HOME | DD

Description
At the end of the day, Inlé left school in deep thought. So wrapped up in his own thoughts was he that he didn't notice the group of boys gathering around him until he bumped into the chest of a scruffy redheaded boy who glowered down at Inlé.

Inlé took a step away quickly and apologized, "Beg your pardon, I was not paying proper attention to my surroundings. If I may ..." He tried to sidestep into a clear path, but the boy in front of him sidestepped in the same direction, and the two remained one in the other's path.

Inlé sidestepped again, to the same effect, then again, and again. Quickly tired of this, Inlé created a short pattern, then, once it was set, he said aloud, "Now to the right." As both stepped to their own right, Inlé and the redhead stood with cleared paths.

Inlé continued on his way, nodding over his shoulder. "My apologies again. Goodbye."

"Not so fast, punk," the boy behind him called, grabbing Inlé's shoulder. He spun Inlé around and glared into his face. "I heard you were giving my pal Tony some trouble. We don't like punks giving our friends trouble. Do we, boys?"

The group surrounding Inlé answered in the negative.

The boy grabbed Inlé's collar, pulling him forward. "So we thought we'd teach you a lesson. You got Tony unnerved, see? I don't like little punks doing shit like that. It's fishy. Like you got some shit on him he don't want you to talk about. No way you could take him in a fight."

Hanging from your shirt-front is not the most imposing position to find yourself in. Nevertheless, Inlé appeared more bored than upset at the prospect of being manhandled in such a way. "So you wish to beat me up?" he said slowly.

"Hell yes," the jock answered.

"And," Inlé continued, "you think Tony could 'take' me?"

"Hell yes," the jock repeated.

"Then why the crowd?" Inlé asked. "If he could 'take' me, could you not?"

The jock smirked. "Hell yes I could. But I don't want you running, either. And my boys here all want a piece of you, too.

"So we figured, why not just give you a good pounding, one and all, so you won't forget to keep your mouth shut? We could all get our own turn, but all at once is faster. Lucky you." The redhead punched Inlé in the face, spinning him into the mob.

Inlé fell into the crowd, and the dam broke. Suddenly fists flew all about him, and it was all he could do to regain his feet before avoiding furious punches and kicks. He dodged quickly, avoiding every blow with a grace that belied the complexity and difficulty of the task of avoiding twenty-odd assailants.

They were all in good shape, obvious athletes with well-kept physiques, but they seemed to have little training in fighting, and swung like drunks in a bar fight. Inlé anticipated the sloppy attacks' paths and simply made sure he was not in their way when they arrived. His hands slipped casually into his pockets as he flitted about the group, unable, at least, to slip to the outskirts of the group and run off.

From behind him, a metal bat slipped out of nowhere to connect squarely with the back of Inlé's skull. Supernovas erupted behind his eyes, and the earth leapt at his face. Through a deep tunnel, Inlé heard the redhead yell angrily, "Damn it, Greg! No weapons!'

A second voice, Inlé assumed it to be this 'Greg', answered, "Fuck that."

Consciousness returned swiftly to Inlé. Not so swiftly that he could avoid the second swing of the bat, but swiftly enough to allow him to catch in in his palm.

"So," Inlé said as he stood, holding the end of the bat. "Is this how you want to 'teach me a lesson'?" His fingers sunk into the thin aluminum of the hollow bat. He glanced briefly at the nondescript blonde who held the other end of the bat, then at the rest of the mob, momentarily cooled by the display.

"I do not enjoy fighting children. The best I can do is scare you senseless quickly. Killing you is annoying because I would get into trouble. But I warn you all," He ripped the bat from the hands of the boy in front of him, and tossed it roughly away. "The next of you to attack me with a weapon will not wake tomorrow."

His hands slid back into his pockets as the infuriated group redoubled their attack.

Description
At the end of the day, Inlé left school in deep thought. So wrapped up in his own thoughts was he that he didn't notice the group of boys gathering around him until he bumped into the chest of a scruffy redheaded boy who glowered down at Inlé.

Inlé took a step away quickly and apologized, "Beg your pardon, I was not paying proper attention to my surroundings. If I may ..." He tried to sidestep into a clear path, but the boy in front of him sidestepped in the same direction, and the two remained one in the other's path.

Inlé sidestepped again, to the same effect, then again, and again. Quickly tired of this, Inlé created a short pattern, then, once it was set, he said aloud, "Now to the right." As both stepped to their own right, Inlé and the redhead stood with cleared paths.

Inlé continued on his way, nodding over his shoulder. "My apologies again. Goodbye."

"Not so fast, punk," the boy behind him called, grabbing Inlé's shoulder. He spun Inlé around and glared into his face. "I heard you were giving my pal Tony some trouble. We don't like punks giving our friends trouble. Do we, boys?"

The group surrounding Inlé answered in the negative.

The boy grabbed Inlé's collar, pulling him forward. "So we thought we'd teach you a lesson. You got Tony unnerved, see? I don't like little punks doing shit like that. It's fishy. Like you got some shit on him he don't want you to talk about. No way you could take him in a fight."

Hanging from your shirt-front is not the most imposing position to find yourself in. Nevertheless, Inlé appeared more bored than upset at the prospect of being manhandled in such a way. "So you wish to beat me up?" he said slowly.

"Hell yes," the jock answered.

"And," Inlé continued, "you think Tony could 'take' me?"

"Hell yes," the jock repeated.

"Then why the crowd?" Inlé asked. "If he could 'take' me, could you not?"

The jock smirked. "Hell yes I could. But I don't want you running, either. And my boys here all want a piece of you, too.

"So we figured, why not just give you a good pounding, one and all, so you won't forget to keep your mouth shut? We could all get our own turn, but all at once is faster. Lucky you." The redhead punched Inlé in the face, spinning him into the mob.

Inlé fell into the crowd, and the dam broke. Suddenly fists flew all about him, and it was all he could do to regain his feet before avoiding furious punches and kicks. He dodged quickly, avoiding every blow with a grace that belied the complexity and difficulty of the task of avoiding twenty-odd assailants.

They were all in good shape, obvious athletes with well-kept physiques, but they seemed to have little training in fighting, and swung like drunks in a bar fight. Inlé anticipated the sloppy attacks' paths and simply made sure he was not in their way when they arrived. His hands slipped casually into his pockets as he flitted about the group, unable, at least, to slip to the outskirts of the group and run off.

From behind him, a metal bat slipped out of nowhere to connect squarely with the back of Inlé's skull. Supernovas erupted behind his eyes, and the earth leapt at his face. Through a deep tunnel, Inlé heard the redhead yell angrily, "Damn it, Greg! No weapons!'

A second voice, Inlé assumed it to be this 'Greg', answered, "Fuck that."

Consciousness returned swiftly to Inlé. Not so swiftly that he could avoid the second swing of the bat, but swiftly enough to allow him to catch in in his palm.

"So," Inlé said as he stood, holding the end of the bat. "Is this how you want to 'teach me a lesson'?" His fingers sunk into the thin aluminum of the hollow bat. He glanced briefly at the nondescript blonde who held the other end of the bat, then at the rest of the mob, momentarily cooled by the display.

"I do not enjoy fighting children. The best I can do is scare you senseless quickly. Killing you is annoying because I would get into trouble. But I warn you all," He ripped the bat from the hands of the boy in front of him, and tossed it roughly away. "The next of you to attack me with a weapon will not wake tomorrow."

His hands slid back into his pockets as the infuriated group redoubled their attack.