforethethirdswingcouldcome,Ileaptoutofharm’swayandputsomedistancebetweenus.

           Icaughtmybreathandtherealityofthesituationsankin.

           "Whatthefuckareyoudoing?"

           Ritawalkedslowlytowardme,battleaxeswinginglow,almostbrushingtheground.