Ashley Fox - Ninja Orphan
Chapter 28 – The Sin of Pride
"Me? I brought a present," Escurrido tossed Cole's badge into the center of the hall. It glittered and rattled across the floor.
The detective sat in the chair next to him. His hands were tied, plus he was blindfolded and hooded by a boxing robe.
Pablo elbowed Cole in the face, knocking him from his chair. Cole landed right in front of Ashley.
Escurrido stood over the detective and pulled out the weapon at his belt. He held it awkwardly, in his left hand. His right had swollen up nicely after cracking it on the detective’s skull. Red and purple, he cradled it close to his chest as he stood and viciously kicked the plainclothes officer.
"This pig went undercover. Got himself dressed up as a killer. Got his-self put on death row. He made friends with a friend of mine.” At the end of each sentence, Pablo delivered another kick.
"Then tricky dick got released. He looked me up. Said he had a message, from an old friend of mine. Turns out he did. The message was; I'm a pig.” Escurrido kicked the Detective with each phrase, pacing himself. "We got us this here hog, for roasting, on occasion of them putting Five Hundred Thousand Volts through my pal Paco's brainpan.” He threw in a few extra kicks for emphasis.
Exhausted and pained by his damaged hand, Escurrido returned to his chair. He set the detective's gun on the vacant chair next to him.
Through the hood, Ash saw the gun lying on the seat next to her. With a tremendous burst of will, she put increasing pressure against her wrist.
Cole struggled to his hands and knees. His hands were cuffed together and centered beneath him. The detective turned his back to Pablo and kicked out with a heel, catching Escurrido in the mouth. Teeth splintered into the air, shredding Escurrido's lips. A fine mist of blood, along with several chunks of flesh and spit, followed Pablo to the floor.
Hooded and blindfolded, Cole climbed to his feet and faced Pablo Escurrido.
The killer leapt at the detective.
Cole heard him coming and stepped forward, raising his knee into Escurrido's already damaged face. He then stepped to the side and delivered a sweeping two-handed punch to Escurrido's temple.
Pablo went down, out cold.
Ashley's hand popped out of the cuff.
Under her hood, the sweat poured off her face as the pain in her hand registered in her brain. She hid her damaged hand with the other, maintaining the illusion of still being restrained. She coughed behind the tape, to try and disguise her pain.
Cole stood near the center of the room, dizzy and having trouble keeping his balance. He took a deep breath, planted his feet and tried to get his bearings.
"You're all under arrest," he said. "Give yourselves up peacefully, or I'll have to use force." He coughed.
Big Texas laughed, lifted his pistol and cocked the hammer with his thumb.
Cole heard the revolver, but with his hands tied behind his back and blindfolded, there was nothing he could do.
The Texan fired, striking the detective in the chest.
Cole flew past Ashley, crashed into the wall and collapsed.
The revolver offered no closure in the form of a brass shell tinkling across the cement floor.
In the wake of the shot everyone's ears rang.
"This ain't no role playing," Dancer whispered, mostly to herself.
The bum cracked new bottle of alcohol and drank half of it.
Morgenstern stood and looked over at Ashley. He waved at the haze lingering from the Texan's pistol shot and the smoldering cigar. "This seems like as good a time as any for the unveiling of our mystery guest.” He walked over to Ashley and pulled loose the drawstring that Dunkirk untied earlier. He opened the mouth of the hood and prepared to lift it off.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," Morgenstern announced, "here sits a convicted murder, sentenced to death by the State of California. Remanded to persons present for her execution as decreed by law.”
He grasped the two corners of the square-cut hood. "I give you Miss Ashley Erin Fox.” Morgenstern lifted the black cloth from her face and stepped back.
Her eyes were anxious and alert, her face sweaty and her expression one of fear and fury. Her mouth had been taped shut.
Ashley focused on relaxing her body. She inhaled slowly. Finding calmness, holding the jagged end of the cuff behind her back, waiting for the right moment. She needed Morgenstern to come just a little closer, just a little bit.
Dunkirk leaned forward and studied her face, confused. He leapt from his chair and stumbled forward, shocked and surprised.
"Ashley Fox? Ashley Fox! You fucking Bitch!” He lunged toward her, the machete held high overhead.
Morgenstern placed a single hand on Dunkirk's chest and completely halted his forward progress. He took the machete from the relatively short man and tossed it across the room. It slid to a stop under a row of chairs.
Dunkirk scrambled after it, interrupting and displacing the orderly rows. A moment later he returned. "I thought we were supposed to look out for each other?" He waved the blade for emphasis.
Morgenstern displayed an eerie calm. "She's not going anywhere. Sit down.”
Dunkirk sat down.
Morgenstern looked over at Ashley, who returned his glare. "What shall we do with you?”
"Let's cook her into soup," Governor Maime suggested.
"Let's roast her and cover her with chocolate," Nelson said.
Ashley exhaled slowly.
The drunken janitor-bum began to snore more loudly this time.
Ash looked over at him. Without the hood, she recognized him. She'd seen him. He was the janitor she'd seen that night after her run in with Donovan. He hadn't helped her, but he hadn't stopped her either. What was he doing here? Under his rags she saw he was wearing a reverend's collar.
Morgenstern addressed the room. "For those of you who don't know what's going on here, Miss Fox was orphaned last week. Some years ago, Ashley's family lived on the same block as Mr. Dunkirk, where she saw some things I'm sure she'd rather forget.”
Morgenstern leaned into Ash's face and stared into her eyes.
Ash was intensely calm, seeming to be on par with the killer, betraying not even the slightest bit of fear.
"Have you forgotten what you saw?" he asked. "I bet it's as clear as if it happened yesterday.”
Morgenstern turned away to address the room. "A week ago Miss Fox was delivered to District Thirteen. Three days later she was involved in an illegal pit fight, which she won. She is the most dangerous of all Angel City's fifty thousand criminal delinquents. She is our most valuable recruit. We will train her, but first we will break her.”
He turned back to the girl. "We will clone you and kill you a thousand times, the first being tonight.” He smiled. "But you’ve been through all that before. There is one thing I'm curious about, Miss Fox, before I kill you...
"The moves you used against Mohammed, Lethal and Marco. Everyone knows them; they are thousands of years old. But your style, your form, is unique, fluid. Lots of people are curious, who is your teacher?”
Ashley only glared at him.
He ripped the tape from her mouth.
She coughed and cleared her throat. "You want to know who my teacher is?" she asked.
Morgenstern nodded.
"Vid streams," she smiled.
The monster before her laughed and leaned forward, his face just inches from hers. He inhaled, preparing some witty retort.
Ashley's right hand shot up to his face. She planted the sharp point of the loose cuff deep in Morgenstern's left eye. The sharp claw punctured the lens and ripped the retina from the back of the socket.
Ash was on her feet, driving the big man backwards, twisting the cuff back and forth, purposefully inflaming the injury.
Morgenstern got his hands around her neck and squeezed. He channeled all the pain from his eye into the crushing power of his forearms and hands.
Ashley was caught; she would die now, again.
&n
bsp; Three hundred pounds of disciplined muscle, Morgenstern focused on choking her. Without a growl, a grunt or even a sharp intake of breath, the balance of power shifted from the girl and her jagged metal cuff to the giant and his pain.
She could not win.
Morgenstern exploded with effort and drove the girl down into her seat. He pressed on with everything he had.
Ashley twisted beneath him. She kicked at his stomach, stomped his chest, he held her upside down.
Twisting, her left foot found his head and neck, with three kicks she stomped his face into red jelly, but he didn't let go. His arms were long and he held on.
She tried to flip through and break his grip, but he pinned his elbows to the center and trapped her.
As her consciousness faded, she clawed at his left arm, her right hand twisting the cuff in his ruined socket.
Blood ran from his ruined face, down their arms, staining his hands, her face and her shirt.
Unable to crack the child's windpipe, her thrashing had prevented him, the lack of oxygen finally knocked her out. Ashley lost consciousness and her struggle ended, her legs dropped and her hands fell away. The cuff and the shredded eyeball came out with a wet pop and a metallic jingle.
Morgenstern let her settle into the chair and backed away from her. He reached up to his breast pocket and removed his handkerchief. He used it to hold the remains of his eye, wet against the side of his face. The optic nerve ran into the bloody socket like a miniature umbilical cord.
From a holster strapped beneath his jacket, Morgenstern produced a hunting knife. With a grunt he severed the thick nerve. Blood and plasma splashed onto the floor. He discarded the ruined tissue with a wet slap. No other sound escaped him.
He removed his tie, placed the handkerchief over the empty socket and tied it into place, an improvised eye-patch.
Slick, Dancer, Nate, Candy and Abbot sat stunned and speechless.
Governor Maime held two gleaming carving knives. She smiled madly, utterly unhinged.
Ash lay slumped in the chair. Detective Cole lay bleeding on the floor nearby, his gun abandoned, forgotten on the chair next to the throttled girl.
Escurrido remained unconscious and bleeding from his ruined face and mouth. Nelson, Courtland and the Doctor each sat quietly, watching.
Next to Dunkirk, Big Texas obscenely fondled his revolver.