“Slash wants to see you.” The woman had a feline voice.
“Tell Slash to fuck off,” Dig responded.
I tapped Dig on his shoulder again. “Why does Slash want to see you?”
“If you don’t come and see Slash,” the woman rose to her feet and spun her blade expertly around on her palm, “then we will have to bring you to Slash ourselves.”
Dig sneered. “You can fucking try.”
I tapped Dig on the shoulder a third time. “Is she speaking of Slash Artery?”
“Come on, Diggy.” The woman pretended to pout, and then grinned with delight, showing she had filed all her teeth to be sharpened into arrow heads. “He just wants to talk to you, maybe kill you a little bit. Come with us.”
I tapped Dig on the shoulder a fourth time. “Tell her we cannot go with her as we have made scheduled plans already.”
People slunk out on the street, a dozen at least, coming out from cars, and broken windows and alleyways, their eyes gleaming on Dig Graves, their hands holding weapons.
Dig pushed my back up against the wall, scouting over each person walking toward us. “You need to fuck the fuck off.”
The woman above sniggered. “It will be a lot faster if you come with us.”
Dig took out a second blade, arming both of his hands, and skated his foot back, taking a poise for attack. “But this way is fun.”
“Woah, woah!” I pulled on Dig’s shoulder and set myself at his side, waving cordially to the people lurking closer with violent intent. “I think we can settle this without carnality.”
“Princess—”
I swatted at him. “I studied political science which included navigating discussions between hostile parties. A proper resolution can be found through respectful dialogue and—”
“Who the hell is this scraggily no-pants-wearing bitch?” The woman above crossed her arms. “Get out of the way, hoe.”
I stepped back and tapped Dig on his shoulder. “You may kill them.”
The fight was on.
A dozen weapons came for Dig and he accepted them with his own two blades, fighting viciously. He moved with precision and power. Each strike and dodge of his artful and resilient. He sliced arms, stabbed chests, punched noses and tripped legs.
Across the street, a pack of drone junkies flicked on their solar speaker and started up a dance routine, blowing kisses to the drone filming above and shaking their asses to the uppity beat.
Dig killed three attackers by the time the chorus came on. He was stabbed in his arm, narrowly missing a main artery, and then his leg and somehow a small pocketknife ended up housed in his back.
I leaned up against the wall and yawned.
The attackers took no interest in me, their only attention was on Dig Graves and apprehending him for whatever reason. Overhead, the sun spilled into midday and I considered leaving and letting him have fun with his friends. Tommy was injured and perhaps needed medical attention, which I had in my satchel. It was of upmost importance I reach him. Tommy had been my biggest dream in life since a few days ago, I couldn’t give up on him now.
However, Dig Graves was now in a difficult episode and since he had assisted me out of some of my own difficult circumstances, I thought it dutiful to remain by his side until we could continue our path to Tommy.
“Dig! Dig!” I called to him.
He groaned and pulled out his knife from a man’s throat and drove it into another. “Yes—my—Princess?”
“There’s a man behind you with a machete.”
He twisted and took care of this looming issue before it became an actual problem.
“Look!” I pointed next to a bloodied set of false teeth on the ground. “There’s a butterfly! A monarch!”
“It’s—fucking—beautiful!” He slammed the knife into another assailant.
